the first thing i did upon returning to DC was take the metro, where i promptly got caught up in people watching. it was more like people-appreciating and made me smile real big at strangers as they entered and exited the train… at my stop!

i ran to the doors and managed to smash-wedge a corner of my suitcase into the last four inches of space as they closed. and then i just stood there, malfunction achieved, waiting for them to open again.

i guess in the new cars that doesn’t happen? a kind human who had made it to the platform in appropriate time stopped, rolled their eyes, and reached in to wrench at the doors from their side. grateful me tried to push my suitcase further, knowing that if i had to go to the next stop i could be waiting up to 40min for the next train (wmata riders, you feel me?).

between the two of us we made a gap big enough for me to slip out through, only so i could immediately get my shoulder bag stuck in the closing doors behind me. i yelped in panic, and my helper friend paused, both of us thinking the train would move while i was stuck. with the force of that terror i yanked my should bag free. the kind stranger breathed an understandably, audibly, exasperated sigh of relief and left me, frozen grinning with relief and thanks, in a hurry.

now fully on the platform, kind of hot from exertion but utterly amused, i watched as the train doors opened casually, slowly, all the way, as if i had never been stuck at all.

six months away and i am a complete tourist, y’all. never before have i held up a train! i am that asshole. on an adventure, not a vacation.