Excuse Me, Is That Your Blog?

Well, it's official. I'm no longer a DC resident. That certainly doesn't mean I have to stop bitching, though. In fact, now that I live in Ballston, I'll have even more to bitch about (in a thinly veiled attempt to mask the fact that I'm rapidly becoming everything I hate). I'll skip all the usual "OMG NoVa IS FOR DOUCHEBAGS" stuff -- not that it's not mostly true -- and get right to the point. Rosslyn Metro station is perhaps the worst place on earth. And I say that as a person who has lived Uzbekistan (no offense to my Uzbeks bros). All that is unholy emanates from the subterranean dungeon that is Rosslyn. If I have to transfer trains here every morning and afternoon for the rest of my days in DC, then the chances of me killing someone are higher than the chances of Bristol Palin's marriage ending quickly and painfully (oh sorry, is Bristol still off limits?). And murder is only the second most likely scenario, the first being me committing seppuku.

Why? Rosslyn station never has more than one working escalator at any given time. Fools are tripping all over themselves running both ways. Once you manage to get to your transfer platform without getting trampled, then comes the arduous task of actually getting on the train. Most of the time, trains are spaced just far enough apart that every car will be packed to the brim with a sweaty, smelly clusterfuck of bodies. You will never get more than two inches of personal space. There is no air on any of the cars, either -- you'll breath only the stale exhalations of other passengers. Cars will be heated during the summer and air conditioned during the winter.

And the act of boarding the train is truly a test of one's mettle. It's where people really show what they're made of. There are two types of people at Rosslyn: the Douche Corridor (Courthouse/Clarendon/Va. Square/Ballston) folks who OMG HAVE TO GET ON THE TRAIN ASAP SO THEY CAN GET TO THE GYM EARLY ENOUGH TO FINISH CARDIO AND THEIR YOGA CLASS IN TIME TO START GETTING WASTED BY 7, and then there's the Pentagon Patriarchs whose TIME IS MUCH MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOURS and who have been SHOVING PUNKS LIKE YOU TO GET ON THE METRO FOR 30 YEARS. Either group is just as likely to spout catty, passive-aggressive shit at you if you deter their mission to board THIS FUCKING ORANGE LINE TRAIN RIGHT FUCKING NOW. Anyone who's ever tried to transfer at Rosslyn during rush hour knows exactly what I'm talking about. Unless you're one of those people, in which case you're fucking clueless.

I rode the Metro for the first week I was out here, and then I realized it was better for my health and the health of those around me if I never see that station again between the hour of 7:30-9:30am and 4:30-6:30pm. Fuck that shit. I'm taking the bus from now on. How else am I supposed to get to the gym before those Rosslyn suckers show up and take all the ellipticals?




Now that I have that off my chest, a few random notes:

1. Thanks again to The Sober Pundit for her witty and insightful political commentary and for holding down the fort while I was sans cable and internets.
2. Keep an eye out for a site revamp. We're hoping to make some pretty substantial changes to the layout soon, and we think you'll like it.
3. Buy the new Metallica album. Shameless plug, I know, but seriously... If you've ever liked any of their stuff, you owe yourself a trip to the record shop to pick up Death Magnetic. And if you don't like them, that's fine -- to each his own, but I don't want to hear it.