Misadventures on the Metro

chapter 1

Aahh, public transit is a wonderful modern marvel, especially in a city with horrific traffic. But some days, doubtful thoughts creep into my mind and I wonder if it's really worth it.

Recently I was traveling to work by way of a crowded metro train, balancing next to what could be a stripper pole, my head buried in a thick novel. We arrived at a stop and a crowd of people rushed into the already full car. Just as the doors were about to close, a man with a robust belly squeezed his way inside, pinning me between the glass and his protruding gut. I was facing forward and he was facing me, breathing down my neck. Luckily I had my book for distraction; it was a very awkward ride to work.

Just last night as I headed home after a long day on Capitol Hill, I found myself once again standing on the metro train, though the cars were not overly packed. I was lost in my book when a group of commuters boarded the train, including a 40-something man in a light blue dress shirt. He stood mid-car, hands grasping the railings overhead. As the doors closed his pungent odor hit me like a ton of bricks. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but I seemed to have momentarily forgotten how. My eyes started to water and I was consigned to taking as few breaths as possible. Trying not to empty the contents of my stomach, I prayed he would at least put his arms down. He didn’t.