commuters crack me up

A friend reminded me a few days ago it's been forever since I've written. Things have been busy - I graduated, went on vacation for a bit, started a new job, moved to a new house, and more, but (thankfully) it's starting to settle down again.

And I'm starting to get into a routine. As you might guess, that new job I mentioned entails a new commute. It seemed like a hellish change at first - my previous commute was all of a six minute walk. Counting elevator time and waiting at stoplights, I would leave my apartment at exactly 8:52am to get to work by 9. These days, not only do I have to be in by 8:30, but I have to leave my place nearly an hour earlier to get there on time. There’s a half-hour metro ride on the dreaded red line (wmata.com says it’s 20 minutes, but we all know better), and from there, a 20-minute walk to my building. Notice I say it seemed hellish at first. Now, strangely enough, I’m starting to like it, and the route itself is becoming autopilot. I’m actually able to take time to smell the roses, as they say. Or in this case, watch my fellow commuters (and unfortunately, smell some of them, too. Not quite so rosy. Please guys, when it’s 99 degrees outside, either shower or don’t sit next to me).

Which brings me to today. I thought it was just an ordinary Tuesday morning as I slipped on my iPod, started blasting the Taylor Swift, and began walking in time to it, feeling like the main character in a dance movie montage (c’mon, you know you do it too). But the characters I encountered, and the fact that I actually paid attention to them, made it just a little less ordinary. It all started with my decision to act like a Rockville local – when in fact I basically know nothing but the route to and from my office, and from my office to Panera – and take the shortcut path behind the hedge that cuts approximately two seconds off my travel time. As it happened, this decision probably added five seconds today as I nearly got bowled over by the guy running to the metro.

I should explain something here. I don’t know why, but the sight of adults in business clothes running always makes me laugh. Particularly when they’re carrying a briefcase, when there’s no apparent deadline (today’s guy was nowhere near the signs saying when the next train was), when they’re not doing that cutesy/annoying skipping thing that women in heels do, but full-on sprinting. This guy fit all three of those. But I have to give him credit – my sudden appearance in his direct path did not faze the guy one bit.

Little did I know this would not be my first near-collision of the day. It seemed today was a big day for Rockville-ans to take the metro (don’t you all have cars?) and they were all so eager to get into the spirit that they started obeying the metro escalator rules a whole block before the station. To be specific, they were walking on the left side of the sidewalk like it was their job. Correct me if I’m wrong, but since we drive on the right side of the road, we walk on the right side of the sidewalk, right? The result of all this was multiple surprised looks at me as I jumped onto the grass to avoid being hit. I know you’re excited, guys, but you’re not on the escalator yet!

Anyway, I made it past that obstacle course and it seemed like my fellow pedestrians had calmed down. But it was a morning of misconceptions. I’d just turned off of Rockville Pike when I encountered part two of running men in business clothes. Like most sequels, this guy totally outdid his predecessor. Not only did he have the bag and no obvious deadline, he was wearing a suit (a suit!) and running across the middle of Old Georgetown Road. As anyone who’s ever walked with me knows, I have nothing against jaywalking. In fact, I embrace it; it’s my little way of rebelling. But across a four-lane road during rush hour? That takes guts.

After making sure my suited friend survived his little sprint, I continued down Old Georgetown when I had my first run-in with a driver. It was bound to happen; unlike DC, this area is ruled by cars. Which the driver I was about to cross in front of (at the cross walk – I know where I can and can’t jaywalk) was well aware of and clearly wanted to make sure I knew, too. She was a mild-mannered motherly type emerging out of a shopping center parking lot, so I thought I was safe. Not so. I take one step off the sidewalk and she whips her head around, looks at me deer-in-headlights style, steps on the accelerator, and zooms off in front of me. You think I’m exaggerating? I wish I was.

I continued along my usual path, which for the next several minutes was pretty uneventful, until I hit Executive Boulevard. Like a Silicon Valley office park (seriously, it’s like I’m back in California everytime I go to work), this street has driveways leading to each building complex about every hundred feet. Thanks to crosswalks and the somewhat bewildering fact that hardly anyone seems to actually turn into these driveways, it’s generally pretty safe. Although, like California, you have your usual set of people who don’t signal when they turn, what makes things a little more suspenseful in this part of town is that rare breed of people who do the opposite: they signal but don’t turn.

Fairly harmless other than sometimes making me wait unnecessarily, these people fascinate me. I just can’t figure out the motivation. I’ve gone through several possibilities. Maybe it’s left over from a curvy road or an earlier turn, but that doesn’t really apply when the road is stick-straight and has been for quite some time. Maybe they hit it accidentally during a rousing session of driver’s-seat aerobics, but wouldn’t you notice the sudden clicking, or I don’t know, the fact that your hand hit something? Maybe they’re just overachievers, all prepared five hundred feet before the actual turn. That one’s a possibility, I suppose. Unlike the ones who don’t signal at all, these guys definitely aren’t lazy; they’re actively doing something they don’t need to do and gain no benefit from doing. Maybe it’s like my jaywalking, just their little way of doing something they’re not supposed to do before beginning a long day at work. After all, drivers need to rebel once in a while, too, don’t they?