Capital Thoughts 4: Subway Edition
For those not in the know, Washington DC has a fantastic subway system. It’s so top notch for a variety of reasons: A) It’s illegal to eat, drink or smoke (and this law is strictly enforced), which keeps the cars *very* clean, and B) The trains run at regular intervals, unlike the T. The trains also run late when they should, until 3 on Friday and Saturday nights.
Still, taking the Metro in and out of town everyday can be boring at times: There’s not a lot of scenery, and a boring book can cause a wasted 20 minutes. So ocassionally, I take a look around at fellow passengers.
Firstly, there is a mathematical formula for when it’s OK to take the seat next to me. That formula is: never. And it is especially never if there are other open seats in the train. And it is unequivally never if there is an open *row* of seats elsewhere in the train. This has happened to me more than a few times: I’ll be in a mostly-empty train, and some random person will hop on and take the seat right next to me, even though there are seven empty rows of seats. And it’s not just subways! I’ve parked my car in the middle of an open lot with *at least* 15 spaces on either side in one direction, and three empty rows in the other, and some person will have still come park their car way too close to my driver-side door, and there are still 15 open spots, three open rows, etc. Why?? Cars don’t benefit from strength of numbers. They don’t keep each other warm, they don’t befriend each other. All you, sir or madam who likes to park close to other cars, have done is earn yourself a nice passenger-side dent. Enjoy. But I digress…
Another quirky habit: Last week, I boarded at Dupont Circle to head out to Grosvenor. That’s about a 15-20 minute ride. Two minutes in, I’m minding my own business, ocassionally checking out the other passengers for interesting quirks (yes, among other things…) when I notice a not-unattractive Asian woman sitting a few rows ahead of me, and facing the opposite direction. She’s combing her hair, using a small vanity mirror to check it out.
I head back to my book for a page or so, until the train arrives at the next station (National Zoo/Adams Morgan). Quite a few passengers board/deboard the train, so I’m bumped in the elbow, and I look up and around again. Hmm… the woman is combing her hair still. You know, I’m not really sure how long it takes, but that’s a long time. And her hair is pretty straight….
I go back to the book for another stop… and when I look up again, she’s *still* combing her hair. In fact, she’s re-combing portions of it I saw her comb before. The passenger sitting behind her (from my POV) looks as confused as I probably do: Has she stopped? Why did she start again? And so on. Realize that by now, I’m halfway to Grosvenor, I’ve been on the train 10 minutes, and I’m pretty sure she hasn’t stopped yet.
By now, of course, I can’t concentrate on my book, so I close it, just looking at Hair-Comb Girl, Confused-Woman-Behind-Hair-Comb-Girl, and a few other passengers. Also of note is Clearly-Upset-Stomach-Guy, who’s turning various shades of red intermittently whie grinding his teeth and holding his abdomen.
To make a long and crazy story short, I get to Grosvenor and the woman is *still* combing her hair. About half the train has realized this, but Comb-Girl is too entranced with herself (she also hasn’t put down the little vanity mirror) to notice other passengers awed by this performance.By the time I alight from the train, 20 minutes have passed and she’s recombed her hair about six or seven times. Note that she was on the train before me, and was on the train after me, so it’s entirely possible that this could have been going on for over 30, even 40 minutes.
This could be the OCD award winner for best performance, 2006.
Technorati Tags: Metro, Subway
July 24th, 2006 at 8:54 pm
I don’t think you get to complain too much about OCD, after your rant about people sitting / parking too close to you :-). Some of us don’t feel that other human beings should deliberatly stay as far away from each other as possible… Sometimes it’s nice to meet strangers
- c
July 24th, 2006 at 9:51 pm
Haha, point taken. I just like my space.
July 24th, 2006 at 11:02 pm
Maybe Clearly-Upset-Stomach-Guy has an aversion to combing?
July 28th, 2006 at 11:37 am
“Firstly, there is a mathematical formula for when it’s OK to take the seat next to me. That formula is: never. And it is especially never if there are other open seats in the train.”
Wow, you sound like such a nice person. What makes you so much better than everyone else that you feel that nobody can sit next to you? You’re on a public train, if people want a seat and the one next to you is open they are going to sit there. Go drive your car if you’re worried about someone sitting by you.
July 28th, 2006 at 1:05 pm
Hey, people got to be free. I respect that. I just think it’s crap when, if there are plenty of open seats, and plenty of open rows of seats (meaning this person wouldn’t have to sit next to anyone either), it’d be nice if they took those seats. Just a thought.
And faced with the prospect of sucking down some CO fumes while I’m stuck in traffic off of 16th looking for sub-$10 parking, Metro suits me just fine.
July 28th, 2006 at 2:39 pm
I agree that its creepy when people sit down when there are open rows. But just open seats, someone has to be sat next to… you’re no different than anyone else. People are going to sit by you. If you were a fatty and took up both seats you would solve this problem though.
August 8th, 2006 at 7:52 pm
[...] A woman on the Metro starts combing her hair and keeps combing, stop after stop after stop, oblivious to the increasing attention of her fellow passengers. A report by Philonoist: … About half the train has realized this, but Comb-Girl is too entranced with herself (she also hasn’t put down the little vanity mirror) to notice other passengers awed by this performance. Hailing a cab by staring at it. DC Cab Rider watches some out-of-towners at work. [...]
November 6th, 2008 at 1:21 am
agrees, but with this it can not be helped, it is in their blood