Metro Closes Doors

This morning on my daily commute, I heard a blackberry ring. As per instinct, I reached down into my holster for mine only to find I was not ringing. This got me thinking.

On any given morning commute, there are probably 20-50 blackberries per car. As the blackberries are usually the property of one’s work, very few are “bedazzled” with some stupid ringtone. Meaning: 50 people on the same metro car, in all likelihood, have the exact same ring tone. A throw back to the days where you either had a Motorola, or a Nokia.

As many listen to their ipod on the metro, people don’t notice their phone ringing, especially if it is in their bag. I had to look the culprit in the eye, take out my blackberry, and point as it, to non-verbally say: “Hey dipshit, stop listening to Hey there, Delilah and answer your fucking blackberry.”

Bottom line: Keep the crackberry on silent.

Hat tip to The D.C. Universe for writing an amazing bit.

I read an excerpt in Express in the blog section. Such a great article.
Full version (here)

The following story was sent as a submission for the blog, and it is great. If you have a story, drop us a line at

Yesterday evening on my way home from a long day at work, I am as usual scrambling to get on the metro.

To you metro farter, I hate you.

Did you hear metro ridership hit an all time high in June? I know because I was on the metro and it was fucking crowded.

This conversation took place on the 38B from Georgetown to Ballston. If you’ve ever taken this bus, or any bus like it, at 11:00PM at night you know what’s up.

It’s like riding a bus with half of a Guatemalan village. Except for seeing the third world outside, you get to see coked out anorexics falling down in the street outside of Smith Point.

Awesome.

Anyways, on this magical bus ride, the bolded quote above was blurted out.

It got me thinking. In my months here, has Metro become more crowded? I’d say that it has.

If we can’t trust Metro to get the PIDS (point of information displays) correctly, how can we trust them to alleviate this problem. Answer is; we can’t.

I rode on one of the new cars the other day. It had cameras! I laughed. If Metro can’t tell us which train is coming next, how can we trust them to keep us safe?

SiCKO
Why do sick people have to take the metro? Or at least sit down next to you with a cold when there are open rows abound? A sick person should never choose to sit next to you; you should be stuck with sitting next to a sick person. It’s common courtesy.

Roll Bag= D BAG

It’s 7:30AM, the morning rush. You’re whipping around the corner of the platform of Gallery Place, when a petite 50 something lady cuts right in front of you from the opposite direction. No big deal, right? Big deal. This person can’t even carry their fucking belongings to work, so you have to abruptly stop to avoid kicking their rolly bag, or face the consequence of getting bumped from behind.

These things should be banned. I can understand why Airline folks do it, but not these ladies. Unless you’re going to the airport, carry your shit like everyone else, or drive.

Everywhere I travel, tiny life. Single-serving sugar, single-serving cream, single pat of butter. The microwave Cordon Bleu hobby kit. Shampoo-conditioner combos, sample-packaged mouthwash, tiny bars of soap. The people I meet on each flight? They’re single-serving friends.

-Fight Club

Do you ever have that one person you strike up a conversation with waiting for the late train that you end up becoming friends with?

Usually, it happens at night, when you don’t have to sit next to anyone really, but because this person is actually sane, you keep talking. Maybe because the people you deal with daily are so out of touch with reality, this seems enthralling. Who knows?

But single serving metro friends rule.

Has anyone else witnessed these “kids” in Union Station asking for donations for their basketball team? Wanting to “ask you a few questions”?

Sure, if kids in basketball uniforms line up outside of T.C. Williams HS on King street, I’ll take their word and give ‘em a dollar. Call me skeptical for wondering what these kids are doing in Union Station not in uniform when school’s been out for weeks. Kids don’t collect money for their schools during the summer, it’s just not how public schools work.

These 4 young lads get on the Red Line, and I sit down next to two tourists, who certainly are wondering what these gypsyesque youngsters want. In succession, all four asked each of us their tag line, each with diminishing politeness. Upon the last “no thank you”, the fourth slummed down in a seat two rows in front of us, and says “man, these people are so f*****g cheap!”. The four boys laughed in unison.

It gets better.

Not but three seconds later, these two middle aged ladies from (I assume) the Midwest, start laughing uncontrollably. Noticeably irked, the kids exclaimed their disbelief at the public mockery from two tourists, and promptly exit the train at Judiciary Square.

Tourists- 1
Local Kids- 0

Clearly, Metro etiquette would dictate that you either mute incoming phone calls you know you can’t answer (you’re in a fricking tunnel). To some however, mostly teenie bopper’s from GWU listening to iPods, or sleepy grave yard shift workers, letting your annoying ringtone permeate the entire car seems to have become a hobby.

I can understand the daddy’s girl from Milford, CT being too aloof to notice that her Verizon “f-a-b-o-l-o-u-s ” V-Cast is blasting throughout the cavernous re-habbed metro car. Maybe even the guy who has been working all night not knowing that la-cucaracha in MIDI format (a relic of the 1990′s) is annoying us. But today, a white gentlemen wearing a new U.S. Air Force Uniform didn’t seem to notice his “Gangsta’s Paradise” by Coolio ringtone for about 30 seconds. The Dangerous Minds reference threw me for a total loop, as do most random ring tones. I looked in his general direction, assuming maybe, it was not his phone, until he got a puzzled look on his face, wondering “is this my phone ringing?”, when in fact it was.

Maybe I am preaching to the choir, but, if you know you can’t answer your phone three stories underground, please just mute it and save us all of the agony.

I saw this lady sitting in single row by the driver, reading this book. As if reading this in public wasn’t enough of a scarlet letter about how unhappy you are with your (lack of) romantic life, she was holding it up to her face while she was reading it, like you’d see in movies.

Apparently, this is how professional women cope with forgoing the substitute from “love”, to “love of work”.

Our friend Matt suggested that it’s like those Chicken Soup for the Soul books everyone seems to be reading nowadays. It really is sad that you have to publicize your depressed state with all of us other riders, so please cut it out, and go eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

Book Description from Amazon (seriously)

Written especially for single women, this user–friendly devotional helps individuals searching to understand their place in the world draw closer to the true Lover of their soul. Bestselling author Michelle McKinney Hammond combines usable scriptural principles for daily living with inspirational stories, quotes, and personal experiences of life, love, and men.

Readers will find assurance that their singleness is to be embraced, celebrated, and used as a time to grow closer to the Lord. They will also discover how to…

* realign their priorities
* get the most from being single
* have a joyful and meaningful existence without a mate

With her humorous, tell–it–like–it–is style, Michelle connects with readers and shares the fulfillment she has found in Christ.