Need a Nap Before Your Flight out of DC?

I travel a lot. These days it seems like I am always running from one destination to the other, trying to make a flight, train, or catch a cab. What is it about this city that seems to run at the breakneck speed of New York City, only without the efficiency. Today, I decided rather than take the usual high priced cab option to the airport, I would try out the Washington Flyer service. I got up this morning, did some work from my home office, logged on to check the schedule and decided that I would take my time in the afternoon commute to Dulles. I left my place to catch the metro at about 1230. I transferred easily at Metro Center. Sure, the metro ran a little slow today, but the midday crowd is not bad so I remained relaxed and patient. It seemed like the only people on the metro bound for West Falls Church were travelers. I was hoping this wasn't going to be an indication of the passenger traffic.

When I got to West Falls Church, I saw the signs for the Washington Flyer. IT was very easy to just wait outside the metro station while the big gray coach pulled up and a nice gentlemen loaded our baggage. I remember reading it was about a 15 minute trip to Dulles from the metro. Once seated I put my head back, closed my eyes and drifted off to dream.

When I woke up about 20 mins later, I was surprised at how well I rested. I felt totally refreshed. Something about the quiet hum of the bus traveling on the highway, it put me right to sleep. Now, I sit here rather refreshed and perky before attempting to join the security line here at Dulles. As far as ways to get to the airport, I recommend the Washington Flyer if you have the time. Forget running to catch cabs or asking your friend to drop you off. Give yourself a few hours and enjoy a nice midday commute to Dulles on this coach. If for no other reason, to give yourself 20 mins for a little shut eye.

Well, here I go...I am preparing to be swallowed by the security line and board those ridiculous space mobile people movers to get to my gate. Wish me luck. Blog you on the other side, somewhere where not too far away from the happiest place on earth.

Let It Snow!

The first snowfall of the year is upon us here in the Nation's Capital. Yes, I got to go home early today. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining, but I find it a little ridiculous that half of my office had to leave to get home to the suburbs before "it gets worse.".

I find all this snow talk rather humorous. Every year this city goes through the same drill and freaks out when the winter weather rolls in. This year, the discussions started on the weekend. All that coverage of the midwest snow storms and how they were "coming our way." I guess that Boston got slammed and we just missed it. I did see a few flakes while watching the Patriots/Ravens game the other night. What was that all about? The Ravens need to tame some of their players and the short tempers. But, this blog is not about sports, so I should not digress.

So it is snowing and I am sitting comfortably on my couch having coffee and watching the History Channel. No, I am not scrambling to get milk, or bread or even salt for that matter. This yearly snow panic that comes over the city just makes me scratch my head. I lived in New England for years, and even lived in Europe, near the Alps...they never shut down due to snow. I mean if a post-communist, former Soviet Bloc country can clear their roads without fail then why do we have such a hard time doing it in the Capital of the "most powerful country in the world?"

I understand the danger aspect of everyone's commute. I think the danger comes from the fact that our terrible drivers in the metropolitan area become insane drivers when it snows. I am glad that I don't have to face those dangers on the road. My biggest fear is slipping on the metro platform tiles while in my snow covered Bostonians. No, I don't wear boots. I know it is silly, but I think they look ridiculous while wearing a suit. So, I would much rather risk frostbite and look presentable than run into a client or colleague in Lands End Boots and my Armani suit pants scrunched up on top of them. It just screams bureaucrat.

So my commute home wasn't that bad. I took both bus and metro, neither of which seemed to have a problem with the snow. Granted, I am a little cold and wet when I finally get home, but it is nothing a cup of joe and a hot shower can't fix. Now, we just wait for the news reports and the school closures to start - the official sign that winter has come to Washington.

What Do You Think of the Usual DC Delays?

As I mention many times in my blog, I am a public transportation junkie. I would sooner take two buses and transfer twice on the metro than drive to and from work. Sure, it takes more time, but I would rather spend my time relaxing on public transportation than sitting in traffic stressing and riding the brakes.

Yesterday was a first for me. I drove to work. I had a series of errands I had to run that required my vehicle. The usual - dry cleaning, picking up gifts, and of course getting the car fixed. I thought I was being so efficient by arranging it so I could do it all right near work - Crystal City. Being a district resident, I know all too well that I cannot find oil changing places or even cheap dry cleaners in the city, so it seemed smart to outsource to the suburbs of Virginia.

Well, what I saved in money, I paid for in frustration. After running all my errands, I quickly dashed out on to Jefferson Davis Highway, prepared to zip up to Memorial Bridge, over the Potomac and through the city to hit Rock Creek Pkwy. It was a beautiful day for a drive and I was feeling lucky. Just as I rounded that first bend after the on ramp (you know the one right past where you have one last option to get on 395 north into the city), I came to a screeching halt. I mean HALT, like the German command for STOP NOW! I thought for a second...could this be right? Was there really this much traffic daily on 110?

About 10 mins passed and I noticed something strange. The opposite side of of 110 was completely empty. I mean no traffic. None. It looked like the day I ran the Army 10 miler. No cars on the road whatsoever. I said out loud, as if someone was listening..."This is not good." It had to be an accident, I thought. A really bad accident. I turned my car off. No point wasting gas, not in today's economy anyway.

I started thinking about how someone could get into an accident so bad that would close both sides of 110. I expected to hear sirens, see firetrucks, about 10 ambulances. Sadly, that would have made me feel better - knowing what caused the parking lot that I was now experiencing. I looked to my right to see the other cars - the drivers didn't look phased one bit. I started to panic. Could this be the daily commute and I was just the rookie in the crowd here? When others starting turning off their cars too, I felt better. A few people got out of their cars to see over the horizon. No luck. It was gridlocked.

I looked to my left. I was in the shadow of the world's largest office building. The five sided symbol of world domination. Funny, I am not sure I have ever looked at the Pentagon that long. In fact, I have never even been near it for more than a few seconds, zipping by on a bus or in a car. I had seen it from the air of course, taking off from National Airport on one of my many trips. I watched as the droves of people streamed out of the building getting ready to head home. No point in rushing I thought, we are not going anywhere.

About 15-20 mins passed and I was speechless. I had exhausted all profanity and it seemed silly yelling it to myself in my car. Like a four letter word was going to move the car in front of me? Nope. Just then, I noticed on the left hand side of 110, a parade of lights and sirens came flying down the road. I read the sides of the squad cars as they zoomed by...Arlington Police...Pentagon Police. That's it?! No, firetrucks, no ambulance...that is when I knew.

Sure enough, then came the universally recognized black Suburbans, Lincoln Towncars and Chevy Tahoes. I was relieved to know what it was, but that lasted about two second before I threw my hands up and said, "damned dignitaries!" The one day I chose to drive to work I got stuck in a freeze while they moved dignitaries from the Pentagon to wherever they were going. I proceeded to inch all the way to the bridge. Once I made it back into the district I was happy to be battling the usual traffic caused by lights and bad drivers. No black suburbans in sight.

I know it comes with the territory, being in the capital city and all. What ever happened to helicopters? Oh, you didn't feel like using it today? Well, by all means, on those days, do me a favor. Give me a call, I will trade you my car for your helicopter and you can enjoy the view of the gridlock from my level. Deal?

Invader Joes

I am not usually responsible for grocery shopping in my household. I occasionally visit one of the three "S"afeway stores in the area. Yes, I am referring to the Secret Safeway, the Soviet Safeway and the Social Safeway, all in NW DC. It is usually a rather brief encounter. I go in, grab a coke or water or candy and I am out of there.

Last Christmas I received a Trader Joes gift card from a friend of mine. I have heard a great deal about this place, Trader Joes. I see the bags around town and the occasional freezer meal they make when one of my co workers have them for lunch.

So, a few months ago, I decided to venture out and try out the crunchy granola grocery store known as Trader Joes. I heard they opened one up new George Washington University. So, I ventured down on the bus and walked into this latest Trader Joes. What I encountered blew my mind.

I thought I had stepped into a scene from Jumanji or Night at the Museum. It was like there had been a riot for all things organic. I couldn't even walk through the store without bumping in to someone fighting over wasabi peas or tofurkey. The aisles were jammed. I walked through trying to get a glimpse of what everyone was so perplexed with in this place. I didn't even understand the languages being spoken. It was a mix of yuppy and grundgy with a spice of organica!

Eventually, my crowd barometer spiked and I found myself peeling myself out of the crowd and running for the exit. As I escaped the clutches of these grape nut patrons, I took a breath of D.C. downtown air. I looked back and stared with confusion. I asked myself - "What is the attraction?"

Trader Joes? More like Invader Joes! I haven't been back yet. I may give it a few months before I try again. I wonder how long the gift card will last.

Bums in Bethesda?

I am sorry, did I miss the memo? Was there some sort of announcement put out that all bums from NW DC should jump on the metro and ride a few stops until they reach the "first stop in the State of Maryland?" The other day, while running errands in Bethesda, I thought I would stop in the Barnes & Noble on Woodmont Avenue. I was surprised to see about seven bums along Woodmont Ave. picking through the garbage cans and sitting on the outdoor tables.

I find it hard to believe that that Soccer Moms of Bethesda and the latte sipping ladies of the area would let this situation develop. Doesn't this fly in the face of the image of Woodmont Avenue? I would be curious to see if these seven or eight new residents of the road stick around through a Saturday night, when the restaurants are teaming and the gossip is flowing down the streets. Heck, if I were on the hungry side and lacked a place to stay, I would camp out in Bethesda too. Chances are when you get handed a doggie bag out of the goodness of someones heart, you get to finish off the leftovers of a fine cuisine overpriced meal.

I would be curious to see if there is a flight of the bums over to the Clarendon area as well? They have some nice restaurants, don't they?

When Did Red Become the New Orange?!

I live on the Red Line. I have also ridden the Orange Line. I used to hear the horror stories of those condo-owning "geryuppies" (new term I heard for a younger yuppy) who would pack into the metro like sardines every morning to get into the city for work. Then, like clockwork, they would do it all over again at 5PM to return to their highrise, overpriced real estate in Northern Virginia.

At work you would hear people say, "Man, the Orange Line was bad today. I had to wait for three trains before I could smash into a spot." The worst story I ever heard was last summer, when it was one of those really hot mornings and someone said that a girl got sick from her fear of enclosed spaces. Can you imagine being stuck on a metro, packed in like sardines and having someone lose their breakfast in the midst of it? Not appetizing in the least!

I always thought that the Orange Line was indicative of Northern Virginia's poor planning. The fact that half the state of Virginia drives to Vienna or West Falls Church metro station and parks there to catch the metro means that the cars are filled by the time they get three stops down the line. So, all the Starbucks-sipping, condo-owning geryuppies in Clarendon or Ballston (I will save a separate blog entry for that metro stop town) are left stranded on the platform watching as train after train of bureaucrats flies by them.

This means they are late to work, in a bad mood when they get to work and do nothing but complain all day about the Orange Line. Oh, but they love their high-priced condo living and so that makes it all bearable, somehow. I guess that is why at 5PM they leave their desk and do the exact same ritual, only in reverse. I ask you, is it really worth it? But, then again, what is their other option? Sit on 66 watch the world go by while you sit in traffic? I hope you have a good audiobook on CD, because the morning radio in this town sucks too (Sorry, but I am used to real talk radio - spoiled by Los Angeles I guess)! Or I guess you can SLUG. I am still creeped out by that whole thing - the rules, the rituals, the HOV lanes - it just isn't for me.

Back to what I was saying about RED being the new ORANGE. I guess that Shady Grove is the Vienna of Maryland. With every passing day, it seems that my old-reliable Red Line gets more and more crowded. I understand the occasional surge between stations like Gallery Place and Metro Center, which are true transfer points. I even make an exception for Farragut North, voted the busiest metro station in all of Washington. But, when I get on the red line and head into NW DC I don't expect to have to endure the crowds of commuters that I have been seeing as of late.

I know it is the Maryland commuters who are causing my Red line to be the new Orange line. Marylanders, I have nothing against you. When I see you driving around the Capital City, I don't mind, because your tags remind me that you want to save the bay and all that stuff. But I have to ask, why the sudden change in how you get to work? Is it the gas prices? Are you tired of driving the Clara Barton or the GW Parkway? I must say I am puzzled, because I don't hear nearly as much grumbling about Maryland traffic and commuting problems from the water cooler crowds.

Help me understand why when I leave work later, around 7 or 730, I board the metro and have to stand and stake out my 1X1 piece of real estate by the door. I say to myself, "you can't all be working this late." Then, I hope that the crowds subside as we get to Metro Center - nope, just more people piling on. Then I think, okay, they will get off at Dupont - for dinner and stuff. Nope. No one gets on, but no one gets off either. Then, Woodley, Cleveland, Van Ness, Tenley...nothing. How can this be that there are still this many people on this metro when I get off at the "last stop in the District of Columbia?" I push my way out and sigh out of frustration.

As I exit the metro train I watch as it pulls out of the station. I watch as car after car passes, each one filled with people holding the hand rails trying to read their papers. I say to myself, at least I don't have to endure the Shady Grove parking lot each night. Instead, I happily walk home, shaking off the commuter coodies and trying to breath the fresh air, clearing my memory of that bad breath that stood next to me for 6 stops. I am home within minutes of stepping off that escalator. I remind myself that I hate crowds of commuters. I also stop to be thankful that I can be home with my family long before everyone else in that train gets in their cars to return home after a long painful train ride from the Capital City to the burbs. Oh, the joys of living in Washington. Here is to hoping the gas prices go down and my Red Line goes back to being a pleasant journey under NW DC where I can sit and read my paper on the way to work.

Should I Give Them A Second Chance?

After I logged a complaint on Starbucks.com, I got a nice note back that apologized for the service I received at 7&E location and they asked if they can send me some free drink coupons for my troubles. Sure, but I am not sure if I will be the one using them. I may just give them out to my Starbucks junkie friends. You think you can win me back with a few coupons? We will just have to see how much coupon we are talking about. After all, since the price hike of nine cents on every drink, I can probably get a tall something with nothing added. I could be wrong. Maybe I will be surprised. So, I ask you, should I give them a second chance?

Maybe I should ask the folks over at Starbucks Gossip. I found their blog (hilarious by the way) during my search for the ultimate complaint against the mocha monopoly. Maybe before I reconsider I should check out the Starbucks Oracle, which tells me the type of person I am based on what I order from the Barista.

Oh and P.S. - the only Starbuck I like is the female pilot on Battlestar Galactica. I bet she doesn't drink your coffee!

UPDATE: I guess I got my Good Coffee Karma back...two days in a row I have had positive experiences at Starbucks. I ordered a tall coffee and they made me a grande, no extra charge. Then, today, they accidentally made one too many grande coffees and just handed it to me. Granted I am on the other side of the river, so perhaps this doesn't count as it is technically not D.C. customer service. Coffee Karma can be a powerful thing, so I told the baristas that they run a great ship in their Pentagon City location.

Can I Get A Venti Fistful Double Shot Full Caff Can of Whoop Ass?!

I am done with Starbucks. Let the boycott begin immediately. Your monopolistic customer service has annoyed me for the last time.

Andiamo a Vapiano?

This just might be my first FORK DC blog entry. After a long day at work...we are talking 11.5 hours, I decided to walk home from Farragut North, near my office. On my way, I walked by this new restaurant experience known as Vapiano Pasta Pizza Bar. I have to admit, when I walked in and had to receive a briefing before dinner, just on how to order dinner, I was a little turned off. But, hell, I had a long day and the idea of having a steaming bowl of fresh pasta, made right in front of me, was truly appealing.

For a full review, log on to the FORK DC blog: http://forkdc.blogpsot.com

Not Having to Carry Change All Day...Priceless

I hate change. No, not that kind of change. I mean the change that you accumulate with every purchase of a coffee or a soda. First you break the 20, then you break the 10 and then you spend a five and all you have left is a pocket full of change. I hate walking around making that jingling sound, exhibiting a treble beat with every step. My keys are enough to make a metallic beat with every walk, but adding change just makes my walk obnoxious. So, as a result, I don't carry change. Instead, it just piles up on my desk or by my beside table until I get enough courage to take it to one of those change counting machines. Ergo, I am a big fan of my checkcard, compliments of the company that brought you the phrase, "Priceless. For everything else, there's MasterCard."

That being said, I hate when people stop and ask me for change - mainly because I never carry it with me. Believe me, when I have it on me, any chance I am given to rid of it, I will gladly turn it over. So, please don't take it personally, when I say I don't have any change. And to the homeless man I lost my cool in front of tonight, I apologize. I know you may never read this, but you caught me at the end of a long day. I was just set off by you asking me for change and then pitching a fit and giving me attitude when I said I don't carry change. You called me a liar and other words I dare not type, and that was not fair. Dare I ask why the homeless in this town have such an attitude?

Do You Mind Waiting While We Fix Our Camera?

D.C. is not known for its customer service. Institutions like the Department of Motor Vehicles do not help the negative reputation this city maintains. I now remember why, when I renew any sort of license, registration or other bureaucratic documentation for this city, I elect to pay the max and renew for the longest time period possible. It is because after enduring the battle of all things bureaucracy, I never want to step foot in one of D.C.'s government offices again.

Who remembers the first time they had to take their vehicle down to get it inspected? Remember how you felt when you crossed out of NW DC and found yourself on that Anacostia freeway only to wait in a line that wrapped around the block, a block that was not in the best part of town. Boy did you stick out in your Honda Accord with that sticker on your bumper that screams I am a yuppy and I am proud of my yuppee-in-the-making son who will hopefully go to Georgetown and then work as an intern on the hill and then run for Congress somewhere and go down in history as a corrupt politician!

Well, my most recent battle with he-who-should-not-be-named, i.e. THE DC DMV, began one early morning, mid-week. After losing sleep all night about whether I would get there in time, I got up around six in the morning to prepare my documents and rehearse my answers for the big bad BUREAUCRATUM! I got to the Georgetown DMV location exactly 45 mins before the office opened. I was shocked to see fellow DC residents already waiting, no, camped out! This reminded me of undergraduate days, when we would all try and beat each other the the registrar's office to be first in line to sign up for Organic Chemistry or Diff EQ. If you were in the first 50 people, you would be good. Not true here. If you made the top 10, I think you could guarantee getting your license or registration in time to get to work. After all, this was a weekday and yes, I had planned to lose productivity for this - my license to drive in the nation's capital.

So, after being yelled at by the contracted security guard - can't blame him, he is just doing his job and exhibiting his LITTLE POWER, we were allowed in to take a ticket. My ticket, as you can see said my wait time was 4 minutes! Sweet! I would so get to work on time. Of course I spoke to soon and some bureaucrat must have seen the elation on my face, because just as I took my seat, an announcement was made.

Ladies and Gentlemen, if you are here to get a license or id or renew a license or id, you are going to have to wait. Our camera is currently broken and we don't know how long it will be down. We have called the repairman to come take a look at it, but he will not be here for a while. You are welcome to wait, but I don't know how long it will be. We will let you know.

Well, you would have thought I was in a scene of the Breakfast Club. Businessmen and women, moms and dads, college students all turned into angry scowling customers and threw pens and clipboards and gasped and sighed. I swear I even heard a few f bombs. I am sure it was not within earshot of the security guard, because I think he was itching to throw someone out, and he would have had a great start to the day if he could make an example out of one of us pissed off customers.

Well, I guess you know where I am going with this. My four minutes vanished and someone got turned into two and a half hours of waiting. Thank goodness I had a good book and my iPod to distract me for a while. Of course the longer we waited the more angry the mob got and I did get to see one man thrown out. There were several coffee violators who tried to sneak something other than water into the DMV. NO GO! So, another two hours of my life gone and all I have to show for it is this little ticket stub that says they took 4 minutes of my time.

Unfortunately, this ticket stub didn't really fly for a note explaining my tardiness to my boss. He just shook his head and said, "better time management." I quit right there and then.

Okay, so I didn't really quit, but I wanted to call the rest of the day a loss. Now I am good until 2012 or at least until I move.

Who Decides The Code Red?

Do you ever wonder who gets the decision authority to declare a code orange or code red day in the Nation's Capital? Is it the weather man? Is it the mayor? Is it a health official? I just want to know who I can send a thank you note to when I get a free ride on the bus or a free ride on the metro. Of course, a free ride on the bus comes with drawbacks - namely everyone takes the bus. Thank goodness I get a seat early in the commute, because otherwise I wouldn't not be happy about standing face to armpit with someone trying desperately not to fall with every touch of the break pedal. No, instead I get there early, get a seat and read the paper all the way home while people fight their way to the back of the bus - "Can you please move down?"

Although the other day, there was this guy who had a huge umbrella. You know the type that look like jousting sticks. He was listening to his iPod and with every beat of his music he would pound the tip of his umbrella on the floor of the bus. Well, it drove me absolutely batty! I turned around and shot him several looks that said, "Cut it out!" He was clueless and had no idea. He continued to do it until the bus driver got pissed and stopped the bus to ask him to stop. Of course, the man did not hear him because he had his iPod earbuds in his head. Finally some woman tapped him and got his attention. The bus driver explained to him that every time he would pound his umbrella on the floor, the driver would think there was something wrong with the bus and it was making that noise. So, the idiot stopped. I was able to enjoy the rest of my code red bus trip all the way to NW D.C.

What's With the Big Red Ds?

Has anyone else noticed these big red d’s around town? I have noticed them in some funky sculpturesque looking bike racks around the city. I also saw a few maintenance trucks driving around with a big red d period on it. Is this supposed to be some sort of campaign to infuse DC pride? Maybe it is the sister project to the failed attempt in Baltimore. Does anyone remember that BELIEVE campaign that Mayor O’Malley, now Governor O’Malley, kicked off. All those banners were hanging around Baltimore for a few years and were supposed to force people to have pride in their city and clean up and all that stuff. Is that what this is? I just need someone to tell me, because I don't want to make a fool out of myself when I try and lock my bike up to one of these supposed pieces of artwork and get in trouble or something.

Will The Drowning Man Take His Last Breath?

D.C. is a town built on rumors. Political playing fields peppered with hungry egos makes fertile ground for rumors. I recently read a review of those books that make up the series "Overheard in New York." The concept that you publish the scandalous things you overhear on the street or in the subway cars, DC is prime real estate for this. I don't get too excited or agitated by the rumors that buzz with the day to day politics of D.C., but every once and a while there is a really interesting one. You know the ones about the baseball stadium or the metro fare hikes or even the HOV lanes. Well, the latest I heard is that they are going to remove The Drowning Man from Hains Point. I haven't been over there in a while, but maybe I should go pay my last respects, just in case the rumor is true. Random movie trivia to close out the posting. What movie has an opening seen that shows a politician committing suicide near The Drowning Man sculpture?

Update: Clearly, I am a little behind the times with my rumor mill. Thanks to Sarah for posting a comment to let me know the following from the WashingtonPost:

"The Awakening" sculpture, which had been part of the Hains Point landscape since 1980, was bought this spring and will become part of the waterfront development as well.

Does this mean I can go visit him down in the waterfront?

FORK DC?

I don't like when people vandalize my city. You can make fun of it all you want, but I don't stand for graffiti and defacing of property and monuments...okay, so this was a sewer plate, but still.

Walking home today from a wonderful day, when I actually wasn't driven mad by one of this city's quarks, I looked down and saw this. Someone must have had an art pen or a very small can of spray paint to write it. Nice penmanship, but no dice.

If I could have altered it right there on the spot, I would have, but I am pretty sure if I was caught messing with a sewer plate near a government building the Secret Service would come ask to see my ID. There we go again with the IDs.

So, I am left to take a picture and alter the picture. There now it says FORK DC - this will begin the new restaurant critic portion of my blog. Who knows maybe someone will do a spin off blog on the city's cuisine. I only ask you credit the idea - which was hatched here.

Saturday Mornings in a Capital City

Have you ever gotten up really early on a Saturday and just walked around parts of Downtown DC? Before you shrug at the idea of getting up early on a weekend, hear me out. Washington is a city that has moods and waves and patterns. Washington rush hour is a wave of activity in the morning and afternoon. Washington traffic is a pattern, well sort of anyway...if you can call chaos a pattern, that is. As far as moods, early Saturday mornings capture what I call Washington in a good mood.

It is when you get the best of all things Washington. Today for example, is that perfect April or September weather, only it is July. The city is buzzing with the perfect mix of tourists and locals. All us businessmen and businesswomen are home reading the weekend edition of the Post, or the NYTimes for all you wannabe "real city" folks. Okay, so maybe I am not at home reading the Post, but I am at a downtown cafe, enjoying my coffee and bagel watching the world walk by my window.

I love the looks on the faces of the tourist families as they begin their long days walk around the city. They are so eager and so happy to be here. The tourist kids on the metro remind me why this is a great city. You know the kids that swing innocently on the handrails and get all excited at the idea of going to a spy museum or going to the top of the Washington Monument.

So, I just want to give a shout out to all those early risers, whether you are a tourist or a resident, eager to discover Washington at its best. Thanks for making my weekend mornings enjoyable.

Oh, and if you end up liking Saturday mornings in Washington, you should try Sunday mornings. I swear the city is so quiet that you can walk right down the middle of Wisconsin Avenue at 6 am as if it was a sidewalk. That reminds me of the time I went skiing down the middle of Wisconsin Avenue to go to the grocery store. I will save that entry for the winter months, when Washington is bound to have a blizzard crisis with all the bread and milk shortages.

How Many IDs Do You Have?

Does anyone else in this town notice the abundance of IDs and badges and key fobs we have hanging from our necks? Did I miss the memo that said, "He/She who dies with the most IDs wins!" How our daily routines have changes to include mornings where you talk to yourself and it goes something like this, "Keys...check, wallet....check, SmarTrip card...check....Crap, I forgot my ID...I have to go all the way home and get it. Man, now I am going to miss my train."

I am not sure when it started, probably sometime after 9/11, but ever since the words Homeland and Security were merged to become a household term, it seems we must define our existence in the form of badges and IDs. Seriously, do I really need another piece of plastic with a mug shot photo of myself to enter my apartment building, workplace, or even my local gym?

There are certain days I feel like playing ID UNO with my friends. "My Senate badge trumps your FAA badge, so draw four and buy my next Starbucks venti coffee. Deal?" You know who I feel bad for? The Security Guards who have to fan through all my badges to find the one that gets me into their lobby. Each day they ask me to put the appropriate one at the front of the pack, but I never do. Probably because my hands are full with Starbucks and the WashingtonPost. I can't be bothered to play the keychain game with all my IDs, so I just leave it and let them scoff at my three of a kind government contractor badges and laugh at my faded employer badge. They laugh, but I know they envy me and my permission-based power. Plus, without all this badging and security, I don't think they would have that job, so they should be thankful, I guess.

One person who loves my IDs unconditionally is nephew. He loves when I walk in the door and gives him a hug, so he can dive right for the assortment of badges. I figure they are pretty indestructible, so I let him play with them for a few hours. Of course, the next morning is like a re-enactment of the Da Vinci code, following the signs and clues to the treasure that is my life in the form of a few plastic cards and badges. Every time I tell him, "you can play with these, but just don't lose them, because without these your Uncle doesn't work and that means no toys." He laughs at me and releases them.

Do you ever think about what St. Peter would say if you showed up at the Gates with all those badges? I am pretty sure they wouldn't work where you ultimately want to go.

Do You Think I Can Hold My Breath That Long?

Washington has been smoke free for six months and six days. Don't worry, I am not about to write a blog entry on how I hate DC being smoke free. I think it is one of the best moves this city has made in the past few years. What I do hate is when I am entering or exiting a metro station and I see someone light up while on the escalator to or from the station.

You know who you are. You are the type of addictive personality that will carry the cigarette in hand, just holding it there, occasionally putting it in your mouth, even when you are still on the metro train. Do you really have that strong of a craving? I have no pity for you and your addictions. Can you not curb your enthusiasm for your cancer sticks until we get out into the open air?

Nothing ruins my commute like being stuck on a metro escalator, unable to pass on the left and being forced to breathe in the second hand smoke of someone a few people ahead of me.

Last I checked, there were unwritten rules of etiquette on the metro. We all know the obvious ones:

1. Don't block the doors
2. Stand on the right, pass on the left (when on the escalators)
3. Do not eat or drink in the metro (though this seems to be slipping because I see more people drinking Starbucks on the trains)
   

I propose we add one more unwritten rule and propel it to the top of the list:

1. Do not light your cigarette until you have reached the top of the metro escalator and you are in the open air. This will allow fellow passengers to breath clean air during the daily commute.
   

What Ever Happened to Customer Service?

Why is it that when this Capital City hosts thousands of our nation's tourists for holiday weekends like Memorial Day weekend, the Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority (WMATA) seems to recruit its worst for customer service representatives. I hate how rude our own WMATA employees can be when tourists are standing around metro stations looking for help. I cannot tell you how many times I have tried to stop tourists from inserting 20 dollar bills into the ticket machines. I hate when I walk by and see the gleeful look of a tourist turn to shock and awe when they realize that they are receiving 15 plus dollars in change, all in quarters.

And why is it that the station managers or assistant station managers will not help you in buying the correct ticket, but they will stop you when you try to hand over your ticket to another visitor who might not have enough on their ticket. The other day a relative of mine had this happen, where she knew she was not going to be leaving the next morning to return to the West coast. She still had over 15 dollars of metro fare on her card, but she knew she would not be back any time soon to use it. So, when someone was passing by and had trouble with the card, she simply offered it to them as she exited, explaining she was leaving the city. Just then, a station manager came running out and screamed at her, making a scene, scolding her for trying to trade fare cards. No explanation was given. Now, you and I fellow Washingtonians know the rules, but innocent tourists do not. So, why not politely explain the rules to them instead of yelling at them in a very public manner. This leaves a lasting impression, and a very negative one at that.

That leaves you and me to undo the damage. So, next time you see a tourist about to insert that Andrew Jackson into that ticket machine, take an extra minute of your time - and perhaps miss that train you were running for - and assist them in buying metro tickets. The good karma will come back five fold.

What Do You Mean You Don't Have Frappucinnos?

I hate that there is a Starbucks on almost every corner of Washington's downtown streets. I once heard there are nearly 50 Starbucks in a 5 mile radius in Washington, D.C. Are there really that many yuppies in this town?

I hate that the Juan Valdez Cafe closed before I got my free coffee. Sure, their coffee didn't taste that great, but I was cheering for the underdog that opened up across the street from a Starbucks in Penn Quarter. Now all I have is this frequent coffee card that I carried around in my wallet for months.

According to the Nuestro Futuro page on the Juan Valdez Cafe website, they are going to do "Expansion internacional" in 2006. So much for that plan. I wonder how the Juans in NYC and Seattle are holding up?

Can You Hear Me Now?

I dislike loud talkers. I hate loud talkers on the metro. We all know the type. Mr. I just got done with happy hour so I am going to board the train with my friends and proceed to tell inside jokes and curse. What is it that makes these guys think that anyone on their nightly commute wants to hear that? Is it really necessary to use the f word every five seconds to get your point across? Last I checked, no one on this train had a RSS feed to your miserable life, so stop streaming your verbal vomit and let us have a few minutes to listen to the sound of the steel on tracks or read our day old Washington Post.

Oh, and you are scaring the tourists.

Do We Love to Hate D.C.?

Besides an appetite for networking, politics and the occasional scandal, the most important thing you need to survive the Nation's Capital is a sense of humor. This blog shares and archive those humorous albeit annoying things about the most powerful city in the World, Washington, D.C.

We all know the most common complaints - It's no New York, but it's the Hollywood for ugly people; the parking is a joke and the traffic is worse; Metro is increasing fares and decreasing trains; and perhaps what should be our new city slogan, "Our local news is your national news."

Contribute pet peeves, grievances, complaints and memorable moments on why we love to hate D.C.