Be It Ever So Humble

When leaving for trip, I always think to myself that I’ll truly know I’m home once I ride the Metro. On the occasions where I am SuperShuttled home it takes me a while to adjust. Once on the Metro, able to observe all kinds of crazy shit, I feel a sense of being home overwhelm me even as I’m bewildered by how insane everyone is around here. Behold:

• As I was waiting at National for my Yellow line train to Fort Totten, I suddenly smelled cigarette smoke. Twisting about and buffeted by winds as I did so, I saw some asshole smoking on the platform. I gave him my best “What the fuck?” look which he returned, moving away from the foul smell (I hate, hate the smell of smoke). I feel like kicking myself, though, since smoking is a big no-no on Metro. I should’ve said something. Tourists and idiot business travelers.
• At L’Enfant, two girls around 13 years old hopped onto the train. One proceeded to choose a pole and do a pole dance complete with porn-y music hummed by the kid. When no one on the train reacted, the stripper wannabe sat down next to her friend and was relatively quiet. Call me a pearl-clutcher, but my 13 year old will never get the chance to cruise Metro with only a friend, let alone perform a pole dance.  I’m guessing my 13 year old will be doing homework on a Sunday night since he or she will probably take after their mom, procrastinator extraordinaire.
• At U Street, some college-aged tourists were discussing the merits of Metro in simple terms. (“I don’t know about this Metro thing,” said one.  “Yeah,” said the other, nodding and ending the conversation.) They then stood to exit the train. They stood in the middle of the train, waiting for the doors to open, far from poles or walls for support. Of course the driver announced that the train was moving forward but none paid mind. I smiled a bit when they all went flying. Hee!  How do you feel about Metro now?

All this after a return from a weekend in Michigan which was a lot of fun (and, I admit, a needed visit—it was great to see my family). I love how Metro is able to instantly wash away all the quaintness of the Midwest from my mind. I always tell myself that I’ll come back with some cute, innocent Michigan stories but Metro immediately takes the focus away from Red Wings billboards, construction on Michigan Stadium or the confusion reigning supreme at the Great Harvest Bread Company on Main. It’s DC’s way of saying welcome home, babe.