Public Transportation Hell

First of all, I moved in with Miguel this past weekend. I am positively ecstatic to have all of my belongings in one single closet instead of living out of a suitcase like a gypsy or a traveling salesman. This is a very good thing...

But now... have I mentioned that I am partially retarded?...

One of the first things I did this weekend (much to Miguel's consternation) was lose my brand new condominium ID card. This is the essential document that lets me into the gym and allows me to ride the "Cameron Station metro shuttle," which I need to do every morning at 6:55am in order to get to work. Of course, replacement ID's are only given out from 9am to 5pm Monday through Friday, which means I'm SOL. After retracing every single step I took yesterday evening to find the card, I declared it a total loss and began considering alternative solutions, such as forging a card on the computer, having Miguel write a pleading letter on my behalf, and/or just walking to the metro at an insane hour this morning to get to work on time.

In the end, I opted for sheer and obvious trickery -- which involved me holding up Miguel's ID card to the shuttle driver and hoping he would not notice that it did not belong to me, for a) the photo showed a darker skinned Hispanic male, and b) the name in large black letters distinctly said "Miguel S." To my glee, my dim-witted plan worked, and the mega-observant shuttle driver let me on the bus without the blink of a clearly blind eye.

The shuttle deposited me 15 minutes later at the metro station, where I proceeded to hop aboard a "blue line" train to Rosslyn station. After climbing around 150 steps to the top of the platform (my daily cardio), I then had to wait another 10 minutes for my Metrobus to take me to work. Of course, as soon as I got to work, I remembered that it was my new boss's birthday, and I had totally brainfarted on buying bagels for his morning breakfast celebration (as I had signed up to buy and bring in last Friday), and thus had to purchase a dozen bagels at about three times the going rate in the employee cafeteria. Retarded move number 13, 348 in my life. As the cafeteria only provides small plates or single-serve plastic containers for food items, I had to wait about 10 minutes while a cafeteria worker tried to find me a bag big enough for 12 bagels. I ended up with 3 overstuffed Burger King bags, plus a very full cup of coffee, that I nearly dropped about 10 times on the way to the elevator.

The day itself was fairly uneventful, although my saga of retardness continued at the end of the day, when I got on the wrong bus coming home. I realized it pretty much immediately, when we hooked a left going out of the parking lot instead of a right (which is the way I wanted to go). I awkwardly asked aloud to my dozing bus neighbors if we were in fact heading toward Rosslyn, only to met with pitiful stares and sad shakes of the head. I was, indeed, heading off into uncharted suburban territory.

I immediately realized I needed to exit the bus so after dinging the bell, I was dropped off fairly ungraciously on a pebble-strewn median next to a neighborhood full of McMansions. Cars were whizzing past me at about 70 mph, and I prayed that I wasn't one of those sad "shoulder of the road" victims that get smeared while changing tires or just innocently walking to a strip mall. I prayed fervently that a bus might be coming to pick me up and take me in the other direction, and after about 15 minutes, my wishes came true. The correct Metrobus, driven by a clearly agitated driver, carrying an angry-looking black man and a complete nerd reading a sci-fi fantasy novel (who did not even look up to see me board and was likely unaware the bus had even stopped), pulled over and saved my day.

Thirty minutes of bucolic suburban driving later (and one more chapter down of "The Devil Wears Prada"), I was dropped off in front of my mother's condominium, where I am taking a short break before meeting my friend Greg (from UA, who is here this week) and Miguel for drinks... much needed... at the Old Ebbitt Grill downtown.

ps - Sorry for the lack of interesting graphics, but they take a long time to find and download, and my mom is starting to harangue me to have a drink with her. What, may I ask, is more important? Drinks or graphics? Ahhh, yes... goodbye!