I once heard a funny story.
I can’t guarantee it happened in DC…or that it happened at all, actually…but I like the story enough that I don’t really care if it’s true or not.
Once upon a time, during the evening weekday rush, a metro car full of weary DCers was making its way along the blue line, moving deeper and deeper out into the Virginia suburbs . Although the crowd thinned with every stop, it was still a packed car with some riders unhappily forced to stand. Despite the large number of people, the car was, in true metro fashion, silent. Some passengers napped, some read the newspaper or books, others played games on their cell phones….anything to occupy the time without interacting with other people.
As the train pulled to a halt at one of the above ground stops and a group of riders methodically stepped off and headed home, nobody noticed the small passenger who stepped on board.
Well, nobody noticed until the train started moving and…...
MASS CHAOS ERUPTED
Women yelled
Men screamed
Some passengers jumped on the seats
Some passengers tried to scurry up the poles
Some passengers even tried to climb on top of other passengers
All of this craziness, as a small squirrel tore up and down the aisle of the car at an alarming speed, running under people’s feet, brushing people’s legs, running over seats, moving like a tornado without a predictable path and causing 2-3 minutes of complete commotion…
until the next stop, when the doors opened and the little metro rider ran out onto the platform and, presumably, home for dinner (an enviable 1 stop commute).
Silently, the passengers took only a second to collect themselves. People stepped down off of the seats and picked up their books, slid down the poles and grabbed their bags and briefcases, politely whispered “sorry, excuse me” to the people they had been standing on top of and glanced quickly back at their blackberries to see if they had missed any important texts or emails.
By the time the doors closed and the train started moving towards the next stop, everything was silent once again.
You see, here in DC, we like our metro quiet. We like it calm. We like it impersonal.
We don’t want to interact with other people (or even other animals as the case may be) and we try, if possible, to acknowledge each other as little as possible.
It’s not because we are mean or cold-hearted or even grumpy – we just like to keep our public transportation experience, well, private.
As a result, the DC metro system is a lot of things (clean, mostly reliable, efficient) but one thing it is not (and, quite frankly, would never claim to be) is overly friendly.
The following is a not-as-funny story.
I guarantee it’s true….I was there.
It was roughly 8:30 pm on a Monday night and everyone on the station platform looked as though they had just experienced the longest, hardest day of their entire life (at least one person in the group may have actually had the hardest day of his or her life, but most of us have just worked hard at perfecting the look) and wanted, more than anything, to be home.
We were gathered at the Metro Center Station, which is a connector station for three lines. This means that there are often lots of people waiting to get on trains. On the flip side, because it is a connector station, lots of people often get off of the arriving train. This creates a little game as a person standing on the platform can expect a fair number of seats to be available but can also expect to have a lot of competition for those available seats.
As the train arrives and people start stepping off, anticipation mounts and tension builds amongst those waiting to board. Of course, everyone really wants to plow through the crowd, knocking over anyone in their path (including the people coming off the train)…but that would be rude. Instead, we all stand off the side, watching passengers exit the train, trying hard to appear cool, calm and collected while, in actuality, mapping the best route to the perfect seat and secretly wishing that everyone standing in our way would accidentally trip and fall (not enough of a fall to hurt themselves….of course not...just enough of a fall to, you know, slow them down).
It’s a hundred little internal battles of good and evil occurring with the arrival of each train – and nobody is immune.
I might take this moment to explain that my entire trip involves 4 stops (approximately 10 minutes) which is not a long ride. I spend a good deal of my life running long distances and am in good enough shape to stand for 10 minutes. That’s not the point. It’s a game. I wanted a seat and, at that moment, believed that I deserved one just as much (if not more) than everyone else waiting. See, that’s what waiting for the metro does to a person – it becomes personal.
On this particular night, I was in the middle of the pack, meaning that I was on the cusp of sitting or standing. There wasn’t much I could do (within the boundaries of being polite) to make it happen. It was up to fate.
After the doors had opened and everyone had filed off the train, the process of boarding began. I watched helplessly as seats were claimed one-by-one.
The entire time, I had my eyes focused on one empty seat …which was empty…empty…empty…until, you guessed it, the man walking right in front of me plopped down with a smile.
I fully appreciate the women’s rights movement. I like having a job, making my own money and voting, but on the metro, at the end of the long day, I wouldn’t mind being given a seat just for the simple fact that I am a girl. I’m not above playing that card.
Apparently the man in “my” seat was more of a dedicated feminist than I as he took “my” seat without a moment’s hesitation.
The train pulled away and I stared with annoyance at the back of the head of the man in “my” seat (which is passive aggressive and pretty much pointless - I realize this - but for some reason it always makes me feel better), when the man sitting next to him suddenly drew my (and everyone else’s) attention. As the train rumbled forward the perfect silence of people reading their books and playing their games was broken abruptly as the man stood up and posed the question,
“Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?”
Ok, it was kind of funny. There was some muffled laughter as three or four people even responded with “But of course”.
An amusing little metro moment and, as soon as it was over, we all went back to our articles, books and silence.
Approximately 15 seconds later, the same man, still standing, again asked “PARDON ME, would you have any Grey Poupon?”
Fewer people looked up this time but one or two people still answered “But of course”, and couple of people laughed again (this time a nervous, “ok, please, please don’t ask again” kind of laugh).
Clearly unhappy with the dwindling response, he asked for a third time (louder) “Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?”. The metro car had now had enough of his little game - we (as a collective unit) were done. All eyes were focused hard on the closest book, newspaper or phone and any lost souls without passable reading material, looked out the car windows (not a believable diversion as the trains are underground and the “view” consists of a very dark wall). The only person who could not avoid our questioner’s gaze, the one person who had no choice but to answer, was the person sitting right next to him….in “my” seat.
“But, of course” he muttered less than enthusiastically, staring at the ground.
I will admit to an ounce of satisfaction – that will teach him to take a seat from girl.
The next four stops were an uncomfortable and annoying repetition of that initial 1 ½ minutes. At each stop a few new riders would board, bringing new life to the joke until about a minute into the ride after they had heard it 3 or 4 times and the only person responding was the man in my seat (who, by now, was answering with a change in intonation making it more of a sad sounding question “But, of course?” as in, “What do you want me to say???”)
At one point, the gentleman explained loudly to his seat-mate (and anyone else who could hear him) that he was simply trying to “foster community” and “bring people together” in a city where everyone was “closed off” and “unfriendly”. I did appreciate his point…but his approach didn’t seem to be working.
Although, then again, with the arrival of my stop and my walk towards the exit, I started to notice things.
As I walked by the man sitting in my seat, my former enemy, I smiled sympathetically…yes, he had taken “my” seat, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Normally, as I exit the train I stare at the floor and walk as fast as possible to the escalators, but this time I enjoyed the walk (and my freedom), sharing a number of relieved glances with my fellow riders getting off. One of the women muttered “I thought this stop would never get here!” and we all laughed together, and even talked a little bit as we walked to the exit, which has never happened to me before in the metro.
So, there you have it, I guess that “fostering community” can take different forms – including mass annoyance via mustard commercials from the 1980s.
“Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?”
I can’t guarantee it happened in DC…or that it happened at all, actually…but I like the story enough that I don’t really care if it’s true or not.
Once upon a time, during the evening weekday rush, a metro car full of weary DCers was making its way along the blue line, moving deeper and deeper out into the Virginia suburbs . Although the crowd thinned with every stop, it was still a packed car with some riders unhappily forced to stand. Despite the large number of people, the car was, in true metro fashion, silent. Some passengers napped, some read the newspaper or books, others played games on their cell phones….anything to occupy the time without interacting with other people.
As the train pulled to a halt at one of the above ground stops and a group of riders methodically stepped off and headed home, nobody noticed the small passenger who stepped on board.
Well, nobody noticed until the train started moving and…...
MASS CHAOS ERUPTED
Women yelled
Men screamed
Some passengers jumped on the seats
Some passengers tried to scurry up the poles
Some passengers even tried to climb on top of other passengers
All of this craziness, as a small squirrel tore up and down the aisle of the car at an alarming speed, running under people’s feet, brushing people’s legs, running over seats, moving like a tornado without a predictable path and causing 2-3 minutes of complete commotion…
until the next stop, when the doors opened and the little metro rider ran out onto the platform and, presumably, home for dinner (an enviable 1 stop commute).
Silently, the passengers took only a second to collect themselves. People stepped down off of the seats and picked up their books, slid down the poles and grabbed their bags and briefcases, politely whispered “sorry, excuse me” to the people they had been standing on top of and glanced quickly back at their blackberries to see if they had missed any important texts or emails.
By the time the doors closed and the train started moving towards the next stop, everything was silent once again.
You see, here in DC, we like our metro quiet. We like it calm. We like it impersonal.
We don’t want to interact with other people (or even other animals as the case may be) and we try, if possible, to acknowledge each other as little as possible.
It’s not because we are mean or cold-hearted or even grumpy – we just like to keep our public transportation experience, well, private.
As a result, the DC metro system is a lot of things (clean, mostly reliable, efficient) but one thing it is not (and, quite frankly, would never claim to be) is overly friendly.
The following is a not-as-funny story.
I guarantee it’s true….I was there.
It was roughly 8:30 pm on a Monday night and everyone on the station platform looked as though they had just experienced the longest, hardest day of their entire life (at least one person in the group may have actually had the hardest day of his or her life, but most of us have just worked hard at perfecting the look) and wanted, more than anything, to be home.
We were gathered at the Metro Center Station, which is a connector station for three lines. This means that there are often lots of people waiting to get on trains. On the flip side, because it is a connector station, lots of people often get off of the arriving train. This creates a little game as a person standing on the platform can expect a fair number of seats to be available but can also expect to have a lot of competition for those available seats.
As the train arrives and people start stepping off, anticipation mounts and tension builds amongst those waiting to board. Of course, everyone really wants to plow through the crowd, knocking over anyone in their path (including the people coming off the train)…but that would be rude. Instead, we all stand off the side, watching passengers exit the train, trying hard to appear cool, calm and collected while, in actuality, mapping the best route to the perfect seat and secretly wishing that everyone standing in our way would accidentally trip and fall (not enough of a fall to hurt themselves….of course not...just enough of a fall to, you know, slow them down).
It’s a hundred little internal battles of good and evil occurring with the arrival of each train – and nobody is immune.
I might take this moment to explain that my entire trip involves 4 stops (approximately 10 minutes) which is not a long ride. I spend a good deal of my life running long distances and am in good enough shape to stand for 10 minutes. That’s not the point. It’s a game. I wanted a seat and, at that moment, believed that I deserved one just as much (if not more) than everyone else waiting. See, that’s what waiting for the metro does to a person – it becomes personal.
On this particular night, I was in the middle of the pack, meaning that I was on the cusp of sitting or standing. There wasn’t much I could do (within the boundaries of being polite) to make it happen. It was up to fate.
After the doors had opened and everyone had filed off the train, the process of boarding began. I watched helplessly as seats were claimed one-by-one.
The entire time, I had my eyes focused on one empty seat …which was empty…empty…empty…until, you guessed it, the man walking right in front of me plopped down with a smile.
I fully appreciate the women’s rights movement. I like having a job, making my own money and voting, but on the metro, at the end of the long day, I wouldn’t mind being given a seat just for the simple fact that I am a girl. I’m not above playing that card.
Apparently the man in “my” seat was more of a dedicated feminist than I as he took “my” seat without a moment’s hesitation.
The train pulled away and I stared with annoyance at the back of the head of the man in “my” seat (which is passive aggressive and pretty much pointless - I realize this - but for some reason it always makes me feel better), when the man sitting next to him suddenly drew my (and everyone else’s) attention. As the train rumbled forward the perfect silence of people reading their books and playing their games was broken abruptly as the man stood up and posed the question,
“Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?”
Ok, it was kind of funny. There was some muffled laughter as three or four people even responded with “But of course”.
An amusing little metro moment and, as soon as it was over, we all went back to our articles, books and silence.
Approximately 15 seconds later, the same man, still standing, again asked “PARDON ME, would you have any Grey Poupon?”
Fewer people looked up this time but one or two people still answered “But of course”, and couple of people laughed again (this time a nervous, “ok, please, please don’t ask again” kind of laugh).
Clearly unhappy with the dwindling response, he asked for a third time (louder) “Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?”. The metro car had now had enough of his little game - we (as a collective unit) were done. All eyes were focused hard on the closest book, newspaper or phone and any lost souls without passable reading material, looked out the car windows (not a believable diversion as the trains are underground and the “view” consists of a very dark wall). The only person who could not avoid our questioner’s gaze, the one person who had no choice but to answer, was the person sitting right next to him….in “my” seat.
“But, of course” he muttered less than enthusiastically, staring at the ground.
I will admit to an ounce of satisfaction – that will teach him to take a seat from girl.
The next four stops were an uncomfortable and annoying repetition of that initial 1 ½ minutes. At each stop a few new riders would board, bringing new life to the joke until about a minute into the ride after they had heard it 3 or 4 times and the only person responding was the man in my seat (who, by now, was answering with a change in intonation making it more of a sad sounding question “But, of course?” as in, “What do you want me to say???”)
At one point, the gentleman explained loudly to his seat-mate (and anyone else who could hear him) that he was simply trying to “foster community” and “bring people together” in a city where everyone was “closed off” and “unfriendly”. I did appreciate his point…but his approach didn’t seem to be working.
Although, then again, with the arrival of my stop and my walk towards the exit, I started to notice things.
As I walked by the man sitting in my seat, my former enemy, I smiled sympathetically…yes, he had taken “my” seat, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore.
Normally, as I exit the train I stare at the floor and walk as fast as possible to the escalators, but this time I enjoyed the walk (and my freedom), sharing a number of relieved glances with my fellow riders getting off. One of the women muttered “I thought this stop would never get here!” and we all laughed together, and even talked a little bit as we walked to the exit, which has never happened to me before in the metro.
So, there you have it, I guess that “fostering community” can take different forms – including mass annoyance via mustard commercials from the 1980s.
“Pardon me, would you have any Grey Poupon?”
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