Notes from Underground

The most bizarre occurrence I have witnessed was while riding the Orange Line with my husband and three children to George Bush's first inaugural parade. A corpulent woman with wild hair, dressed in only a threadbare mumu and with plastic bags on her feet, was standing by the first seat. Clearly, she was either homeless or wandered out of a halfway house. The passenger slowly and deliberately engaged in a bathing ritual with a newspaper. Using the many sections, she "washed" her entire body. She was mindful not to miss under her arms or behind her ears. This routine even included a shampoo. Not wanting to stare, but not being able to turn away, we watched with astonishment. As she got off, she carefully folded the newspaper and walked out into the freezing January rain. It was painful and sad, but then a very ironic thing happened. A refined and rather rigid gentleman, perfectly pressed and extremely well-groomed, boarded the Metro and began reading the "washcloth!"

-- Theresa Sherman, Fairfax Station

TWEET, TWEET

A man suddenly boarded a train with his parakeet -- in a huge bird cage, with a towel or small blanket over it. He then proceeded to chitchat with his bird, asking him how he was enjoying the subway ride, telling him not to worry, we'll be there soon, reassuring him he'd get some extra treats later! They rode for at least five or six stops. I've always wondered if the bird has a fare card?

-- Karen Dunham, Germantown

UGH, BRACE YOURSELF

Here is my subway story, grossly bizarre: A somewhat shabby older man, seated just ahead of me across the aisle, took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, pulled one out, put all of it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. As I watched, he methodically proceeded to consume every cigarette in the pack. This done, he opened the newspaper he'd been holding on his lap and carefully shaped it into a cone. Then he calmly and quietly threw up into his cone and made a little parcel of it. At the next stop, he shuffled off, carrying his parcel.

-- Nancy Carmichael, Washington

SUPREME DATE

Entering the Yellow Line at the Crystal City station mid-morning on a summer day was a small lady who sat alone on the bench near the door. She wore a beige sleeveless dress with a scoop neck, gold chains and a chain belt. Black lingerie straps were visible. She announced to no one in particular that she was going to Capitol Hill to have lunch with Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor.

When the train moved onto the bridge crossing the Potomac, she stood, unfastened the belt and set it aside, flipped the chains over her shoulder, unzipped the dress, and began to remove it. The dumbstruck passengers watched in horror. Coming into view was a black cotton or linen shift. When the first dress was down to her knees, appliques around the hem of the second garment declared it another dress, not lingerie. She replaced the belt, adjusted the chains, folded the beige dress and placed it in her bulging carryall. Properly garbed for her luncheon engagement, she busied herself with some paperwork and was thus occupied when I left the train.

-- Aubrey Nye Hamilton, Vienna