I blame the cold

I made two faux pas last night. Both of which I swore I’d never do.

After dining on some DC Mexican food-which was just as disappointing as all the other Mexican food I’ve tried in this city-I thought I’d outsmart the public transit system and take the $1 Circulator from Union Station to Glover Park instead of paying for the Metro to Foggy Bottom and then the bus to my ‘hood.

Post what I guess you could call margaritas and a burrito, my very nice friend Howell drove me out of her way to the station, where I anxiously waited for the bus in 30-ish degree weather. My new wool pants kept my legs warm, but the cute short-sleeves top and lightweight, three-quarter sleeve sweater that tied the ensemble together, weren’t so warm. In Texas we sacrifice warmth for looking cute, but apparently things aren’t the same up here. I was smart enough to bring a coat I’ve outgrown, but the inch or so of space, from where the coat sleeves fall and my wrists start, was quickly going numb. As were my feet. My tootsies were red and loosing feeling so I didn’t realize they were all jammed inside the toe box of my high heels.

After seeing three Circulators drive by in the opposite direction, and none of them coming in my direction, and a good 30 minutes in the cold, I decided to shamefully walk to the Red Line stop in Union Station. I really thought my plan was foolproof. It was quite the effort…The tingly feeling in my feet made it hard to walk.    

The heated rail car felt amazing. I wished I had my Uggswith me to defrost my poor toes, but I didn’t think to put them in my purse when I left for work at 8 a.m. Oh how I longed for warm shoes. I must have had a partial brain freeze while waiting for the bus that never came, because I completely forgot I was toting around my workout clothes. I planned on hitting up the elliptical machine and stationary bike, before an impromptu dinner was planned, after work. With nowhere to stash my 99 cent, Safeway’s finest, Susan G. Komen “Support the Cause” reusable grocery bag turned gym bag-by the way, thanks DeVito for letting me use it-it accompanied my on my night out.

And luckily there were socks and running shoes in my bag! I was, once again, “that girl” on the Metro and took my heels off to trade them for socks and tennies–faux pas number one. I swore I’d never be the girl I make fun of who wears tennis shoes with her work clothes for the commute to the office, then changes into work appropriate shoes upon arrival. MC and I loathed this girl we interned with over the summer for many reasons, but specifically because she wore a suit, panty hose, socks AND tennis shoes to work. Really, who does that? Panty hose AND socks? And tennis shoes with a suit? I was wearing super cute pants yesterday, so socks and shoes were less noticeable.

Anyway, when I was quickly rummaging through my “gym bag” to get my shoes, which were at the bottom, I made a mess. Somehow my socks, sports bra and running tights all came out of my bag when I tried to pull my shoes out. So there I was, without shoes on, trying to pick up my clothes while the rail car came to a screeching halt. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to walk up the train while its coming to a stop, but the gravitational pull can be pretty strong. Trying to bend down to pick up clothes, while gravity pulls you in all sorts of directions, is an entirely different experience.

After I collected my belongings and exited the train I re-entered winter at Dupont Circle. My tennis shoes with work clothes ensemble was about to make its debut and I hoped I didn’t see anyone I knew.

Work clothes and running shoes

The great thing about the ground-level Metro station in Dupont Circle is that it’s bowl shaped. So, when I’m waiting for the bus late at night or in this case, trying to stay warm, I can walk in circles. Over and over and over and over until the bus arrives. Walking in circles has kept me awake many late nights on the weekend, which in turn has kept me from missing several D2s.

The bus must have gotten lost or something because it was 15 minutes late to the stop, which meant I had to wait in the cold than I expected. I could feel my toes going numb again and that tingly feeling was back. I could only imagine how much worse it would have been had I still been wearing heels. As the clock pushed 11 p.m., remind you this journey home had taken nearly two hours, I turned tired and grumpy and I cursed the bus–faux pas number two. I love the bus and never thought I’d live to the day where I wished anything bad upon it or said anything bad about it.

The Cicrulator was a tease and the D2 a disappointment, and I cracked.

Snoozing equals losing

I’ve never really felt for narcoleptics until recently. Last night to be exact.

After a Wednesday night show at the 9:30 Club, I began my voyage home. Robert Earl Keen tunes still echoed in my head, and I now, more than ever, miss Texas. It didn’t help that the concert venue smelled like home made biscuits-the kind my mom used to make. I’m not sure why this familiar scent was present last night, but my guess is REK wanted to give the DC club at Texas vibe.

I didn’t realize how late it had gotten by the time the concert ended, we finished our brews and Cari and I got REK’s autograph-that’s right!-but apparently it was borderline Wednesday night/Thursday morn’. All the while walking to the metro I contemplated which combinations of public transit I was going to take home.

My options included:

-Take the green/yellow line a couple stops to Gallery Pl-Chinatown then hop on the Circulator to Glover Park

-Take the green/yellow line to Gallery Pl-Chinatown, transfer to the Red Line and get off at Farragut North, then catch either the Circulator or 30s bus to GP

As the train approached the platform I realized it was the last one of the night. I wasn’t sure what that meant for my connection, specifically would I make the last Red Line train, but I decided I’d chance it. Luckily, I made the connection, but my luck quickly changed. I guess just to be sure everyone makes the last train and nobody gets left inside the train station, the trains park for a while at the platforms. Between the heated train at a complete stand still, my sleepiness, the brews we threw back before, during and after the show, and the Texas-shaped hole in my heart, I sort of fell asleep. Except, not sort of, I did.

So all the planning and figuring out how I was going to go home was no longer helpful when I woke up at the Woodley Park metro station. Fortunately, though, I’m familiar with the area from summer shenanigans. The only problem was there were no more trains to take me back to where I came from, so I had to walk to Dupont Circle to catch the D2 bus, which I was praying was still running.

I made it to the stop just as the next to last bus was driving off. The final bus as it turned out, didn’t come for another 20 minutes. So, naturally, I called EA-the best listener in the world-and we reminisced about our little blue house and determined a future roommate sitch is definitely in order. When the final bus came, I boarded and was on my way home. EA demanded we hang up and I talk to the boy on the bus with the same “9:30” hand stamp as me, because she wanted something interesting to happen so I could blog about it. I complied, but the excessively hot bus put me to sleep before I could holler at him. I think by this time it was around 12:45 a.m. so I didn’t feel so lame falling asleep, twice.

I was wearing these new pants my mom bought me, essentially because I wanted to wear my cowgirl boots to the concert, which meant I had to wear them to work because there was no time to go home and change, and if I wore the dressy pants I could get away with wearing the boots to work and still look professional. The only thing is that the pants are slick and so are the leather seats on the bus. So when the bus turned the sharp corner onto my street (but I didn’t know it was my street because I was asleep) I sort of slided off the seat, thus waking up just in time to get off the bus and go home.

I’m so fortunate that between the laws of gravity and some other freak chances, I made it home in one piece. But this makes me wonder about narcoleptics and what happens if they fall asleep on the metro and miss their stop? Hopefully they’re not punctual people to begin with so others don’t think much of it when they’re late for dates.