One of my FAVORITE parts of the city was the Metro. I didn't own a car. I didn't need a car. I could take underground (and occasionally above-ground) trains just about everywhere and was fortunate enough to have a few friends with cars to help me cover the rest.
Sober, drunk, tired, rested, hungry, thirsty, bored, excited, alone, with friends, with family, with both. No matter where I was going, Metro was going my way (it is like Moon River only less swoony).
I used to know every stop of every line and the cross streets and the nearest attractions and even how many minutes (approximately) it would take to get from stop to stop or origin to destination - including transfer time.
Fast forward to Saturday morning when I was caught in the following:
- What in the actual f*ck is the silver line? And WHY are people still going to DULLES anyway?
- Purple line? C'bawwwn, suhn. If it doesn't go through downtown - it's not real.
- Fares for downtown - downtown trips are like $2.75 now . . . they used to be $1.10.
- They close some entrances/exits to stops on the weekend. This must be new, right?
- I didn't even remember where Farragut West was . . . and then I went to a closed entrance.
- I had to get verification on which stop was closest to the National Portrait Gallery. Which is IN Chinatown. Which apparently is now just called Gallery Place . . . as in PORTRAIT GALLERY.
- I could not remember which Smithsonian exit was on to the mall vs. The USDA.
- I called Union Station "the train station" when a tourist asked me for help finding a place.
- I let my niece stand on the left side of an escalator for like fifteen seconds. Everyone knows you walk on the left, stand on the right.
I have not lived here in almost a decade. I have only been on the Metro four times in that decade. But . . . still.