Training

Now I know that you're all expecting this post to finally be all about our great visit to Colonial Williamsburg over Christmas. "Yes, it's about freaking time", I hear you cry. Well, unfortunately I've once again been distracted by something shiny, namely the DC Metro. As we were returning from a lovely evening out in Rosslyn, VA at a book signing by our favorite humor columnist, Dave Barry, I stood on the train musing about the Metro experience.

'Course I don't mean to brag but I've rode the rails around the world: Singapore with their glass enclosed "silent" system; the London and New York Undergrounds where you can get lost in the same location repeatedly for an entire day during a single trip and Melbourne with their uber-efficient multi-passes that for about $5 a day lets you travel (with the same ticket) on bus, tram (trolley in American-speak) or train - or all three at once if the tracks aren't aligned properly. In fact it usually feels like cars, buses and trams are going to fuse into one at Flemington Roundabout...but that's another story.

Anyway, the DC Metro is an exprience like no other, and all of you elsewhere should thank your lucky stars for that! The experience begins when you enter the train station and have absolutely no idea what trains are running on what lines at what times. These people clearly haven't grasped the concept of early notification. Yes, you all rush down the stationary escalators (see previous post) that seem to drop down to the 7th level of "heck" (hey, my little nephew Robic "reads" these posts), tripping over the idiots that insist on blocking both sides of them even when they do move (hah, that's actually a joke - escalators in DC NEVER move). Simply because they don't have the common courtesy to put signs anywhere in the station other than on the actual platform telling people what trains are going on what track at what time.

So, one survives the stampede to down to the station (generally at least one survives), usually to find that you've just missed your train and have to wait 15 minutes for the next train. At this time you are not thinking, "Gee, how lucky I am that I am still in one piece". No, you're fuming that you missed that one just because the dork with the stroller (pusher in Aussie-speak) didn't stand to the correct side of the "metal stairs". But, soon enough your train comes in and you edge in shoulder to shoulder with all the other single survivors to make sure you get on board within the 2.5 second window the sadistic drivers provide for both exiting and boarding the train.

So again, you squeeze through the doors (can you say, 'bumper people'?) and find your square inch of standing room. Invariably the voice comes over the PA and says, "please do not block the doors". The thing is, as a newby to the whole experience you wonder why it's the "old hands" that are hurling themselves, luggage, articles of clothing and/or small children at the doors. Well, it's not until you're under way that you realize these people are the ones that can't move fast enough nor are strong enough to get through the doors in 2.5 seconds. By the haunted look in their eyes They've probably been riding the rails down there continuously for weeks on end.

But, I kid all our hard working public transit workers. "Ha ha", I say; "Ha ha" Mr public transit lawyer, we're all having so much fun laughing together. In all seriousness, as a new customer to the "service" one can sum up the experience of the ride - the whole exhilerating, enervating, energizing experience - in a single word: "whiplash". Based on the lurching, jerking manner of driving, the train operators either msut be suffering from a serious nerve disorder or clearly get a point for every headless person that shows up at a station. Possibly because more fatalities means fewer people fighting to get off the train, allowing them to justify reducing the magic 2.5 seconds to 1.25 seconds (approximately 1 milliblink in metric-speak), because then they only have to provide time for the people to get on the train (very efficient).

So, all in all, a ride on the good ol' DC Metro isn't just a lesson in Darwin's Theory of Natural Selection - it's also a once in a lifetime experience. At least you may only be able to experience it once in your lifetime unless you're stronger and fitter than the other commuters trying to get down those steel stairways. So come one and all if you think you've got what it takes. But I suggest you invest in a sturdy neck brace.