Who's in charge of this nut house?

The danger (or benefit, depending on how you look at it) of people knowing I have an environmental blog is that whenever I tell a story I get asked, "Are you going to blog about it?", which just reminds me that I should and if I don't, it's because I'm being lazy. So, to clear my conscious, here's a story about today's commute, with the theme: who's in charge of this nut house?

Things started off great. I left work early with a four-day holiday weekend ahead of me. After waiting seven minutes or so, the bus approaches, and it's the fast 316. I pull out my day pass, stand near the curb and "hail" the bus in the way I've seen others do it -- not raising my arm like I'm hailing a taxi, but subtly pointing my arm out toward the ground. Well, apparently I should have been more obvious. The bus zoomed right on by. I understand when buses don't stop because they literally don't have room for one more passenger, but I saw standing room. There was room for me. I text a friend in anger. Then after five minutes or so, the slow 16 comes by and picks me up. This bus is full too and it's the usual rush hour dance -- I hold the strap and sway to the rhythm of the road, then more space opens up farther back and I move, only to be in the way of a woman exiting the bus. Then I'm in the way again and keep moving back. It lightens up after Western and I finally sit.

But the first half of my commute was just the appetizer. Things got more fun when I got downtown. At the 7th Street Metro Station, I turned the corner to go down the stairs to the Blue Line platform and saw a mass of people on my platform. What are they all doing here? Now that's a photo for people who think no one takes the train. Before I felt the need to ask a stranger what was going on, they announce that a train is coming. Oh god, I thought, there's going to be a riot. They made another announcement, this time saying that three trains were coming within minutes of each other and not everyone was going to fit on the first train. I don't have much faith in people (individual people yes, but in a group they turn tribal), and sure enough, tons of people squeezed onto the first train like sardines, leaving those of us still on the platform to haughtily laugh at their shortsightedness.

The next train came a few minutes later and I got on. I spent most of the ride standing in the corner behind a guy with a bike with nowhere to grip. Inevitably, at a big lurch he fell back into me and I put my hand on his back to stop him (thankfully he wasn't sweaty or smelly, which is quite common on the train). He apologized but I said it was OK because I saw it as me helping him not fall over. We all have to work together here, people. Which leads me to the most interesting part of the ride. At the Florence stop a guy jumped on as soon as the doors opened and blocked the people who wanted to get off. Bike Guy yelled at him but he acted like nothing was wrong. So there I was squished against the wall, with Bike Guy in front of me and now Rude Guy pushing up against us as a dozen people squeezed past to get off the train. Oh hey, did I mention taking public transportation is just swell. Everyone should do it!

I can laugh about this because I was in a good mood. But if this had been a normal Thursday, I might have given Rude Guy a piece of my mind. OK, I'm totally not that person. I probably would have been crying on the inside by the time I got home, then washed away the pain with some chocolate. What I did do was tell my friend, to which she replied, "Are you going to blog about it?"