Baublehead encounter

I was in the Main Hall of the Kennedy Center talking to some friends--I believe we were saying how all you had to do to establish yourself in a tropical paradise was to join an insurgency in Western China-- when out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the Baublehead walking toward the Opera House. She has that distinctive a look: I could spot her amid a sea of people.

After the show, I got in line for a shuttle bus to the metro. I don't consider myself especially gracious or patient, but apparently, I'm among a small minority of people who wouldn't push elderly or blind people out of the way to get on the next bus (or elsewhere on the metrorail system). I had to wait a few minutes for another shuttle, but I got to Foggy Bottom just in time to catch my train. Just as I sat down and thought how great it was that I didn't have to wait 18 minutes for another train, I once again, out of the corner of my eye, caught sight of the Baublehead. Who sat right next to me.

Now, thankfully, I had already pulled out my New Yorker and was so deeply immersed that it was normal for me not to look up, and she's actually more socially adept than my roommate, so she didn't read "A. immersed in a magazine" as an invitation for conversation; also, she was with other people, so after a minute or so, she got up and sat with them across the aisle. Unfortunately, I did look up eventually, and our eyes met. I nodded and smiled; she did the same.

Mercifully, there was no single-tracking or other metro incident that night, and I managed to emerge from the train without further contact with the Baublehead.