So, yesterday, the Orange Line derailed between Rosslyn and Court House, which should have made my commute home - normally a one stop affair - a living nightmare. But I don't know! It really sorta wasn't! I got to the Foggy Bottom station, there were two shuttles gearing up to cross the river, they had plenty of room, were tended by a trio of helpful WMATA employees, and they very swiftly got me where I was going. I'm aware that it wasn't this easy for many people. How did I become aware of this? Everybody was nonetheless bitching! That is to say: everyone boarding conveniently located shuttles to ferry them home was bitching. As in: NOT THE PEOPLE TRAPPED UNDERGROUND. Oy. Maybe here's why I ended up having a more or less good attitude about the experience:
- The derailment happened at about 2:45, and by waiting until six to come home, I had given WMATA adequate time to get a handle on the Derailopocalypse.
- Based upon most of the bitching I was hearing, the bulk of the "catching a shuttle" angst was occurring over at Farragut West. This makes a certain amount of sense, as there are more commuters. But seriously: haven't you dickshits heard of the 38B and 3Y buses?
- Most of the people who were cheesed off were the people commuting to Virginia Square, and really, I don't know if you've noticed, but those trifling little Virginia Square bitches complain about everything.
- In all fairness, I probably deserve better treatment from WMATA than most of you.
Like I said, I think it's fair to say that the people who had it toughest were the ones trapped underground on an ungodly hot day, waiting for whatever crazy rescue train to come and do its thing. I can't wait for the movie, Rescue Train!, or the made-for-teevee movie, Rescue Train: The Day A Small Part of the Area Under the Earth Stood Still, At Least For a Little While, Making for a Serious Inconvenience, Especially if You Were in a Hurry or Something.
Anyway, never forget I guess.