Tag Archives: metro

10 Days for NPH — Day Five

It was bound to occur.  The perfect storm.  

On this rainy day in May, the first work day after a 3-day weekend, I entered the depths of the Metro, only to find a gaggle of people waiting for a train, which was obviously delayed.  I sighed and looked up at the marquee, to see that the next train would not arrive for another 9 minutes.  As I stood on the platform, I watched as hoards of other commuters came down onto the platform.  Finally, the train arrived, already packed with people.  Half the platform emptied, as commuters squeezed their ways into the already-packed trains anxious to make it to their destinations.  Rather than force  my way in, I waited for the next train, which was scheduled to arrive in another five minutes.  I patiently played sudoku on the platform, walking away from any individuals displaying symptoms of the swine flu.

Finally, the next train arrived.  Although stuffed with humanity, I reluctantly pushed my way in, as the next train would not arrive for another 7 minutes and would also be bound to be packed.  I positioned myself toward the opposite door, flanked by a plexiglass wall and the door, and I held on for dear life.  The train moved forward, herking and jerking about, stumbling toward the next stop.  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, we arrived at the Rosslyn stop, where even more individuals boarded the train.  A woman pressed up against me, and the perfume emanating from her body immediately swarmed into my nasal cavity.  I could taste the alcohol and artificial botanicals on my tongue.  The train doors closed.  We lurched forward, stopped, lurched, stopped, lurched, stopped.  I held on as best as I could, while attempting to hold my breath for fear that a deep inhalation would lead to the Metro shutting down because of me—that I would be the sick customer.

Finally, I arrived at my destination.  I burst out of the train and headed up the stairs as a warm feeling simmered under my breath.  As I emerged from the depths of the Metro, I ran toward the nearest garbage and puked my breakfast out, much to the horror of those around me.  I stood there for just a while longer, head down, panting in relief.  At that moment, I did not think of Tina Fey NPH.  I did not think of a life of Hollywood fame and fortune.  Amidst my puking stupor, a fellow commuter came up to me and asked, “Are you okay?”

My mission, buried beneath nausea and bile, became clear.  I channeled Tina Fey NPH and replied, “I’m awesome.”  (Then I rubbed a gallon of hand sanitizer over my hands that touched the nasty garbage can).  Savor my devotion.

Discover me, Tina Fey NPH!

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Filed under Legal Woes, Life, Plea to NPH, Plea to Tina Fey, WMATA - Metro

10 Spankin’ New Days for Tina Fey — Day Ten

Last night, I took a cab home on the advice of the hubby.  While at home, I attempted to plot a Google Maps route to my office that would not entail brushes with vehicular death on ill-planned VA—>DC roads.  Unsuccessful with such plotting, I had a decision to make this morning—drive to work on the clusterf*ck known as Route 50, or take the Swine Flu Express?

I decided to risk the Swine Flu Express, since cases had not yet been reported in my immediate area . . . although DC is smack dab in between reported cases in New Jersey/New York, and North Carolina.  First, I packed my bag with a handful of tissues, to be used as I await the shipment of my N95 face masks.  Second, I also packed a bottle of alcohol-based hand sanitizer (vanilla scented, thank you very much).  As I descended into the Metro, I became overwhelmed with a familiar scent—the smell of burning rubber.  Such scent became far more alarming . . . if the burning rubber scent from within the depths of the Metro tunnel could travel upwards to become detectible from the top of the Metro escalators, it became more conceivable that airborne viruses and pathogens could spread just as easily.

Finally, I entered the depths of the Metro and and had the opportunity to enter a packed train headed toward DC.  While most saw a packed train with an opening for entrance, I saw this:

Swine Flu Express

Image Link

Since I did not have my Hazmat suit (how the hell do you buy one of these things?), I decided to wait for the next train.  The next train came and was moderately filled, with sufficient spacing in between standing individuals that would enable me to insulate myself with my makeshift mask.  However, as I thought about stepping into the train, I noticed a woman wiping her nose with what appeared to be a tissue that had become so overloaded with virus-filled mucus that it had formed a hard, moist ball that contained sufficient pathogens to off a small city.  The woman’s head was tilted downward, and her forehead appeared to have a few beads of sweat, indicating a fever.  In other words, she looked a little like this:

Swine Flu ExpressImage Link

Needless to say, I backed out and waited for the next train.  Finally, the next train arrived and was moderately empty.  I located a standing position in which I was blocked from potential pathogens with a door and a wall, thus limiting my exposure to a half-circle around my body.  I steadied myself for the bumpy ride using my legs, being careful to never touch anything in the Metro.  I exited one stop early, bursting out but careful in avoiding contact with other individuals.  As I came out from within the depths of the Metro, I slathered hand sanitizer all over my hands and wrists—and maybe a little on my exposed forearms for good measure.

Tina Fey, if you hire me to be on your staff, I promise to be totally free of swine flu.  I’m taking all the necessary precautions right now.  And I’ll totally fit in with your writers.  I’m creative.  I’m hard-working.  I’m personable.  And who wouldn’t want to spend hours in a writers’ room with someone donning a face mask and goggles, and applying hand sanitizer on the hour?  

Discover me, Tina Fey!

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Filed under Life, Plea to Tina Fey, WMATA - Metro

Miracles can happen

Yes folks, miracles can surely happen.  Last night and this morning, I got a seat on the Metro.  I’ve already searched the Internet, and apparently Congress is in session, so I have no freaking idea how I got a seat.  Two things to note.

Last night, I sat on one of the newer Metro trains.  I noticed something about these new trains–they actually have advertisements on the ceiling!  And then I put it all together.  In order to generate additional revenue, the folks at WMATA decided to equip the ceiling with advertisements.  And in order to entice businesses to purchase such advertising space, the Metro conductors have been instructed to make the ride as bumpy as hell so that enough passengers will fall to the ground, thereby getting exposed to the ads on the ceiling!  It’s genius!  I should write the WMATA a letter expressing my appreciation for thinking outside the box to increase income.

This morning, I also was the lucky beneficiary of a seat on the Metro.  Let’s talk again about Metrotiquette.  DO NOT wear nasty ass cologne if you will be anywhere near people.  If you want to use cologne to cover up your scent of wet nasty dog, do it in the comfort of your home.  Don’t cover yourself Mystic Tan style before getting on public transportation.  I sat down next to this nasty man and lasted for one stop.  Then, the gag reflex began to kick in, I did the cost-benefit analysis in my head, and concluded that standing up and bearing the bumpy ride would be less vomit-inducing than sitting next to Eau de make me Groan.

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Filed under Things I Loathe, WMATA - Metro

News to Amuse

Mexican Bus Drivers Demand Tips for the Ride From Hell:  Mexico City’s union of “Pesero” bus drivers are demanding tips for taking their riders on the ride of their lives.  Pesero bus drivers are renowned for serving up cheap thrills and dangerous spills.  In fact, the spread of American television has caused Mexico City’s youth to demand to “go to Disneyland.”  In response, Mexico City parents have duped their children into believing that the Pesero is in fact run by Mickey Mouse, and the kids are eating it up (until they die in a fiery crash).

Union leaders are demanding tips, in part to cover “driver training.”  Each Pesero driver must undergo a rigorous 50-hour training program, the last 2 minutes of which is the official Pesero driving test, in which the driver-to-be must kill at least one person to pass.

Disclaimer:  yadda yadda yadda.  I made this up.

But seriously.  Tips for being shitty?  Next thing you know, I’m supposed to tip the burger joint for giving me food poisoning and the chick from Supercuts for giving me a faux-hawk and the Metro for giving me whiplash.

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Filed under News to Amuse, WMATA - Metro

What’s the worst thing you can say to someone who just bit it?

So on Monday, I was walking to the Metro (boy, do I have a lot to say about the Metro) and it was raining. Picture this. It’s Monday and I’m off to another day of work. I head off toward the dreaded Metro. I’m wearing my messenger bag. I’m carrying some papers in my left arm. I’m carrying my cane/umbrella in my right hand. I take one step and . . . my right foot sweeps into the air; my face contorts with the pain of someone who is trying to regain her balance but realizes that it just ain’t happening; I reach my left foot out, hoping to regain a balance that has already been hopelessly lost; in an effort to regain balance, I am now parallel to the ground; umbrella flies in the air; I land with a thud on the cold, wet concrete. My body contorts, as my ass thankfully lands on my messenger bag, saving me the humiliation of walking to work with a dirty ass. Although I feel immense pain, I immediately jolt up, hoping, praying in fact, that no one saw this ultimate display of all things not graceful.

Someone behind me says those words you never want to hear . . . “Oh my god. Are you okay?”

Note to self. Next time I see someone fall, just ignore him/her. Unless the fallee (I’m a lawyer and it’s my job to make up words) is (a) screaming Bloody Mary; (b) bleeding profusely; (c) passed out; or (d) there is an audible crack — just move on. The humiliation is too much to bear. Even if you have to physically step over the fallee, do NOT say, “Are you okay?” S/he is okay. Until you say that. So shut the hell up and move on.

Oh, and for all you lawyers out there. My file of papers was safe. Thank god. They were originals. Note to self. Don’t take home originals, you fucking moron.

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Filed under Personal Pontification, WMATA - Metro