Misadventures on the Metro

chapter 22
I debated whether to compose this chapter in my saga of public transportation perils, but concluded it illuminates too many essential Metro issues to remain unwritten. Therefore, the account you are about to read is a true story. Characters and places have not been changed to protect those involved. Events are not based upon a real story, they are indeed the real story.

Honestly, I’m not so far removed from the situation that my memories are white-washed blank. Once upon a time I was young and single and looking. And I was attractive and conscientious about what I wore or did to attract a handsome hunk of the opposite sex.

After watching my fair share of “handsome-successful-wealthy-single-boy-walks-down-the-street, boy-runs-into-girl, stars-align, boy-romances-girl, boy-and-girl-marry” movies designed to make girls cry and boys sneak-rent at Blockbuster, I developed romanticized notions about finding love. But let’s be honest: those movies are bogus! Have you ever known two super-humanly gorgeous people who “coincidentally” meet in a public place and move in together within the week? The so-called starry-eyed gaze when two lovers’ paths happen to cross is actually a “hey moron, watch where you’re going” look in real life.

Romantic comedy cynical-ness aside, I am also aware of the unconventional meeting/dating methods creeping into mainstream society. I am personally related to someone who met and asked out several girls via Facebook. Ever heard of MySpace? E-harmony? LDSsingles.com? Etc., etc., etc.

But there are rules on the Metro. Stringent rules, the likes of which when broken result in heinous eye rolling and lethal laser looks. I am an obey-er of the rules. I sport cute little ear buds and a book. I am very good at averting eye contact. And as a bonus, because I care about people, I am conscientious about my personal odor and which hand holds I grab.

Nothing was different about my rule-abiding behavior during a recent commute to work. I was so engrossed in my music/book that I didn’t notice anyone around me. As usual, when the train reached my station, I exited and headed toward the escalators.

About to step on the moving stairs, I heard someone say, “Hey.”

“Excuse me?” I turned to see who was trying to get my attention.

“You’re looking fine today.”

I turned Chanel matte lipstick shade electric red, muttered thanks and got on the escalator. It was odd for a normal-looking, Bluetooth headset-wearing, business-attired man in his 30s to go out of his way to compliment someone’s appearance, my appearance. Luckily I was less creeped-out than caught off guard. I stared ahead and pulled my phone out of my pocket to make a call. Just as I raised the headset to my ear, I heard, “Can I get your name?”

Really, did he just ask me that?

“Um, I’m actually married.”

“Oh, well you’re looking really great today.”

I didn’t’ respond. The rest of the 45-second escalator ride, with him standing directly behind me and me pretending the situation never occurred, felt like an hour. I didn’t turn around again until I was safely in my work building and sure he was nowhere in sight.

I haven’t been hit on (except by my husband) in who knows how long, but I can tell from experience that the Metro is not the place to pick up ladies.

Message to guy in Metro station: try eHarmony. Or a bar. Or a co-worker, but leave me alone! (And yes, I’m contacting WMATA about amending the Metro Riding Rules and Regulations to include something about this incident.)