I’m not a good traveller, apparently.

My day started off early – like 6am early – which is truly a very early hour for me to be starting off at. I said goodbye to my darling sister, hooked up her new BluRay player, and headed out the door. I was a little groggy, not having had very much coffee, and also a little nauseous for reasons I still can’t ascertain. Luckily, there was a shuttle available to take me from her apartment complex to the Metro, saving me a one-mile walk with my rolly bag, but, even with this small luxury at my disposal, things quickly started to flag southward.

Things about the shuttle that annoyed me:
– it was freezing. FUCKING freezing. Like, I don’t know how the driver was getting by without a parka
– everybody was wearing massive amounts of perfume, which didn’t help my nausea one bit
– nobody wanted to let me get OFF the shuttle, because I had my rolly bag and I would have taken an extra five seconds to arrange myself and move on.

But I soldiered through and onto the Metro, where I was packed like a sad little sardine between a woman reading the Wall Street Journal out loud to her husband and a very unimpressed girl scout.

Things about the Metro that annoyed me:
– the color. Orange? Anyone? Who decided this?
– the smell.
– the heat.
– every single person on the goddamn train, especially the ones who touched me and/or gave me and my rolly bag dirty looks. I’m being as small as I can, you know? It’s not MY fault I’m going to the airport!

Finally, two train lines and one particularly pungent elevator later, I arrived at Union Station, where I was to take the MARC train to BWI.

Things about Union Station that annoyed me:
– total lack of signage re: the MARC system.
– shitty internet (FREE Wifi, Amtrak? I think NOT.)
– the line at Starbucks, which was a mile long,
– and the people that thought it was actually WORTHWHILE to wait in a line a mile long for Starbucks.
– the guy behind me who wouldn’t stop sucking his teeth.

The ride to BWI was easy enough – I got my own seat and did some editing – but then I had to take a shuttle bus from the train station to the airport.

Things about the shuttle ride that annoyed me:
– the fact that no shuttle arrived for a good ten minutes
– the well-meaning woman from the midwest who kept on pressing her denim-clad thigh into mine
– the well-meaning man from the midwest who didn’t hold on and crumpled like a house of cards when the shuttle finally stopped
– the girl with the spoon bag who kept on STARING at me
– the driver, whom I couldn’t understand. Air Tran? American? They’re two different words, MAKE THEM SOUND THAT WAY

It’s no surprise, then, that as soon as I got through security (also annoying, but that goes without saying) I found myself a seat barside and dove headfirst into a Corona. By this time it was noon, and therefore somewhat acceptable. Corona makes everything better.

One response to “I’m not a good traveller, apparently.”

  1. i feel you on the hell of shuttle to metro to train in DC.

    there i am at 15 with the world’s worst cotton-mouth head-spinning hangover yet still drunk after a mere 2 hours’ sleep on hardwood. i’ve just spent the entire weekend jamming to beastie boys and radiohead at the tibetan freedom concert in 90 degree heat, which i combated with a bottomless flask of grain alcohol and chewing tobacco. everything hurts.

    it’s monday morning rush hour and i have to take the metro to amtrak, by myself. i’ve never lived in a city before. the smell of commuters’ breakfasts makes me dry heave. and my mom is going to be waiting for me at the train station on the other end (after changing trains in NYC and taking jersey transit out; that’s a story for another time and it involves bumming a cigarette off john malkovich). i’m being jostled by a throng of businessmen and my cold sweat reeks of booze. i wander for 40 minutes and almost miss my train trying to find it.

    you may not be a good traveler, but the metro to train connection in DC is meant to torture you, i contend. there is absolutely nothing to like about it.


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