The Art of Metro-ing

Stuck, confused, nervous..all superb adjectives to describe my first week in DC without a car. I learned to drive in Pennsylvania, after all. I spent my entire undergrad career driving through Sandusky, Buffalo, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Rochester, Ontario, palms sweating, knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel a tad too hard, listening to music a tad too loud. I drove a van all through college - The Beast - and the seats were always full of friends and strangers, alike. After graduation, I bought my first car - Daisy, my beloved green beetle - and I drove her for a happy 1.5 years up until this past May.

So Daisy awaits my coming home in the driveway at my house, and I still shell out money to make a payment for a car that I won't drive until the beginning of September.

I'm starting to think taking public transportation is a form of art. People weave in and out of the Metro gates like a school of fish - darting, never touching, eyes trained on the prize of an on-time ride to anywhere. The first week, I was lost. I didn't really know how to put more money on my Metro card, nor did I understand the concept of "rush hour traffic does not cost the same as Sunday afternoon traffic". Okay, so what does that mean?

It means that I shell out approximately 8-9 dollars a day to get me to and from Alexandria for work. And on Sunday, when the Metro only sends a train once in a while to every station, I pay about 4 dollars to and from where ever. Honestly, I never would have thought about the metro charging for 'rush hour'. We faithful metro patrons pay extra throughout the week to be squished like the sardine school of fish we are. It's fantastic.

So far, I've only encountered one crazy person on the Metro. This encounter actually happened when Kevin and Moni and I were riding the Metro from Mount Vernon (where I reside in DC) to Alexandria (where I commute for work). We wanted to try out the route. Everything was fine on the way there, of course.

On the way back, we swiped our passes, found seats together and life was good. Then the man sitting directly across the way from us begins to talk. Kevin and I try to carry on a conversation and before we know it, this man is yelling. So of course I stare at him (that's what he wants, right? To be noticed?) and he stares back and continues to yell.

This normally wouldn't have bothered me except for the fact that his harmless ramblings turned into phrases like "I'm going to string you up by your feet, Mother F*cker, and gut you like a fish. I'll kill you and all ya'll"

You know, things like that. And he was staring right at us. And then, because this is what I do in uncomfortable situations, I start to giggle. Giggling turns into faking a cough, because oh goodness, he's getting louder and I can't compose myself. Which turns into full-blown, shoulder-shaking, raucous laughter which I try to hide by turning around to the seat behind me.

At this point, I honestly can't control myself and every time I look at Kevin, he is sitting beside me, stony-faced like nothing out of the ordinary is happening, most likely willing me to shut up, but I can't and his composure makes me laugh even harder. How does he keep a straight face when this strange man is clearly going to gut us like fish, and hang us by our feet, no less?

This is why I should probably never attend another funeral. I clearly lack tact.

I'm knocking on wood right now, because so far, out of all the days that I've gone to work and come home from work, everyone seems to mind their own business. No crazies. No fascination with murdering harmless strangers. No fish guts.

So far, the Metro has been fantastic at getting me to my destinations on time and without creepy people or awkward situations. People listen to their iPods and read the daily newspaper and sleep. Me? I'm too preoccupied to read or listen to music. I'm still in the fascination stage, where I have to look out the window and stare into the black abyss tunnels and keep an eye on everyone that's around me because maybe, just maybe, something might be out of the ordinary. And I wouldn't want to miss an opportunity to engage in uncontrollable laughter.

Cars? Overrated.