Working on a federal holiday is almost worth it due to light traffic and half-empty Metro cars.
Almost.
UPDATE
Ah, but I typed too soon …
How could I forget what happens on the ride home during a federal holiday: TOURISTS! Clogging up the doorways with their strollers, standing on the left side of the escalators just passin' the time, rockin' their Newseum windbreakers.
And, the coup de grace, the woman with her nasty sandaled feet on the seat I'm aiming for. Sorry, bystander, this isn't your disgusting living room—you'll move those stubby, naked digits.
Flopping hard into the seat and slamming my bag underneath wakes her up a bit.
Tourists. Make me miss my by-the-numbers federal employees every time.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Note to All Metro-Riding Mothers
If you are shepherding a gaggle of pre-pubescents through the Metro, and the subway system is experiencing difficulties and has just gotten back underway, and there are two relatively empty trains waiting behind the current one in the station, do not, do not, do NOT, jam yourself and all of your little brats into an already stuffed-to-the-doors car. There is not enough room, and all you will do is make it that much more difficult for people to get on and off at the next, oh, TEN stops. And whatever you do, do not, do not, do NOT attempt to HOLD THE DOORS OPEN! We, your fellow civilized and in knowledge of the rules passengers, will rise up in protest and attempt to remove you from the train with extreme prejudice.
But now that you are on my car, forcing the big guy next to me to put his butt right in my face, I will tell you that I'll gladly get up and wait for the next nice, cool, empty train to arrive in a grand total of 58 seconds.
Oh, wait, I can't.
Because I can't get past you!
But now that you are on my car, forcing the big guy next to me to put his butt right in my face, I will tell you that I'll gladly get up and wait for the next nice, cool, empty train to arrive in a grand total of 58 seconds.
Oh, wait, I can't.
Because I can't get past you!
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Tourists, Both Foreign and Domestic
Just for the record: Tourists are tourists, and when foreign tourists are in foreign lands, they’re going to act like tourists. I’m tired of Americans taking the worst rap.
I’m on my way home today when my yellow line train pulls in at Reagan National Airport. Typically this is a low-volume stop during rush hour, so I’m surprised when a large group starts bustling into the car. And then one of the worst phrases you can hear while sitting on a train: “I’ll stand in the doorway and hold the doors.” No, no, no. This is simply not done. I am not entertained. You guys are not doing a good job at blending into your surroundings.
Thankfully the dozen or so tourists bearing gigantic bags are able to trundle on without a door-closing fiasco. By their language, this is a group of Germans, and by the George Mason University sweatshirt worn by their (American) leader, they’re students.
Just so you know, standard procedure on the Metro is to move toward the center of the car if it’s crowded; your oh-so-friendly driver will remind you of this throughout the trip, just in case you forgot. These kids, obviously, don’t know the rule, because they flop their mass of huge bags right down in the doorway, clogging it up completely despite a wide-open car around them. I shake my head.
This is going to be trouble.
As the train moves on down the line and into D.C., rush-hour travelers shuffle into the car, slowly picking their way through this unforeseen obstacle course. To my fellow American subway riders’ credit, they remain civil to a man, offering up little more than a polite “excuse me” (good luck finding similar results in NYC). You’d think a clogged train and veritable assault of eye rolls would be universal for “move your crap out of the doorway,” but these kids either aren’t paying attention or don’t care. More than anything I blame the GMU student, who definitely should know better but only gives one half-hearted attempt at getting the Germans to move before they all get off with me at Gallery Place (I’m clipped by a rolling bag and almost go down, but I’m grateful to just be off the train).
I don’t relate this annoying little tale to rip on Europeans. Far from it. They had just gotten into the country—probably a little jet-lagged—and were obviously excited to begin their academic adventure in the United States. Good for them. Welcome. I hope you discover what America is really like, not what you read in the newspapers.
No, I mention it simply to point out that Americans aren’t the only ones who have trouble assimilating into a foreign culture in a moment’s notice. It's just plain difficult, no matter where you come from. With the dollar as weak as it is, I’m sure I’ll encounter more such examples in the next several months (oh, heaven help me this summer).
Of course, if Michelle Obama becomes our First Lady in November, she’ll solve everything. She’s so very proud of our country now for the first time in her so very deprived life, after all.
I’m on my way home today when my yellow line train pulls in at Reagan National Airport. Typically this is a low-volume stop during rush hour, so I’m surprised when a large group starts bustling into the car. And then one of the worst phrases you can hear while sitting on a train: “I’ll stand in the doorway and hold the doors.” No, no, no. This is simply not done. I am not entertained. You guys are not doing a good job at blending into your surroundings.
Thankfully the dozen or so tourists bearing gigantic bags are able to trundle on without a door-closing fiasco. By their language, this is a group of Germans, and by the George Mason University sweatshirt worn by their (American) leader, they’re students.
Just so you know, standard procedure on the Metro is to move toward the center of the car if it’s crowded; your oh-so-friendly driver will remind you of this throughout the trip, just in case you forgot. These kids, obviously, don’t know the rule, because they flop their mass of huge bags right down in the doorway, clogging it up completely despite a wide-open car around them. I shake my head.
This is going to be trouble.
As the train moves on down the line and into D.C., rush-hour travelers shuffle into the car, slowly picking their way through this unforeseen obstacle course. To my fellow American subway riders’ credit, they remain civil to a man, offering up little more than a polite “excuse me” (good luck finding similar results in NYC). You’d think a clogged train and veritable assault of eye rolls would be universal for “move your crap out of the doorway,” but these kids either aren’t paying attention or don’t care. More than anything I blame the GMU student, who definitely should know better but only gives one half-hearted attempt at getting the Germans to move before they all get off with me at Gallery Place (I’m clipped by a rolling bag and almost go down, but I’m grateful to just be off the train).
I don’t relate this annoying little tale to rip on Europeans. Far from it. They had just gotten into the country—probably a little jet-lagged—and were obviously excited to begin their academic adventure in the United States. Good for them. Welcome. I hope you discover what America is really like, not what you read in the newspapers.
No, I mention it simply to point out that Americans aren’t the only ones who have trouble assimilating into a foreign culture in a moment’s notice. It's just plain difficult, no matter where you come from. With the dollar as weak as it is, I’m sure I’ll encounter more such examples in the next several months (oh, heaven help me this summer).
Of course, if Michelle Obama becomes our First Lady in November, she’ll solve everything. She’s so very proud of our country now for the first time in her so very deprived life, after all.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Do I Look Unemployed?
I spent one of the strangest 30 seconds of my life in Target the other day.
I have the day off from work, so I'm in the store shortly after noon (when most other people are working). I'm browsing through the TV-on-DVD section when this guy comes over to me and says, "Can I ask you a question?"
First thought: He thinks I'm a store employee. That's not possible, though, because even if you're color blind like me you know a guy in a brown jacket and black skull cap isn't the same as a worker in a bright red polo.
Second thought: He must be looking for something and is desperate for help. I get that; I've done the same before when a store employee isn't readily available. Sure, I'll do what I can for this guy.
Well, both thoughts are wrong.
As soon as I mumble a "yes" to his question, he starts telling me about how he works for a new company "down the road" and would I be interested in full- or part-time work? Um, no.
"No, sorry, not interested," I tell him.
"Are you sure? We have part-time positions available," he says.
"No, really, but thanks."
He's still not giving up: "What do you do?"
"I'm a journalist. This is just my day off." And I don't care what you're selling, there's no way it's better than my gig.
The guy finally moves off to prey on some other poor unsuspecting shopper. The whole thing was rather creepy, the way he's slinking around the store preying on people he thinks don't have jobs; I've never heard of job recruiting in the TV aisle at Target, and I've certainly never had anything like this happen to me before. I'm so taken aback it's not until I get to the car that I kick myself for not finding out what the job actually was.
I wonder about it for the rest of the day.
I have the day off from work, so I'm in the store shortly after noon (when most other people are working). I'm browsing through the TV-on-DVD section when this guy comes over to me and says, "Can I ask you a question?"
First thought: He thinks I'm a store employee. That's not possible, though, because even if you're color blind like me you know a guy in a brown jacket and black skull cap isn't the same as a worker in a bright red polo.
Second thought: He must be looking for something and is desperate for help. I get that; I've done the same before when a store employee isn't readily available. Sure, I'll do what I can for this guy.
Well, both thoughts are wrong.
As soon as I mumble a "yes" to his question, he starts telling me about how he works for a new company "down the road" and would I be interested in full- or part-time work? Um, no.
"No, sorry, not interested," I tell him.
"Are you sure? We have part-time positions available," he says.
"No, really, but thanks."
He's still not giving up: "What do you do?"
"I'm a journalist. This is just my day off." And I don't care what you're selling, there's no way it's better than my gig.
The guy finally moves off to prey on some other poor unsuspecting shopper. The whole thing was rather creepy, the way he's slinking around the store preying on people he thinks don't have jobs; I've never heard of job recruiting in the TV aisle at Target, and I've certainly never had anything like this happen to me before. I'm so taken aback it's not until I get to the car that I kick myself for not finding out what the job actually was.
I wonder about it for the rest of the day.
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