Confessions of a New Commuter

I just started a new job in “downtown” Washington, D.C. which is approximately 45 minutes from where I live out in the Maryland ‘burbs. This means I, like thousands of other of my working comrades, turn to the metro to which us downtown on one of five color-coded rail lines each and every morning.

Over these past weeks, I’ve discovered that being a full-fledged commuter involves taking on a whole new personality from 7:45 to 8:30 each morning, Monday through Friday. I wake up early (well, earlier than I’m used to…) brew my coffee in my travel mug, walk the dog, hop in the shower, get dressed, kiss the dog goodbye and attempt to drive to the metro in less than 15 minutes (I’ve now timed it…if I leave my parking lot and not get caught in the school bus traffic on my street, I can make it to the metro in a solid 15 minutes—baring that I don’t run over an unsuspecting eight grader getting off the bus at the elementary school around the corner and that I am able to run a red light or two without getting sideswiped.) This is all the while listening to the radio to get caught up on local and national events (no domestic train bombings—that’s a good sign) and drinking said coffee that I took the time to make half an hour prior to “departure”. As I cut off the local commuter bus just before it turns into the metro entrance (if I don’t, that adds another three minutes to my drive time which then adds five-ten minutes to my commute if I don’t make my 8:05 train). I enjoy the fact that I can cruise through the metro parking gates without having to pay (well, on the way in at least…). It reminds me when I first got my license in New Jersey and the toll takers went on strike…and let everyone cruise through their tolls on the Garden State Parkway without paying. The trick was how fast you could get through the toll without flipping your car…I feel the same way when those metro parking uprights are raised in the air!

I’ve tested out parking spots—which ones are the closest to the entrance metro—and which ones are close enough without getting your car door dinged by other commuters you may have cut off on the way to the metro this morning.

I’ve timed the walk to the metro platform (four minutes) and have even timed it when I hear an oncoming train approach (three minutes in a full sprint if I don’t get caught in the metro turn style). I, like so many others, usually dive onto the moving car as the doors close and frantically look for a seat—all the while not making eye contact with any of the other commuters who are reading “The Express” , reading or sleeping.

Since I’ve joined the ranks of metro commuter, I’ve come to realize, the car is one. No one looks up. No one makes conversation. Everyone abides by the unspoken commuter rule: It’s time to get to work…and ride in silence. In fact, the only time you may actually hear any grumbling is when the metro jerks to a stop for no apparent reason. When this happens, we all partake in a car-wide collective sigh, a dramatic look at the watches (like there was anything any of us could do to make the train continue and maybe miss a stop or two to make up the time). Once the train jerks to a start, we all attempt to regain our footing, focus on staring straight ahead at nothing in particular and wonder what the 5:00 p.m. commute holds for all of us.