The day in public transportation

This was going to be a post about how my roommate expect a medal, or at least goes on as if he does, for the slightest thing, but I really can't be asked to care anymore, so instead I'm going to complain about the metro and some of its ridership.

This morning, this guy plunked down next to me and practically bludgeoned me with his messenger bag. He realized it, removed it slightly. As the train progressed on its route, the messenger bag progressed back into my personal space. It was definitely out of line before I let out a frustrated sigh. The guy said, “sorry,” but in a tone that implied that it was oh-so-princessy of me to expect that he keep his bag off my lap. Some people.

Then, this afternoon, I decided to stop at Bed, Bath and Beyond. I could have just gone to the one near the office, but I thought I might hit Harris Teeter at the same time if I went to the one in Pentagon City. See, I've been on a fool's errand for a new, individual-sized French press. Mine broke yesterday, and I set about to search for another one right away. Whole Foods only had an eight-cup press, and a very expensive one at that; C&B outlet had a large one as well, for a third less, but I still didn’t want a giant press taking up space in my cabinets when a smaller one would do. If I want to make coffee for eight people, I’ll use a coffee pot. Last night's search was at least pleasant, though. It was a lovely walk back home through Old Town amid all the recycle bins left out, with many a bottle of wine in each. Some beer, too. It was fascinating. But I digress. (Although before I move on, I should say I took a few cans of V8, as well as some pudding cups, out of the trash and into the recycling last night).

So today I stopped at B3. They did have an individual press, but it cost as much as the large ones, and it was still bigger than the one I needed. I was too tired to hit Marshalls, so I went to HT, got my veggie burgers, and headed home. Only to be stuck on the metro for at least half an hour, with frozen food and all. Now, I know I shouldn't complain about metro slowdowns--better that than metro accidents--but what was creepy was feeling so vulnerable just sitting there in that last car. Not cool that the thought even crossed my mind--and I wonder how many other passengers were thinking about it. Metro's working on it, I guess.