Shiny boots and no good reason to feel cocky

Little bit of excitement on the train this morning. I stepped into the car to find not one but three BART police standing in the doorway with their big black boots and official somethingerothers strapped round their waists. I don't know if they pack heat, but they're got suspicious bulges on those belts. Little cans of mace, perhaps? They might have simply been commuting to work--surely one of the (only) perks of being in the BART police force would be free travel--or they might have been on their way to kick some sad homeless loiterer's butt. In either case, their presence made me feel decidedly less safe.