Joan transferred lines at MacArthur station. It was annoying that she had to wait fifteen minutes on the platform for the next train, but it was still cheaper than driving. Her friends would make the trip from Walnut Creek to UC Berkeley every day, and she had no envy for them. 

When the train finally did show up she noticed the thing was packed to popping with people from San Francisco. She moved on down the platform while the train slowed. Looking for a less packed car in the back before stepping in and managing, with great luck, to find a seat. She got comfortable as the train continued on towards Orinda. She had boarded the third car from the back, and even still it was well populated with a number of varied characters. Still, she had a seat at least. However, when the train came to a halt in Orinda, a ragged looking man wearing five large, torn, coats stepped into her car on the opposite end from where she sat. The doors shut behind him and the train continued onwards. 

“I heard it in the first book of Revelations! Satan will come for you all!” He started screaming while shuffling about. His hair was long and matted to his head. About three teeth remained in his mouth and, even from where she sat easily twenty feet away, he smelled rancid. 

Despite being normally quite charitable, his aggressive yelling and arm flailing wormed a little bug of unease into her mind. There was no rush really. If Joan just stood still and waited, the train would reach her stop soon. With an optimistic expression she could just block out the sound of the rambling madman with her earbuds. With this in mind she pulled the little blue case out of her pocket and took both out. 

Silence. Batteries were out, she had no choice then. If she was unable to pretend ignorance then it was time for her last resort. So, grabbing her backpack, she stood and proceeded to the next train car. 

The next car was packed like a can of sardines. Figuring her stop was coming up soon, she started towards the doors. It was all she could do to squeeze through to the group huddled around the exit. She stood before it, facing out the windows as the scenery of Lafayette rushed past. Shoved to her right was a surly looking businessman about five sizes too large for his suit, and to her left was a hipster type. He wore a green short-sleeve plaid shirt and torn jeans after that tacky punk style that had gone out of vogue ten years prior. His hair was shaved on the sides but the top was long enough that it was tied into a bun in the back, drawing on stereotypes that  made her giggle. As Joan observed him in periphery, she noticed a tattoo on his arm. 

“I like the tattoo.” She complimented. He looked up from his phone and smiled. 

“Thank you, it means Benevolence.” 

She observed the Japanese characters directly, her mother language.

“I see, how do you read it?” The script had certainly not been translated the way he had said, but she gave him some slack. Maybe it was some kind of high level pun or something, she was not usually one for humor like that. 

“These three characters,” he pointed at the left half of the word, “mean something close to fortune, and the second half means charity. So the overall meaning is Benevolence.”

“I think you have it mixed up.” Joan chuckled. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, legitimately confused. 

“It says akanbe, that doesn’t mean benevolence.” His brow furled at the challenge. 

“I think I know what I got on my arm lady.” 

He spoke with a genuine firmness that disgusted her. As if he knew better. Another peculiar stereotype of his character that she had never expected to actually encounter in the Bay Area, let alone at all. Simply enough, she was surprised he was so arrogant. 

The train started braking as Walnut Creek flew by on the other side of the glass. After a few moments of bracing herself with the overhead bar the train slowed to a complete stop at the platform. The sardines did not wait for her as they funneled out, pushing her around on the current of bodies. When she finally regained her composure she turned to see the man with the tattoo frowning and quite angry. Feeling spiteful of being made fun of by her friends for taking the train, being pushed around by bums, sardines, and hipsters, she got a bright idea. 

“Sayonara, Akanbe-san!” She pulled one eyelid open with her index finger and stuck her tongue out as the doors closed on his stupid face.