metro monday: the end of an era edition

i had faith, going into this morning's commute, that the orange line would give me something/one spectacular this morning, an appropriate send-off on the last metro monday in her overcrowded cars. i wasn't sure if i'd be graced with an outrageously dressed commuter (maybe the gentleman i saw at clyde's in chinatown this weekend lost a bet and had to show up to work wearing the cape and cod piece?) or if i'd get a repeat of last week's off-loading and horrendously crowded platform.

but really, nothing spectacular happened at all. a few people sitting on the left, yada yada. b and i got to sit next to each other, which is pretty remarkable. there wasn't even a comb-over. i saw no white purses. there was no one pushing over a pregnant lady in a rush to score a seat. i did see a guy wearing a red sox cap with his suit, but much like this year's world series, it was incredibly anti-climatic.

i've got nothing people. nothing but a little sadness that i'm leaving an apartment and a neighborhood i love ... and a little hope that my new above-ground commute will provide fresh material.

so this is it, orange line. it's been real.

metro monday: the sleepy-head edition

only one of the three sleeping men this morning on the train was particularly interesting - the other two just looked like really weary travelers that had taken red eyes into dulles. this third fellow, though, he was quality. there was the snoring, which was great, and the sighs one expects to hear from a 2-year-old who has just started to fall asleep after an afternoon of hard play. there was the smacking of the lips as he started to come around - like i do when i wake up after having eaten an especially garlicky meal the night before, and the taste in my mouth the next morning is shocking.

for some reason the sound of the doors opening at courthouse shook him from his sleep, and he grabbed his duffle bag and bolted for the door. and i obviously took his seat, because that's how i roll. i guess courthouse wasn't his stop though, because he turned around, saw me in his seat, and sighed. i could see it in b's eyes: you took the sleeper's seat! but what was i supposed to do - ask him if he'd like it back to continue his nap? sorry charlie.

i admired his drive though. sleeper didn't need the seat. he nodded off again between rosslyn and foggy bottom, his head bobbing, brushing slightly against the shoulder of the taller man next to him. awkward.

i was tempted not to talk about this guy, despite the fact that the image of someone falling asleep standing up on the train (in a corduroy hawaiian shirt. did i not mention this? it was quality) is funny, right? but then, after we both detrained at foggy bottom, i saw him walk across the platform and get on a blue line train in the opposite direction. i'm not sure if he was riding the train to sleep (in which case i'm a total bitch) or if he just missed his transfer at rosslyn.

'm telling myself it was the latter.

metro monday: the It's September For God's Sake edition

i'm not going to lie. though i giggled a little when the woman got on the train this morning with the winter coat, i was not surprised. i've been here through enough falls to know that people overreact. only one winter coat on the first really-feels-like-fall morning is expected. overall, my fellow commuters, you were dressed very appropriately. it seems i'm not the only one who has been jonesing to pull cute blazers out from the back of my closet. i saw no fewer than 6 blazers that i nearly broke the commuter code of silence for, to inquire as to their stores of origin.

but my friends, what the hell is it with the white purses. still? really?! please stop.

the past two weeks, i have seen many of you wandering around with your white pants and white sandals (which, frankly, i don't think is really ever a good idea) and linen and white purses ... but it's been hot. so maybe, i kept thinking as i bit my tongue and refrained from glaring, you've all just forgotten that labor day has passed. maybe the heat got to your brains or something. but today, the grace period ends. today is a crisp fall day. you are wearing blazers and closed toe heels. i saw velvet and i saw corduroy.

and i saw them mixed with white purses.

this is not ok.

i implore of you, good citizens, to obey this - the simplest of all fashion rules. Do Not Wear White After Labor Day. and purses count.

metro monday: the back to school edition

i was going to spend my first post-sabbatical metro monday on the following two words and how they should be banned from the english language:

fanny pack.

and really, who can't write a little something funny about the fanny pack?

but since this is the back to school edition, i'm instead going to focus on the following two words, inspired by one of my professors:

man boobs.

and more specifically, man boobs highlighted by a thin t-shirt under which no t-shirt is worn, and through which hard nipples are displayed.

people, a lot of what i do on my little corner of the Internets is to make fun of people. a whole lot. but this is more of a public service announcement, really.

gentlemen. listen up. if you have man boobs, give your wardrobe a little thought. if a thin cotton t-shirt is the first thing you grab out of the closet, take a pause. you need to consider just placing a white t-shirt under that thin cotton t-shirt. and what's more - if you have a tendency to maintain freakishly hard nipples for a man (or mammal), perhaps two t-shirts won't be enough.

and further still, if you're a law professor, a single thin cotton t-shirt is not acceptable on the first - or any - day of class.

because of this, i'm actually going to make fun of this professor.

MY PROFESSORS BIG MAN BOOBS AND FREAKISHLY HARD NIPPLES HAVE BEEN DISTRACTING ME FROM THE BACK ROW FOR EXACTLY ONE HOUR AND FORTY THREE MINUTES! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! MAN BOOBS!

metro monday: better late than never OR fake lawyer and ventriloquism

did i even ride the train this morning? is it still monday? i have this vague recollection of being in the shower contemplating the fucked up dreams i had last night (including one where i was clinging to a giant stone column in the middle of the ocean, huge waves crashing on me but somehow still hanging on, for example. also my dad was there talking to me. i think he was in a raft. and i think he may have thought i was my nephew. wtf?), freaking out over my collar not lying quite right under my suit, then i was sitting in the park across from my (gulp) office waiting to go in so i wouldn't be too early, and then i was on my 4th cup of coffee, talking about cabbies in dc v. ny and the importance of not putting off your billing.

and then i sat in my office staring at my desk for 20 minutes. i really wanted to stare out the window ... my window ... but that just would have been weird.

but b, he had a perfect metro monday ... one way more interesting than reading my scattered reminiscing about the weirdness of my first day as a fake lawyer. but as i'm a bit exhausted and b isn't much into the blogging, i'll just relay his telling of it.

b: so i got on the train this morning, and there was this woman just standing in the doorway with a wheelchair.
s: you mean, sitting in a wheel chair.
b: no. standing.
s: was there anyone in the chair?
b: no.
s: so she's?
b: standing behind an empty wheelchair.
s: ah.
b: right, so first of all, if i had an empty wheelchair on the metro during rush hour, i'd at least take a seat.
s: you mean, move it out of the way or ..
b: no, i mean in the wheelchair. i mean, jesus, it's an empty seat, right?
s: [smiling as i picture b, suitclad, sitting in an empty wheelchair, legs casually crossed, reading the metro express, in a crammed rush hour train.]
b: i almost asked her, is anyone sitting there? i mean, we were crammed in there like sardines. i could've used the seat.
s: that would have been something, dude. seriously.
b: but that's not the weird part. then she started doing ventriloquism.
s: ventriloquism? did she have a puppet?
b: no.
s: oh.
b: it was fucked up. she was definitely crazy, and i felt kinda sorry for her. but it was hilarious.
s: ventriloquism?
b: yeah. all i could think was, dude i wish s were here.
s: and that you wanted to sit in the wheelchair.
b: and that.

metro monday: the mystery of the ghost train

i'm a showoff. you see, b doesn't have very good vision, but refuses to go to an eye doctor and get glasses. i, however, have great vision. and whenever possible, i like to read something really far away to remind him that he can't bloody see and for the love of god will he please get some glasses.

for example, the metro signs. i like to tell him how long we have to wait for a car of what length as soon as it is in sight in the morning - knowing full well that he won't be able to read it until we're less than twenty feet from the sign. it's my little passive aggressive wife thing, and i'm sure he doesn't notice and it's getting me no closer to having a wildly hot husband who also wears glasses. (i like glasses.) nonetheless.

this morning was no different. as we scooted past the lost retired tourists and the sign came into the sight just before we stepped on the escalator, i chirped, ooh! an eight car train! in three minutes! perfect!

we hustled down to the front of the platform, b pointed out the schmoe wearing a black shirt and brown shoes. you could blog about that guy! what the hell is he wearing? (god i love this man.) a train came and went in the other direction, and suddenly b said, hey, i thought you said the train was in three minutes. i looked over to the sign and imagine my surprise. it said our train was boarding. curious, seeing as how there was no train and all. so the invisible train came and went, the platform quickly filling, and we waited for the next train. that train also arrived, boarded and left (according to the sign) with no actual train. the only logical explanation was that, of course, somehow time and space had intersected, and the metro was invisible, full of ghosts. a ghost train. obviously.

but the third time was a charm. as we got on the train, i couldn't help but wonder if we'd be transported to the great beyond instead of foggy bottom. and things seemed normal, until i made a face at bob about the big old man behind me who kept bumping into me with his gut. then, after he looked at the fellow, his eyes got really big. he leaned in as close as possible and whispered in my ear, oh my god! it's hemingway! and i couldn't get a good look - all i could see was the book in his huge hands. what's he reading? i mouthed to b. i can't tell, he mouthed back, and then grinned. but i've always wondered.

ok, maybe it wasn't hemingway. maybe. but, i don't know. maybe he missed the ghost trains and hopped on ours instead.

metro monday: i wear my sunglasses at night

monday feels good for the first time in a while, my friends. i'm done with exams, my parents just left after a long-overdue visit, one filled with only a minimum amount of irritation. (it's a little like background radiation with me and my dad - i'll always have to deal with some small amount of annoyance.)

but not everyone was feeling so great this morning. dude sitting next to the window was being all corey hart, wearing his sunglasses ... well, not at night, but in the dark. and at first it was just funny. i thought he was trying to be slick at 8:40 on a monday morning. and he was just a standard dc Suit - it's not like he was wearing a leather motorcycle jacket or torn levis.

turns out it wasn't about looking slick, because just before i exited, as the train pulled into foggy bottom, i glanced over at him again and saw him keeled over, head between his knees, slighly groaning. i whispered to b as i slid past him, you might want to move to another part of the train. i think that guy's gonna blow.

i love it when i can leave b laughing in the morning.

metro monday

there was a 75-year-old cross dresser on the train this morning.

i am so. serious.

evidence:
shoulders like a line backer.
super defined chin.
ear hair.
man hands.
way too much eye make-up for a regular 75-year-old woman.

counter-evidence:
wedding ring that actually seemed appropriate for a 75-year-old woman.

i was sitting behind ... er ... her, so that's basically all i could see when i walked onto the train (and kinda stopped dead in my tracks when i noticed her) and from my seat a couple rows back. and from her reflection in the window.

if i'm wrong, then i've just really insulted someone's grandmother, and am definitely going to hell.

metro monday: and it's not good for your posture, either

i had actually been wondering a few weeks ago if i'd run through all the possible bad behaviors on the metro. what a fool i was. the possible opportunities for rudeness are, i think we can all agree, endless.

a train was pulling in as i sulked down the escalator (it is monday, after all) ... and i'd usually just wait for the next train, but it didn't seem too full (perhaps because of this?) so i decided to jump on. i made my way to a spot next to the floor-to-ceiling bar, sat my bag on the ground, and went to reach for the bar when it happened. the college girl next to me leaned her whole body against the bar.

oooooh, i hate the leaners.

she was leaning from thigh to head, sideways, with even her frizzy, crazy, curly hair wrapping around the bar. and the thing is, i'm not a tall girl. in fact, i can't tell someone i'm 5'3" (but i AM!) without b snorting a little. i can't reach the overhead bar, and reaching the bar above this girl's head was, at best, uncomfortable. usually, when i get a leaner, i wait for them to shift and move momentarily away from the bar so i can stick my hand in where the middle of their back hits the bar, but she was vigilant. not even the jerkiness of the conductor's stops could peel her away from that bar.

is it really not obvious that leaning your whole body against the bar during rush hour is rude? really? huh.

ok then, here it is:

there are other people that would like to steady themselves with the help of that handy-dandy bar. it's actually not there for you to lean your whole body up against so you can look suave and relaxed while you read your metro express. turns out, it's there so that a group of people can each put one of their hands on it. at the same time. and avoid falling onto one another when the conductor slams on the breaks. so let's share, hm?

(wow, this common sense thing is a lot trickier than i thought, isn't it?)

metro monday: speaking of martinis ...

dear non-descript woman on the train,

a few tips from a friend:

i can tell you dye your hair with clairol nice-n-easy. and i'm cool with that. i've been known to bust open a bottle of clairol in the day. and my mom lives on that stuff. i don't judge, really. but please pick a color that is not the precise color of your skin-tone. unless you are trying to look washed-out and ten years older than you really are. i'm just saying.

also, i would ditch the backpack that you bought from some wandering vendor on your cruise to jamaica. you may have thought it was cute and made you look "local" while you were spending your days shopping at port (ps it didn't), but it's really not something i'd ever take out of the closet again. not even for your next cruise.

but most importantly, let's talk about your feet. let's tackle the small problem first. literally. your shoes. are they your daughters? i don't ask because they were trendy and too young for you, no no, but because they were 2 sizes too small. your feet were hanging an inch off the back. not comfortable, i'm sure. and just not ok. they weren't hideous in and of themselves, i guess. i suppose i can get behind a light blue suede slide loafer i guess (although, definitely NOT with that awful souvenir backpack) ... but let's just think for a second. do you really want to wear those too-small shoes with bright blue socks? really? and not just any ol' bright blue socks, but bright blue with martini glasses on them. this really does bring us to a whole different level of analysis here.

my friend, i've enjoyed enough martinis in my short life to know a thing or two about them, though i've not quite reached the expert status i hope to acheive. (we all have goals, people.) what i do know, however, is that the experience isn't appropriately memorialized with bright blue, martini-glass embossed socks. i've honestly never seen anyone drinking a martini while wearing socks like that. promise. so if you're trying to communicate to the other commuters your sophistication vis-a-vis enjoyment of a nice martini, it didn't work.

but it did make me jones for a bellini at 8:45 am. or at least regret that i didn't splash some bailey's in my thermos of coffee. (which i would so never do.) so if that's what you were going for, kudos.

metro monday

i'll tell you what i wasn't expecting this morning - to see a grown man wearing a baseball jersey and cap on over his dress clothes during my morning commute.

listen, i know it's opening day. i know because b was whistling take me out to the ballgame all morning. i know because he's been telling me everyday for the past month how many days were left before opening day. i know because when we left detroit last night, i could tell he was thinking about ditching me and the plane, hitching a ride downtown and standing outside a sold-out comerica park all night hoping for a glance.

i know it's opening day.

but i also know this is not michigan (where wearing a jersey to work probably would be ok). nor did i know it was acceptable in dc for a grown man to wear a jersey and a baseball cap to work over his dress shirt and tie. and if i did know those things, i would not have guessed it would have been a cubs jersey. dc? ok. marlins (who they play today)? also understandable. but a cubs jersey? and one with his own last name on the back? a little surprising.

metro monday: ew.

these are the two winners i was jammed between this morning: sniffles mcfrumpy and man-who-sighs-heavily-into-my-hair.

let's start with sniffles.

i knew this woman was trouble when she walked up to me on the platform. a train had just passe, so there really weren't too many people waiting. but, despite all societal norms that suggest she stand a reasonable distance from me so as to not intrude into my personal space, she stood right next to me. our arms touching close to me. my guess is that she has a spot she stands so she's right in front of the door when the train stops, and i'm in that spot. so she's standing right effing next to me, all frumply and sniffly, and when the train pulls in, she gently shoves me to get closer to the door. oh, not today lady. i didn't shove back, but i didn't move. ok, i may have shoved back a little, but she started it!

so i got on the train first (sucka) and she stood next to me. she's one of those people that isn't that large, but insists on taking a lot of space. she's got one hand on this bar, she's leaning up against this one over here, and her elbows are splayed as she reads her trashy novel. her hair is sopping wet. i don't even think she took a towel to that mess. she is a mess. everytime the train stopped, she would mop up where her hair had dripped on her face, wipe her nose, scratch her eyes, wipe the edges of her mouth, and then put that wet, germy hand back up on the bar when the train started. what's more, every three seconds she'd sniffle. i was literally thinking, one one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, sniffle. and sure enough.

my inner germ-a-phob begins to freak out.

so that's on my right.

on my left, we have man-who-sighs-heavily-into-my-hair. sighs, as in, multiple sighs. i know, sir, that my suave conditioner is intoxicating. i'm aware. but please. try to control yourself.

turns out this was the least of my concerns, because he had a huge sneezing fit and pulled out a well-used, too small kleenex into which he blew his nose like his life depended on it.

i admit it, i was thrilled to find the bottle of purell at the bottom of my bag as i dug for my smartcard.

metro monday: metro - a promising second career for those with anger management issues?

originally, i was going to blog about the ginormous blue suitcase that was hanging out on the train sans owner right in front of the door ... about how no one seemed to mind ... about how big an explosive device could be in there ... about how i thought about moving to another car of the train for about a nanosecond before immediately deciding there was no way i was giving up my seat.

but then, i heard it. i heard this sing-songy voice over the PA announcing the next stop in a strange cadence that could have very easily transitioned into i do not like green eggs and ham, i do not like them sam i am without skipping a beat. i turned to b and asked, don't you think this guy's voice is really strange? and he said, guy? you think this is a guy?

that was at courthouse. so obviously we spent the next ten minutes before i got off the train eagerly waiting for another sample of this confusing voice. we'd quietly discuss our opinion and then stop mid-sentence as soon as we thought s/he would start talking again. there was no real consensus by the time we reached foggy bottom.

as luck would have it, we were near the front at the train .... so when i got off the train, i was hoping to catch a glimpse of him/her as s/he looked back before closing the train doors.

and i can't be sure, it was dark down there. but i'm pretty sure it was mike tyson. which kinda makes sense.

metro monday: this crappy morning brought to you by congress

sure, sure. spring forward would have happened eventually. but in march? and to save energy? b and i were up until midnight last night, with the lights and tv on, and both of our laptops in bed with us. i struggle to see how much energy was saved there.

spring-forward-itis definitely had a palpable presence on the train this morning. the three commuters closest to me that had window seats were all sleeping. one in front of the other, their heads leaning against the window, i couldn't help but wish i had those little airplane pillows and blankets to tuck them in. the woman sitting next to the middle sleeper/commuter was mid-yawn when the snoring began. laughing and yawning is really unattractive, fyi.

and i loved seeing the put-together, well-dressed commuters showing no shame in letting huge yawns escape. i half expected to see some thumb-sucking and eye-rubbing.

we were all so sleepy that when the driver chastized people for crowding the train and promised there was another train ... uh ... in a few minutes (even though we all knew the next train was 14 minutes behind) there was barely a guffaw. what the hell did we care? we all got on the train.

anyway, it's much easier to nap standing up when the other comumuters are jammed in around you.

metro monday xiii: please don't dress like kim jong-il

all the oscar fashion talk had me paying extra attention to the commuter ensembles this morning. and while there many worth noting, since i got sideswiped the second i walked into the office, i can't remember all the witty descriptions i had lined up.

i do remember, however, that none of the men on the train had appropriately tailored pants.*

gentlemen of the orange line: many of you insist on wearing your trousers like kim jong-il. he is a dictator, and no one is going to tell him his pants need to come up an inch or two.

but that doesn't make it right.

one of you was even standing on the bottom of your pants, they were so long. you really thought this was ok? really?

please, fellas, this is not a good look. especially given that many of you are not terribly tall anyway, and nothing adds to frumpiness (aside from big ol' pleats) like poorly tailored, too-long pants.

i'll make you two promises, orange line gentlemen:
1. having your pants taken up is not expensive, and
2. any tailor you see will have diagrams of the appropriate trouser breaks for your reference.

let's put an end to poorly tailored pants, shall we? i know if we work together, it can be done. let's leave the next generation with a better world, one where men know when to see the tailor.


*b of course the obvious exception. his pants break just right on the top of his shoes.

metro monday xii: the devil wears houndstooth

here i am again, lamenting the rudeness of metro riders. it's about a want for chivalry, sure - but frankly, i'd just settle for some decent manners at this point.

metro monday almost didn't come to pass this morning. it wasn't until we were pulling into courthouse that b grabbed my arm and said, eyes wide, metro monday, s! don't forget! we then instantly looked around to see if there was anyone wearing a leopard print coat and a cowboy hat (i saw her on thursday, and it was special).

an unusually high number of riders exited at courthouse, and a bespectacled gentleman with a houndstooth cap and wide courderoy pants pounced. no, literally. one of the seats reserved for handicapped riders was vacated, and he actually pushed the women, young and old, around him out of the way so he could sit down.

our jaws dropped and through the clear plastic divider we couldn't help but stare. he looked up as we started to laugh and gave us one of those what? looks. but i could see in his eyes he knew he'd just acted totally inappropriately.

ah, metro monday. you never let me down.

metro monday xi: you can take the girl out of michigan ...

i usually walk around dc rolling my eyes and guffawing at the general attitude towards temperatures below 40 degrees and the threat of snow in a 200-mile radius.

you think this is cold?

let me tell you a thing or two about snow ...

my school never would have closed for this.

but i'll admit it. this morning was cold. i'll give you that. but that's fine, i just pulled out a lined coat, a big scarf, some knee socks, a big warm hat and some gloves ... and that's that. after bundling up and getting an assurance from B that my hat wasn't ridiculous, i headed out, wondering what kind of get-ups would be waiting on the metro.

i guess i wasn't expecting all the fur. i was expecting fresh new parkas, bought in a frenzy yesterday after everyone read in the paper it would only reach 23 today. and those silly earwarmers that just slide onto your ears. but i really had not anticipated the fur. there were five fur coats on my car alone.

and i realized that don't know what my stance is on fur. my initial reaction was disapproval. strong disapproval. i thought of cute little beavers splashing around near their dams or cute little minks ... doing whatever it is minks do. these woman should be ashamed of themselves. but the problem is, they looked good. real good. i mean, what would i do if B decided to buy me a fur coat for christmas one year? would i make him take it back? or would i put it on and reluctantly admit that i looked like one classy broad?

it was at this point in my inner dialogue that i happened to glance at my reflection in the metro window, and two things occurred to me:

1. i have a long way to go before i need to worry about the moral dilemmas associated with receiving a fur coat for a gift; and

2. B totally lied to me when he said this hat does not look ridiculous.

metro monday x: what the hell is wrong with this city?

do you people have no manners? when a 7 or 8 month pregnant woman gets on the train, could someone please tell me why no one thinks it's a good idea to give up their seat for her? really. should she have to ask for a seat? can't you people see that she has a 6 pound fetus in her?

am i terribly surprised? i suppose not. a year or so ago, i slipped on a metro escalator during rush hour at crystal city, toppled down with my laptop and three law books, and not one goddamned person offered to help me. not one. i carry a scar on my shin that looks like a tattoo of an escalator as a reminder of how cold you people are.

episodes like this make me long for the midwest - where people will help you in a store where they don't even work, make actual eye contact with and smile at people they walk past, and make friendly inquiries to pregnant women about when they're due and whether it's a boy or a girl instead of pretending she's not there and assuring themselves that it's someone else's job to offer her a seat on the train.

metro monday ix: thanks for hiring my grandma

maybe i'm a little self-centered, but some days i suspect metro is purposely trying to piss. me. off.

e.g., today.

during rush hour, b and i waited almost ten minutes for a train. unacceptable. all i could think about was how stuffed and hot and smelly the train would be because all the people along the orange line before us who also waited almost ten minutes have stuffed themselves on. uber annoying. but i actually don't think it was poor planning by metro this morning that caused the wait ... unless poor hiring practices or train driver training count as poor planning. the train driver may have actually been my grandmother. and if so, grandma i'm really sorry for all the mean things i called you in my head.

first of all, the train honked when it pulled into the station. i fucking hate this. why. it's not like we're all hanging out on the tracks or something. don't honk. please.** then, it proceeded into the station so slowly that people were actually walking next to it and keeping up.*** it was really obnoxious. of course, this happened at every station. honking, crawling past the people who've all been waiting almost ten minutes for the train. during rush hour.

and i've never actually (knock on wood) had the joy of being on a train that was off-loaded because one of the doors wouldn't close, but i imagine it goes a little something like this:

1. driver tries to close doors like normal. 2. driver tries again. 3. driver tries again. 4. driver says please stand clear of the doors. 5. driver tries again. 6. maybe again. 7. driver says please stand clear of the doors or we'll have to offload this train. 8. driver tries a couple more times, then kicks everyone off.

the driver today? 1. tried to close doors like normal. 2. says please stand clear of the doors or this train will be off-loaded because of mechanical malfunction. 3. driver tries again and doors shut without a problem. jumping the gun a little perhaps? i mean, we were already about to mutiny because it was taking two minutes to get from one end of a station to the other. maybe threatening to kick us off because someone's messenger bag was stuck in the door without trying again to shut the doors was a little much.

... one more thing. on the escalator at foggy bottom, i saw a 30 something guy wearing a suit, carrying a kenneth cole messenger bag, and wearing a hat like this. speaking of things that are not ok...


*why is it so hard for metro to coordinate trains during rush hour so they are a reasonable amount of time apart? really. if you know, please tell me.

**this goes especially for "no passenger" trains. it's like you're taunting us. hey look at this! a train! going in your direction! but guess what, asshole, you can't get on.

*** i am only slightly exaggerating.

metro monday viii: like a ton of bricks

welcome back, all. metro monday is back in business, and you know what that means - i'm not sitting on a chaise listening to the waves of the light blue waters and wondering when that beach boy is going to show up with my beer. son of a bitch.

i was hoping for a gem this morning, for something to make me laugh and remind me that DC can be fun in its own way.

but no.

i couldn't even focus on one person this morning. it was like a sea of drab. dark coats, dark suits, dark faces. a few beige coats for those who were feeling spunky. i glanced up at the reflection of myself as we approached rosslyn, in my winter white coat (to highlight the tan, of course! folks, i haven't been this tan since i was 15) surrounded by blah, i couldn't help but feel like it was a bad dream. and when the train stopped at foggy bottom, some of the overhead lights were out. it was like a cave down there.

24 hours ago i was taking the morning stroll down rue mont vernon to the boulangarie for the daily croissants and baguettes with B - walking slowly in flipflops that caught every stone in the road ... the sun pinching my sun burnt arms ... and the salty air. this morning, as i trudged through the foggy bottom station, lights out, the smell of burnt train brakes ... i couldn't help but feel like i could not have found a place on earth further from st. martin.

welcome back. sigh.



on a brighter notes, pics and stories to come soon. including the infamous (at least to B, R and i ... as well as the many beachgoers on orient beach) mr. pocket. people, you are in for a real treat. a little teaser.....