Potpourri

Like the category on Jeopardy, this is just a post of random things.

Track Maintenance.  Oh, Metro.  Whereas I can appreciate that track maintenance must be done, it doesn't stop the frustration I feel when I see the blinking "TRACK MAINTENANCE ADVISORY" sign as I enter the station.  It seems like there is always track maintenance happening.  This past weekend, every line was undergoing track maintenance.  Need to get somewhere in a reasonable amount of time?  Too bad!  The extra crotch-kick of the whole thing is that the schedules aren't updated to reflect the track maintenance, so there isn't a good way to plan for it.  By now, I've come to expect track maintenance on the weekends, so if I need to get someplace, I take the amount of time it normally takes, and multiply it by 60.
     Then the Metro threw me a little surprise yesterday: track maintenance in the middle of the day!  This was unexpected.  I don't know if it was unprecedented or not, I don't often take the metro at noon, but I do think it was ridiculous.  I had to be somewhere in an hour, and hadn't allowed the extra 60x factor to get there.  I do hate running for things, and the metro caused me to run against my will.  The metro is like my middle school gym teacher, replete with unidentifiable musky odor and disapproving glances.

Sketchy Cab Drivers.  Sometimes I wonder if cab drivers really have a passion for the work they do.
     I was ready to head home on Saturday night and considered taking a cab.  I was at a bus stop where a line of cabbies were waiting.  It was pretty late at night, and there are a few things I've learned about trying to take cabs in DC.  First, they don't like to go relatively short distances.  I can understand why, but it gets irritating and I would think bordering on illegal when they just refuse to take you home because you don't live far enough away.  Second, they don't like to only take one person, so they will often try to get a few people to get in their cab who are all going to the same area.  Then they charge each person a separate fare.  I think this happens more often late at night.  I also think this borders on illegal.  Except by borders on, I mean I think it's illegal, but I also want to go home, so I put up with it.
     Saturday night was such a situation.  I told the cab driver where I was going, and he pointed to some other kid who was going to the same area.  I'm not an expert at DC, but the intersection the kid gave the cabbie was not that close to where I was going.  The cabbie pointed vaguely in the direction of his cab and told us both to go with him.  I couldn't see his cab at first, and then he walked up to a large black Lincoln Navigator and opened the doors.  Uhhh.  Lincoln Navigators are not cabs.  I looked in and didn't see a meter.  I asked "Is there even a meter in here?"  He didn't hear me, or chose to ignore me as he walked to the other side and got in the driver side.  I told the kid he could go ahead but I wasn't taking an unmetered cab.  The kid climbed in.  The driver yelled at me "are you coming?"  "No" and I shut the door.  Then the cabbie was pissed, got out, and started trolling the crowd for someone else who was going close to where this kid lived.  I then walked to the Metro station.
     Last night I had a similar situation, and I was on the lookout for the sketch Navigator driving cabbie.  It was much later, and the Metro wasn't an option.  A cabbie who drove a normal yellow cab offered to take me.  I got in his cab, and then he closed the door and went to find more people.  Ugh.  I just wanted to go home, but I knew the game.  After a couple of minutes, he came back.  He said there was someone who couldn't find her car and needed help, but he didn't want to leave me in the car.  Gee, thanks.  So we start to pull away and he starts honking at the girl and telling her to get in so we could find her car.  Of course she doesn't pay attention to him, because from her perspective some crazy cab driver is honking at her and yelling things she can't understand out the window.  So he gives up and drives as fast he can to my house.
     It was about 4 in the morning, and the speed was unnecessary.  There was a lot of honking at the two other cars on the road at the time.  He cut off a semi truck and got severely honked at.  He yelled quasi-obscenities at the truck driver.  Sure, I'd like to get home, but I can wait for this truck to go through the traffic circle.  No need to cut him off.  Really.  Finally we make it to my front door.  I left him an abnormally large tip.  He didn't really deserve it, but I was hoping maybe he would calm the fuck down and the streets of DC would be safer.  Also, sometimes I'm too damn nice.

Really, I'm Alone.  I love burritos.  By now, this is well established.  I was in Chipotle yesterday, and there was a pretty steady line.  I was at the register ready to pay, and then this happened:

Chipotle Employee: What kind of meat is this?
Me: Steak, with Guacamole.
CE: Would you like a drink?
Me:  Yes, please. 
CE: Is this together?
Me: Huh?
::I look to my right to see woman standing next to me::
Me: No.
Woman:  No.
CE: Is this for here, or to go?
Me: For here.
CE: Can I put this on the same tray?
Me:  What?
::CE places my burrito and the woman's burrito bowl on the same tray::
Me: No.  We're not together.
::CE looks very sad::
Woman:  No, we don't-
Me:  We don't know each other.  Really.  I don't know who this is. 
::I turn to woman::
Me: I'm sure you're very lovely.
Woman: And I'm sure you're lovely too.  This same thing happened to me at the movies earlier today.
Me:  Huh.  Weird.
::CE walks away::
Me: Oh, he left.  Uhhh.
::CE returns with the lid of a burrito bowl and hands it to me.::
::I am *confused*::
CE:  Oh, what am I doing?
Me:  I, uh, don't know.
::CE sees the person who actually asked for the lid; she's standing behind me.  He hands it to her.::
::CE tells me the total and rings me up.::
CE:  Thanks.
::CE hands me my receipt and my burrito.::
Me:  Thank you.
::I did not get a drink::

I went to the window seating area in a daze, not quite sure what had happened.  The burrito was good though.

A Dear John Letter to My City

Dear Washington, DC., 

     This is not easy for me to write, and believe me, I am not taking this lightly.  It just doesn't seem to be working out.  It's not you, it's me.  Well, I guess it's a little bit you, but really, I'm willing to take a decent amount of the blame.

     The difficult part, really, is that now we have to enter the part of our relationship where we pretend to make it work.  We know it's not going to work out, but we pretend for the kids, or in this case, because there is a legally binding lease preventing me from packing up all my shit an leaving you in my rear view mirror.  We're like those divorced couples who have to live together because the recession has affected absolutely everything.  I can't afford to live without you and you don't mind me being around so much because at least I don't litter and I pay my taxes.  At a minimum, I help you appear to be more gentrified.  Sure, you may be slowly draining any soul or sense of self I once had, but at least I've already mastered your public transit system.

     You may feel a little blind-sided by this.  I understand that.  You did your best.  You provided free museums and reasonably priced sushi, both within walking distance.    How were you to know that I would prefer the rat-infested urine-soaked train lines of Boston and New Your City?  Sometimes, District, I find your silence deafening.  Also, this may seem trite, but I have had it with your escalator issues.  You spend more time fixing them than you do keeping them operational.  Why do you even have them?  At this point, I think it would be more economical and less frustrating to replace them with stairs.  Except for the ones at Dupont Circle, because people aren't meant to climb up 10 flights of stairs.  I guess I'm just saying that rather than spending all your time, money, and effort fixing the 1952 clunker, why not just replace it with a shiny 2011 model?  

     Also, District, your police cars.  At the risk of sounding like a stand-up comic, what is the deal with your police cars?  First, they always have at least one light illuminated, usually blinking.  For the first two weeks of our courtship, I thought I was constantly being pulled over.  I eventually just gave up driving rather than trying to decipher their light codes.  And the siren.  It's the worst.  Of all the sirens I've heard before, and I've heard a lot (don't give me that, you know I've been to other towns), yours is the worst.  How to describe it?  Bwap.  Bwap.  Pause.  Bwap. Bwap.  It's like a high pitched ape mating call.  

     If it helps at all, our friends are on your side.  They have gone so far as to calling me a dummy straight to my face.  "What's not to love?" they ask.  I try to explain that your relationship with them and your relationship with me are just different.  They don't see the things I see.  They find your traffic circles quaint and your diagonal state-named roads running through your supposed grid layout to be "easy to follow" and "not fucking ridiculous."  Having four separate M streets is fun for them.  So no worries there, DC, you still get to hang out with our friends.  This is another example of where I actually do believe it's not you, it's me.  We just don't fit well together.  

     There isn't anything you need to do.  I'm confident you'll find another girl who actually enjoys being overrun by douchebags and humorless sycophants.  We gave it a try, but when you get right down to it, I'm just not for you.  I hope you can understand.  

     The hardest part of this breakup is, as I previously mentioned, I'm not actually leaving.  I'm going to continue to go through the motions, but I felt as though you should know, when you look into my eyes, a dead soul will be staring back at you.  We'll keep up appearances and I will continue to tell acquaintances that you're lovely.  Your weather is mild and your culture is varied and approachable.  I promise to not speak ill of you; again, I know you gave it your best shot.

     I hope we can still be friends, and I would very much like to visit and still use your Metro system.  Even though I think it's generally terrible, it is better than being shot while walking through the hill.  I apologize.  My impropriety has led me down a dark path.  I know you're trying to clean yourself up.  

     So, if it's ok by you, I'm going to stick around for a little while longer.  I plan to ride your Metro and maybe visit a museum and enjoy your sushi, but my heart won't be in it.  Please don't expect too much from me.  This is now strictly for appearances until the economy turns around or I find something better. 

     Sincerely, 

     Nancy

I Heard the World Today

     Mornings are a very hectic time.  Sure, it's the start of a brand new day, but also, ugh, another day is starting.  There are an unlimited number of things I'd like to do in the morning, but a very finite amount of time in which to do them.  I stick to a routine and I can make it through relatively unscathed.  Somehow, someway, my routine was broken.
     I approached the Metro turn-style and stuck my hand in my pocket to get my SmarTrip card.  That's when I noticed it- I didn't have my phone/life-device.  My heart sank.  I took a step back and did one of those slow-motion semi-circle moves you see in movies.  I could picture it still sitting on my bed, right where I left it.  How, how could I let this happen?  My world started crumbling.  I had an umbrella in one hand and a coffee mug in the other and apparently in my third hand my SmarTrip card.  How had I not noticed the sounds of world before?  What had caused my absent-mindedness?
     I blamed the rain.  The rain was the problem because had I not been concentrating so much on remembering the umbrella, I would have had hand space for my life-device.  I looked behind me and then ahead again.  Do I go back?  How can I survive the day without it?  I forged on, deciding I should be brave this once.  Today I would be forced to listen to the world. 
     Without the pleasant distraction of music in my ear buds and all of the wonderful apps I use during the commute, it was the longest train ride I have ever experienced.  How do people do this?  You can hear other people talking, and the rustle of the papers, and the announcements are deafening.  Except on the morning Metro, you don't hear the people talking because people do not talk in the morning.  It's one of the weirdest phenomenons I have ever seen.  The train is packed with people, but nobody is making noise.  Apparently no two people know each other and clearly nobody wants to make new friends with the person next to them on the metro.
     I did the math (I did not do the math) and at least 85% of people on the Metro are reading something.  A lot of them are reading newspapers.  The really douchey ones read their paper folded length-wise.  I don't understand it, and I don't like it.  To me, they're trying to tell the rest of us they're better because they read the most efficient way possible whilst on the train.  It shouldn't bother me, but I look out for these people and in case I run into them later, I know to not befriend them.  Others are reading the free newspapers that are passed out all over the Metro system and will be carpeting every train in service by the end of the day.  A few read books, magazines, and kindles.  Those of us left not reading are surely being judged by the readers.  Without my ear buds in, I could hear the judgment.
     I made it through my morning commute, umbrella in one hand, coffee in the other, stomach on the ground, and a hole in my heart.  I'll make it through the rest of my day, and in the end I'm sure it'll be fine.  It hasn't killed me yet, but listening to the world has reminded me of why I generally choose not to do so.  I've scrapped my afternoon plans and will rush straight home on the seemingly longest train ride home ever. 

Losing One's Shit

     I am cutting it close to getting today's post up in time.  I cycled through a few ideas hoping to find something that could be mined for a few paragraphs.  Nothing really came to mind.  I have to keep reminding myself what day of the week it is and I considered a post about the days being long but the weeks also being long or some bullshit.
     I am getting increasingly closer to losing my shit each time I ride the Metro.  The escalator situation is out of control.  The announcer woman says clearly "please move to the center of the car" but no one does it.  Hoi polloi insist on strolling as slowly as fucking possible onto the train car increasing the risk of me losing a small body part in the "these doors are not like elevator doors" doors.  Each person thinks the entire Metro system was put in place for them. 
     Let me clarify on the escalator situation being out of control.  All stations in the Metro center have escalators.  Most of them are broken.  I know the old joke- a broken escalator is just stairs.  Wakka wakka wakka.  No.  It is not.  Given the option of stairs, I would take them.  Rarely are there stairs available in the Metro system.
     I get off the Metro every morning at the Navy Yard stop.  To exit the platform there are actually a set of stairs as well as an up direction escalator.  I opt for the stairs.  I began opting for the stairs because standing in line for the escalator is fucking stupid.  Often there is a wee bit of a line for the stairs as well because so many people are exiting at that time, but it tends to be manageable.  Except for when people don't get that the stairs work both ways- up and down.  So when 200 people start going up the stairs, the 3 who need to come down cannot.  Fights break out.
     Then we make it to the turn-style type mechanism we pass through to exit the station.  More lines.  I take a deep breath and count to ten.  Then, THEN, comes the most ridiculous part.  The exit to the street.  Another escalator.  It's an escalator bank actually, there are three of them.  On very rare occasions all three are in operation and during rush hour two go up and one down.  Again I say, this is rare.  Apparently rush hour is also the best possible time to repair an escalator.  For the last week or so there has been one escalator completely out of service and blocked off, one in the down direction, and one just stopped.  It is maddening.  There are several hundred people trying to huff if up an escalator that would be about 4 stories worth of stairs if they were just stairs at the same time.  When you get to the top there are a group of asshats distributing newspapers and a guy whose job is to wear a baseball cap and wave at people leaving the Metro, telling them to "have a nice day."
     It's the kind of thing that makes me almost lose my shit.
     Yesterday on my way home the escalator bank at Dupont Circle was out.  This is not a small or insignificant thing.  If you were to google "Dupont Circle escalators" you would see many news stories about their consistent crappery.  These escalators are pretty fucking serious- they're steep and tall.  I counted once when walking down and it was 120 steps.  I've walked up before but then needed to seek ambulatory care immediately after.  When I approached the broken escalator yesterday (day before, whatevs) I just took an immediate left and went towards the elevator.  Surprise.  There was a line.  (This was not a surprise.)  In the line were a few families, all of whom had strollers and tennis balls.  The escalator is very small, meant for a singular wheelchair and its occupant.  More breathing, more counting to ten.  By the time I made it out of the station, the escalator had started working again.
     It's the kind of thing that makes me almost lose my shit.