I am a Metro rider. Every morning, I walk down my hill to the Metro, listening to my iPod, looking at the sky, plotting out my day, and conveniently blocking out what lies ahead, until I reach the last stretch of the journey. Down below, innocently enough is the train station. It is truly a train station, not just a Metro stop; Amtrak and MARC both stop here too. Every day, I do the same thing: I look up at the Rockville clock tower to assess my progress, then glare at the Rockville Metro, daring it to try to break me. Ours is a constant battle of wills.
I've been asked many times if I've ever made it to work WITHOUT a Metro adventure. I'm sure it's happened, but who would want to hear about it?? I ride the Red Line, the oldest and busiest of the Nation's Metro lines. My commute in to work on Metro is an hour if everything goes as planned. It never does.
You've read about the Red Line: on June 22, 2009, 9 people were killed and 76 injured when one train backed up and over. Earlier, a train had broken down, and Metro was doing what they commonly do: send trains BACK along the line to clear up space for the downed train to proceed, a maneuver also used on November 3, 2004, causing the crash at Woodley Park (also on the Red Line). I had brought my daughter with me that day. We were on the train, and we were the first train not to be sent backwards. It took us nearly three hours to get home. Since then, Metro has increased fares, conducted track maintenance at sporadic and inconvenient intervals, and (I'm pretty sure) actively broken most of the escalators in the system, just to provide us the full level of entertainment for our $5.25 on-way fare.
Most of what I will talk about here will be far less tragic than either of the two crashes mentioned above. I won't lie. I will make it sound as horrific as I can...I am not a morning person, and I suffer from LPT (Low People Tolerance). Yet after I finish kicking whatever kitten is lying around to dispel my anger and frustration at the day's commute, I generally manage to get some giggles.
About a week ago, I was riding in on a very crowded train. I was standing. I did what every knowledgeable Red Line rider does: I traveled four stops to the Grosvenor stop and got off. On the Red Line in the direction of Shady Grove (in other words, heading back to my house from DC), you can get on the less crowded trains that only go as far as Grosvenor. This is great for those how live downtown, and don't have to schlep out to the 'burbs where I live. Yes, it makes me sad that I no longer live in Bethesda and cannot take advantage of it. BUT I found a way to make it work for me. The train that only goes as far as Grosvenor must turn around and go back into the city...and it's EMPTY! I walked on, and took a seat on the empty train.
Two stops later, a man gets on the train. There are still empty seats, but he sits right beside me. I gritted my teeth and continued to update my Facebook, chat with friends, and play Angry Birds. It isn't long until I feel him leaning on me, heavier and heavier. He was asleep. I tried to wiggle away, but that was too subtle a clue. I nudged him without making eye contact. He shifted over in the other direction, then slowly back over toward me. Rinse and repeat...and repeat...and repeat.
I switch over to the Green Line for the final leg of my daily journey at Gallery Place/Chinatown (oh, the fun we'll have on THAT discussion). As it approached, I was willing myself not to shove him out of his seat. Metro Center is the stop just before mine, and I was beginning to wonder if I really WOULD have to shove him out of the way just to get off. The train operator opened the doors, then a moment later announced the stop, "Metro Center. This is the Red Line to Glenmont." My little snuggle bug hops up, looks at me and says, "Thank you! Have a nice day!" and bolts through the closing doors. Hello??? Can I get a tip for services rendered???
This type of ridiculousness is not uncommon at all, as you will see, but it made me realize that you can't make this stuff up. So, I figured I would start a blog to regal you all with the tales of my underground adventures. In selecting the name, I thought of all the things I associate with Metro...it boiled down to horror...which made me think of Lovecraft's Necronomicon: the book of the dead. I also call the Red Line the Dead Line, for a number of reasons. So. I arrived at Metronomicon. I do hope it instills, in equal parts, humor, and horror, and abject gratitude that you are not a daily rider! And if you are...heaven help us both!
