Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Riding the rails

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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