When you ride public transportation, you cannot
escape from the…public. I’ve come to understand why my fellow passengers on
Metro have their ears full of buds, and their eyes glued to screens. I suspect
that they’re not listening to or looking at anything; it’s just a ploy to block
out any kind of acknowledgement of fellow passengers.
Yesterday on my way home, I was vaguely aware
that the fellow passenger in the seat behind me was eating something for
several stops. (This is strenglich
verboten, but as I’ve even seen uniformed DHS personnel chowing down on
sandwiches and coffee between Metro Center and Tysons, it’s clear that no one
pays any attention to this at all.)
How did I know, you ask? I could hear him. ‘Nuff
said.
Anyhow, somewhere around Greensboro Road I put
away my device to look out on the NoVa scenery, and in my peripheral vision I
noticed something on the back bar beside me. I turned around carefully, and
this is what I saw:
Looks like someone had a worse day than I did.
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