Metro Riders Share Their Favorite Subterranean Stories
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Everyone, it seems, has a story about the odd, funny, occasionally disturbing things they've witnessed on Metro. There must be something about riding the rails that brings out hilarious, loopy or simply clueless behavior in people.
Last month, we asked readers to share their most interesting experiences. And now that Metro has a new interim general manager, we think Dan Tangherlini (who took over the job Feb. 16) would like to know something about the transportation system he has inherited -- beyond overcrowding, cost overruns and delays. Of course, some of the stories we received we can't print in a family newspaper, but many we can. Here are our favorites:
BIZARRO
It was a scene right out of Johnny Knoxville's "Jackass." I got on the train at the Tenleytown Red Line stop. Two other individuals got on the train and proceeded to put on a show. At each stop, the two young males stepped off the train and beat each other up until the train was ready to go, and then they jumped back on. For six straight stops they continued and then finally got off the train for good.
-- Ryan Studner, Washington
PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT
A few years ago, I was riding on the Red Line during the morning rush. It was a dreary morning in mid-winter, and everyone on the train was -- as usual -- absorbed in their own thoughts, headphones, newspapers and paperbacks.
As the train neared the next station, the conductor came on the loudspeaker to announce the stop and remind passengers to not forget their personal belongings. The same announcement you hear day in and day out. He signed off with, "And have a nice day."
After a short pause, he came back on and, in a squeaky high-pitched voice, said, "You have a nice day too, Mr. Train Conductor!"
Everyone busted out laughing. Shaken out of their routine, they smiled at each other, they shook their heads in wonder. Then, with a rustle of newspaper and a few more chuckles, they settled back into their humdrum commute.
-- Kim Stryker, Falls Church
MAKEUP MAVEN
Are some people oblivious to the fact that they are in public while on the Metro? There is an attractive, well-dressed young woman who rides the Red Line each morning into the heart of D.C. and spends the half-hour grooming herself with the contents of a large cosmetic case on her lap. Out comes a lit magnifying mirror, and the show begins. First, on goes the foundation. Then powder and rouge. Sometimes before the lip gloss, a little flossing of the pearly whites. On Wednesdays -- before application of various eye shadows, eyeliner and mascara -- her eyebrows get plucked and the chin is examined for a stray hair or two.
Finally, flowing hair is teased and brushed and sprayed until perfected from all angles in the mirror.
I never ride in the evening with this vision of beauty out of a bottle. Can anyone tell me if she does reverse grooming while homeward bound, ending her ride with facial cleanser, night cream, curlers, all ready to don her eye mask for sleep?
-- Liesel McCurry, Derwood
FOREIGN AFFAIRS
What do single girls do on the Metro? Of course, we check guys out. Once, we were arriving at Dupont Circle, and I saw a guy waiting -- yes, he was a total hottie. I just couldn't take my eyes off him. He was tall and blond with a bit of European attitude. While I lost myself to that dazzling beauty, my friend woke me up by saying, "Stop." I asked her what she meant. As she didn't want him to know that we were talking about him, she said in Spanish, "Ese chico" ("That guy"). He was glancing at us.
"Mira, quizas habla español." ("Hey, he might speak Spanish.")
"No, no lo creo." ("I don't think so.")
"Quizas tenemos que hablar en francés?" ("Maybe we should talk in French?")
But then, my boy asked "Quien no parece hablar español?" ("Who does not seem to speak Spanish?") Obviously, he spoke Spanish and definitely knew that we were talking about him. Unfortunately, we had to get off at the next stop, but a lesson learned: Speak Spanish on the Metro, and who knows?
-- Soyen Park, Washington
READ ALL ABOUT IT
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
FIGARO, FIGARO!
I've been riding the Metro for way too many years. I've seen more than my fair share of amusing folks.
A gentleman boarded the train, in a cape and mask, during rush hour. It was not Halloween. He proceeded to break out into songs about his life, in opera form. I thought to myself, "Oh, lordy, nobody will ever believe this one." As I got up to leave the train, there sat my sister-in-law, laughing hysterically. She had witnessed the opera star as well.
-- Rachel Krushinski, Fairfax
BAGGAGE CHECK
One of the most hilarious incidents I witnessed involved a man and his suitcase. The voice had already announced "doors closing" when the man started running to get on. He wasn't fast enough, but his suitcase managed to make it inside safely before the doors closed completely.
-- Ye Wang, Washington
OM MY
On the Red Line, we have a female jogger who -- dressed in form-fitting spandex and "glistening" (i.e. sweating) -- boards the train, moves to the back and begins a series of provocative stretches and yoga poses. She then pulls out a carton of yogurt from her bag, laps it up like a cat, curls up in a rear seat and promptly falls asleep.
-- Rosemary Austin, Silver Spring
METRO BOY
My most surprising Metro moment was neither strange nor bizarre: It was where I met my partner of a year and a half. During the summer of 2004, I was living temporarily with some friends in the city while trying to find an affordable rental. My morning commute from Columbia Heights to College Park was always highlighted by the appearance of a quiet, yet beautiful, young gentleman quickly dubbed "Metro Boy."
He would often be on the subway car when the train pulled up each morning, and then we'd concurrently transfer to the University of Maryland shuttle bus. The thought of extending a greeting to an attractive stranger during the early morning commute seemed too bold for me. It would have been especially awkward saying hello after a few weeks passed. What was I to say: "Do you ride to College Park?" The statement would have been all too artificial given we shared space multiple days a week. What if he turned out to be obsessive? Not interested? Mute?
Rejection is difficult enough to take. Rejection faced routinely prior to my morning coffee . . . now that's something I could do without.
After a few weeks, I landed a rental and mentally said farewell to the romance that almost wasn't. My new commute differed slightly in that I was now leaving from the U Street/Cardozo stop. I'm still surprised I didn't drop my Washington Post Express in shock when, on the first day of my new commute, there on the platform stood Metro Boy. After a couple of self-inflicted kicks to my butt, I finally worked up the urge to say, in a manner completely lacking any wit or confidence, "I think we have the same commute." His response: "We do." A year and a half later, we have the same commute -- except now it's from our house in our car.
-- Joey DeSanto, Washington
THANKS FOR THE TIP
When I boarded Metro one afternoon, a woman about 35 was turned in her seat talking to an older man about three empty rows down from her. Across from the woman was a boy, about 18, wearing a Georgetown University sweat shirt. The older man and woman were talking about sex. As she gathered her luggage to leave the train, she jotted something down on a notepad. She folded it, and held it in her hand and stood by her seat as the train slowed on its approach into the station.
"Metro Center. Doors opening on the right."
"Listen," she said loudly, turning to face the man directly. "I know about these things. I helped compile research on men's and women's orgasms. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."
"Okay, okay, okay," the man said.
"Doors opening."
She walked toward the door to leave the train, casually handed the folded note to the startled boy and continued out the train door. He unfolded the note and read it. Refolding it, he looked straight ahead for a second or two before he bolted from his seat and ran out the door behind her.
"Doors closing."
-- Tom Smith, Silver Spring
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