CA: BART packed a bunch of single people into a train on Valentine's Day. Did they find love connections?

Single adults swarmed a San Francisco-bound BART train as dusk fell on Valentine's Day, some clad in platform boots and lacy Goth dresses, others in jeans and rail-themed ugly holiday sweaters.

Many were looking for love, though some just wanted friendship or a spiritual connection with a fellow transit nerd.

That's what lured 21-year-old Icarus Kranzke to BART's "Valentraine" speed-dating event, aboard a train set to depart from the Downtown Berkeley Station at 7:10 p.m. Friday. It would roll to 24th Street and Mission and loop back with no stops, packed with hundreds of giddy romance-seekers.

People dating on a budget couldn't beat the cost: free except for BART fare from downtown Berkeley to your final destination.

"I'm going through a divorce, so I'm just here to make friends and see what happens," said Kranzke, who wore bright scarlet lipstick and carried a plastic purse with a picture of a strawberry.

By 6:45, dozens of young adults jammed the Berkeley station platform, giving it the feel of a nightclub or an awkward school dance. Twenty-five-year-old Walter Illman, a structural engineer from West Oakland, stood with his arms folded protectively across his chest. He said he wasn't nervous.

"Maybe I'll meet someone new; I really don't know," said Illman, who described himself as a transit advocate and "fan of the BART system."

Pitched at young adults ages 18 to 25, the Valentraine mixer generated breathless enthusiasm from the moment the agency publicized it this month. A young rider, Erica Mitchell of Oakland, had come up with the idea and BART's marketing team ran with it. For an agency confronting a death spiral, speed-dating amounted to clever publicity.

Although BART has tried putting on social events before — including a book club and a fashion show with garments made from paper BART tickets — speed-dating appeared to be a much more ambitious marketing venture, requiring multiple staff, police, a train to be taken out of service and a high level of organization.

Within 12 hours of soliciting RSVPs, BART had 200 people clamoring to come — and officials had to cap attendance, spokesperson Alicia Trost said. As of Friday afternoon, her Inbox remained flooded with messages from people wanting to participate.

Mitchell, whose dad worked for BART, arrived to Valentraine in a festive pink bodice and helped check participants in. Years ago she met a significant other on BART, when they both got on at the same stop, heading to Laney College.

"More people need that experience," she said.

As the train rolled out shortly after 7, attendees got their instructions. BART staff separated them by age in different train cars, where everyone sat down and initiated a whip-speed conversation with the person next to them. Every three minutes, the person in the aisle seat rotated, while the person by the window stayed put.

To kick-start the game, BART staff passed out pink cards with suggested ice-breakers. Among them: "If someone gave you $50 and you had to spend it right now, what would you buy?" And: "If you could choose one celebrity to be your personal life coach, who would it be, and why?"

A brightly-lit train clattering through the Transbay Tube is not exactly ideal for first-date ambience. And BART, with all its predicaments, is not an institution that people look to for romance. Yet several attendees said they were captivated by the idea of a chance encounter on a train, not mediated by an algorithm.

"I feel like it would be hard to talk when you're just on BART regularly, but here we have this conversation prompt," said Taylor Kwong, 28, of Oakland.

Ron Busby of Oakland said he believed people flocked to the Valentraine in search of "an authentic experience that doesn't involve a screen" — where the only way to swipe right is to deftly slip into the next car. He said love of public transportation motivated him to participate Friday. His grandfather helped build the Transbay Tube.

The event began winding down at 8 p.m., by which point Jose Gomez-Perez of Berkeley believed he had spoken to seven people — a series of frenetic chats punctuated by embarrassed laughter. Conversations rose to increasingly loud volumes as people tried to drown out the whoosh and rumble of the train.

"This is historic," Gomez-Perez said, plopping down in a seat with an exhausted sigh. "For those of us who are passionate about public transit, who are tapped into BART's Instagram page, it was definitely a success."

"But I didn't find my spouse," he added, checking his watch as the train wheezed out of 24th and Mission. "And we're already heading back."

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