First Day

Today was my first day of commuting to D.C. I was nervous as anything, but it turned out just fine.

Morning: I didn't have to be at the National Press Building until 9:30 a.m., but I made sure to leave the house by 6:45 a.m. to ensure I could get a parking spot. I parked and walked toward the carpooling lane. I was nervous as there was a line of cars waiting in one spot of the lane and a line of people waiting on another. I knew there were two separate lines — one for the Pentagon and one for D.C. — but I wasn't sure which was which. The first car sitting in line was a blue '80s model BMW, driver sitting and waiting with one passenger already in the back seat. I approached the driver's side to ask which line this was but he beat me to it.
"Pentagon?" he asked.
I must have been a little over-emphatic as I shouted "Yes!" and ran around the front of the car and hopped in the passenger seat because he was laughing at me when I got in.
"A little excited this morning, are we?"
I explained to him that he was the beginning of my new adventure that is commuting. He laughed again, put his car into gear (it was a manual) and we were off.
The driver was a white and obviously middle-aged as his skin was sagging slightly on his face and, even though he had a full head of hair, it was gray. He was wearing a long-sleeved collared shirt, a pretty sky blue which made up for how dreary the day was (though I'm not complaining, it was much cooler than it was two days prior).
The man in the back was wearing a black suit with a white collared shirt and yellow tie. He had a leather briefcase with him. He never said a word through the whole trip. All I heard from the back was him shuffling as he changed position from time to time.
One of the unwritten rules of slugging is all conversation should be initiated by the driver. Otherwise ... no talking. The driver and I talked the entire time. We first talked about the whole idea of "slugging" — how lots of people might think it's dangerous but, to those who do it, everyone is just trying to get to work ... no other agenda. We then talked about what I was doing in D.C. then about school. He mentioned he used to be in the Air Force and had two kids in high school, a daughter who is my age at James Madison Univeristy and a son at Florida State University. I groaned at the metion of a Seminole and he laughed adding that he understood ... he was a Miami fan, himself. I groaned again and told him, honestly, that I hated FSU and Miami football. They both play dirty. He just nodded his head as an acknowledgment of my opinion. We continued the conversation by discussing the current state of journalism. We talked about the Internet, the newspapers we liked to read — "I'm a centrist Democrat," he said. "I love my Washington Post." — and what the future of journalism might be.
In no time, we were at the Pentagon and it was time to depart. He wished me luck with my job and I thanked him for the ride. From there, I took the Metro into downtown and the day really began.
This man eased my nerves on my first time slugging and I will always appreciate it.
Evening: My ride home wasn't as eventful as the morning was. By 4:30 p.m., I was back at the Pentagon standing in line to slug back home. There were two men in line before me, so I knew it might be some time before I got into a car. For ten minutes we watched car after car drive past us and stop at other lines. At one point, the man at the front of the line — an older man in a beige polo and hunter-green slacks holding a restaurant's doggie-bag (probably left-overs from lunch) — turned to us and said, "Looks like we're invisible today." We chuckled and, not two minutes later, a tan Honda sedan came by and stuck two fingers up in the windshield. There went my friends. I stood alone for a few minutes before a handful of people walked up and joined the line.
A black Dodge sport utility vehicle came up, rolled down the passenger-side window and also asked for two riders. I hopped into the passenger seat and the man standing behind me got in the back seat. He seemed like a nice guy, though we didn't talk when we were standing in line. He was white, seemed young (late 20s, early 30s) wore a short-sleeved green polo and khaki shorts. I wished I could dress that casual — I was wearing a black top I bought yesterday with gray slacks and black heels that, by that time, were killing my feet.
The driver was an African American, also male and in the same age range as the man sitting behind me. He was wearing a long-sleeve white collared shirt and black slacks, though he had a white ballcap on. He said hi to us and that was all that was said until we were back at the lot.
The car was very lived-in. Made me believe he didn't help slugs much. He had a carseat in the back seat, there were cups and papers on the floor and stuffed into the pockets on the doors. There was a pillow pal dog resting on the center console. The driver used it as an elbow rest, but I doubt that is its original purpose.
Here's something that might make a global warming supporter feel better about the world. I cannot tell you how many hybrid cars I saw on the road — at least ten, and that's only when I was paying attention.

I got home safe and sound at 6 p.m. My first day of commuting done and I'm ready for tomorrow!