Morning: Short line this morning. I was shoved into the backseat of a silver Toyota sports car (sometimes I hate being short). It was a convertible, but the top was up (thank God). The driver was a very large white man with glasses and short, dark gray hair.
The radio station he was tuned to was highly annoying. I don't even know how to describe what it was. It wasn't country, but it wasn't pop it was some weird mix of the two. I wanted to lose myself in my iPod, but it was dead. I went to sleep instead.
Evening: My ride this evening was a black Hyundai. There were two people in the front already when they drove up and they took two of us (I love it when people who can fit four seat four).
The driver was an older woman, mid- to late-50s and the gentleman in the passenger seat was about the same age, if not older. She wore her hair cropped short. She had on a black shirt and gold-hooped earrings. She would not stop clearing her throat for the entire ride. By the end I wanted to throw my water bottle at her.
The gentleman (her husband?) was in a blue and white striped shirt. He was pudgy around the middle, but he had a kind face and spoke softly. He didn't speak to me or the man who got in with me, only to the woman. The woman did thank us for riding with them, though, as we got in.
There was a handicap tag hanging from their rearview mirror. After watching them both for a bit, I think the passenger is the handicapped one simply because of age ... but it's just a guess.
The man who got in the back seat with me was an Army colonel. I so badly wanted to talk to him because I saw he had a West Point Academy ring on his right hand. I almost wrote "Go Navy, Beat Army" on a piece of paper and passed it to him, but that sounded so juvenile, I talked myself out of it. He fell asleep during the ride which allowed me a closer look at his ring. Could have been awkward if the woman looked in the rearview mirror and saw me up close and personal with this guy's right hand and, for all I know, she could have seen it. But nothing was said.
I almost said something as I got out of the car in the parking lot, but again, I held back. Maybe I'll see him again closer to the big game ...
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Day Twelve
Morning: The line was long this morning, but I didn't mind. The weather was nice (always good when the sun isn't up yet) and I kept myself amused with the license plates that came through the lot. There was a man who came through in a silver Saturn Vue. He had a University of Michigan frame around his Virginia license plate and I chuckled when I saw it (as did the man standing next to me). Appalachian State beat Michigan ... I love it.
Another was a Virginia plate as well, but it had a Florida State Seminole theme. It said: "I H8 UF" Oh, college football, how I missed thee.
My ride was a brand new BMW. I didn't catch the model, but it was pretty. It was black with a black interior. I almost spilled my coffee getting in (could have been a nightmare). I usually use a Starbucks mug that's awesomely leak-proof. I'm confident enough to throw it into my bag with my computer. But my mug was dirty and I had to grab another that's not as reliable. Thankfully, I caught myself before it happened and I don't think the driver noticed anything.
We hit traffic as soon as we hit the highway.
The woman driver and the guy who got into the passenger seat knew each other. I don't know if they were neighbors or if I was experiencing the beauty of the slug line. People just get to know each other.
Apparently, the driver (who works in Stafford) was heading up north for an interview for a new job. She never said what it was, so I can't claim I know any special people who are privy to government secrets. The passenger said his wife has a new job but just got offered a position somewhere else with higher pay. She wants to take it, but, as the man pointed out, this is her third job in two years ... that doesn't look good on a resume. I silently agreed. The talk soon turned to resumes which I know enough about so I tuned out for a while.
School has started, so they started talking about their kids. They both have sons who play football, though they never mentioned how old they were so I don't know if its middle or high school football (yes, the middle schools here have football teams). The passenger mentioned how he made brownies for his son's first day of school. I had to hold back a chuckle. I just found the idea of this man — dressed up in his Army uniform — making brownies in the kitchen amusing.
Soon conversation ended and the man in the passenger seat fell asleep. I sipped on my coffee (it was overflowing and I was paranoid from the near-spill accident earlier) and listened to the traffic/news station the woman was tuned to until we got to the Pentagon.
Evening: My ride home was miserable. I was in a tan sedan (didn't catch the make or model) with two men who knew each other and a woman who had been waiting in line with me.
The two men talked the whole ride home. They were talking about working at the Pentagon, their kids, the different schools in the area, commuting and Colorado Springs. The woman in the back next to me broke a slugging rule by talking on her cell phone — the ENTIRE TIME! I couldn't believe it. Apparently (from what I gather from her side of the conversation) she was in D.C. for a court date. Seems she was in a fender bender. She wasn't just talking to one person, though. She would get off the phone with one person then call someone else. I guess it's a good thing the two guys in the front were talking because, otherwise, someone could have gotten yelled at.
I so badly wanted to sleep, but everyone was talking and it was so hot in the car, I just couldn't do it. The AC was on, but I guess the vents weren't really pointed to the back. It was so hot and stuffy and the smell wasn't pleasant either. I couldn't wait to get out of the car. I practically ran out when we got back to the commuter lot.
Another was a Virginia plate as well, but it had a Florida State Seminole theme. It said: "I H8 UF" Oh, college football, how I missed thee.
My ride was a brand new BMW. I didn't catch the model, but it was pretty. It was black with a black interior. I almost spilled my coffee getting in (could have been a nightmare). I usually use a Starbucks mug that's awesomely leak-proof. I'm confident enough to throw it into my bag with my computer. But my mug was dirty and I had to grab another that's not as reliable. Thankfully, I caught myself before it happened and I don't think the driver noticed anything.
We hit traffic as soon as we hit the highway.
The woman driver and the guy who got into the passenger seat knew each other. I don't know if they were neighbors or if I was experiencing the beauty of the slug line. People just get to know each other.
Apparently, the driver (who works in Stafford) was heading up north for an interview for a new job. She never said what it was, so I can't claim I know any special people who are privy to government secrets. The passenger said his wife has a new job but just got offered a position somewhere else with higher pay. She wants to take it, but, as the man pointed out, this is her third job in two years ... that doesn't look good on a resume. I silently agreed. The talk soon turned to resumes which I know enough about so I tuned out for a while.
School has started, so they started talking about their kids. They both have sons who play football, though they never mentioned how old they were so I don't know if its middle or high school football (yes, the middle schools here have football teams). The passenger mentioned how he made brownies for his son's first day of school. I had to hold back a chuckle. I just found the idea of this man — dressed up in his Army uniform — making brownies in the kitchen amusing.
Soon conversation ended and the man in the passenger seat fell asleep. I sipped on my coffee (it was overflowing and I was paranoid from the near-spill accident earlier) and listened to the traffic/news station the woman was tuned to until we got to the Pentagon.
Evening: My ride home was miserable. I was in a tan sedan (didn't catch the make or model) with two men who knew each other and a woman who had been waiting in line with me.
The two men talked the whole ride home. They were talking about working at the Pentagon, their kids, the different schools in the area, commuting and Colorado Springs. The woman in the back next to me broke a slugging rule by talking on her cell phone — the ENTIRE TIME! I couldn't believe it. Apparently (from what I gather from her side of the conversation) she was in D.C. for a court date. Seems she was in a fender bender. She wasn't just talking to one person, though. She would get off the phone with one person then call someone else. I guess it's a good thing the two guys in the front were talking because, otherwise, someone could have gotten yelled at.
I so badly wanted to sleep, but everyone was talking and it was so hot in the car, I just couldn't do it. The AC was on, but I guess the vents weren't really pointed to the back. It was so hot and stuffy and the smell wasn't pleasant either. I couldn't wait to get out of the car. I practically ran out when we got back to the commuter lot.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Day Eleven
Morning: I was in a Toyota Camry this morning — green, pretty new model. It smelled delicious and I couldn't tell if it was the car (there was a generic air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror) or one of the riders was fabulously cologned.
The man in the front seat was listening to his iPod the entire ride. He was in his early to mid-30s, attractive — casually dressed in a red t-shirt, brown shorts with a brown messenger bag (I saw it at the stop). He had short, dark hair and a beard trimmed pretty short.
The driver looked young from the back but, once you saw his face, knew he was at least 45. He was dressed in a blue, yellow and white striped polo shirt with khaki pants. He kept scratching is right cheek (I started counting after around 5, but lost count after 40). He had a pretty big nose, which I only saw in profile when he looked over his shoulder to check his blind spot.
There was a license plate and a Bible in the pocket behind the driver's seat. I don't know what state the plate is because it was facing into the chair. The car was washed, but not very well — once we got sun shined directly on the window, you could see the soap residue. It was in a neat pattern, up and down and around the edge like your typical car washer would do.
The driver couldn't make up his mind as to what station he wanted to listen to. Eventally, he switched to a CD. It was mostly rock ballads. We listened to White Snake, Poison and Cutting Crew, but he skipped over some good ones I wouldn't have minded listening to like Journey (Don't stop, believing!!!) or Bonnie Tyler (TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART!!!)
The ride was silent minus the driver's schizo music choices and the faint noise you could hear from the passenger's earbuds.
Evening: There was no line at the Pentagon this evening. There was a line of cars waiting at my stop for someone to walk up. As I was heading in that direction, I saw a Nissan Altima also going that way with a Naval Academy license plate. I so wanted to hop in his/her car as I knew that would be something we could talk about (Dad is class of '83, go Navy, beat Army!). I got lucky, though, the tan Honda Civic waiting first in line for someone heading to my lot also had Naval Academy tags. I jumped into the passenger seat of the car ready and willing to get into it. We had to wait for a third rider before we left, so I (breaking the rules) started the conversation while we waited.
"Saw you had Naval Academy tags, you or your husband?" I asked ... I already had taken note of her wedding band.
"Both, actually!" she replied and our conversation was underway. We got our third rider and she and I talked the rest of the way.
She graduated from the USNA in 1993, her husband in 1994. They both ended up in the Air Force — he cross-commissioned (which never really looks good on your record) and she went Navy before heading to the Air Force. She told me stories about how her class did the Herndon in 93 minutes (great for the class of '93). For those of you who don't know what she means by "did the Herndon," I'll explain: The Herndon Monument is monument at the Academy that represents the acme of "plebe year" (freshman year). The monument is covered with lard at the end of the year and the plebes must climb it (usually by human pyramid) and replace a "dixie-cup" (plebe headwear) with a cover. This represents the end of their plebe year. If you type "herndon monument" in Google images, you can get an idea of what insanity it can be.
We also talked about Navy games, especially Army/Navy. I told her my father got season tickets to Navy home games and she told me to enjoy every minute of it. And we talked about Cantler's Riverside Inn, the best crab shack anyone will ever know.
I witnessed by first blown tire on the highway during this ride. Don't worry, it wasn't the car I was in. There was a truck about half a mile ahead of us and, since we were going downhill, we could see it pretty easily. A huge cloud of dust suddenly overwhelmed the entire spread of the highway. The driver nonchalantely said, "Ooooh, blown tire" and we watched cars go everywhere. Thankfully, the truck whose tire blew moved over to the shoulder very quick and no one got into accident. Business resumed as usual.
The man in the front seat was listening to his iPod the entire ride. He was in his early to mid-30s, attractive — casually dressed in a red t-shirt, brown shorts with a brown messenger bag (I saw it at the stop). He had short, dark hair and a beard trimmed pretty short.
The driver looked young from the back but, once you saw his face, knew he was at least 45. He was dressed in a blue, yellow and white striped polo shirt with khaki pants. He kept scratching is right cheek (I started counting after around 5, but lost count after 40). He had a pretty big nose, which I only saw in profile when he looked over his shoulder to check his blind spot.
There was a license plate and a Bible in the pocket behind the driver's seat. I don't know what state the plate is because it was facing into the chair. The car was washed, but not very well — once we got sun shined directly on the window, you could see the soap residue. It was in a neat pattern, up and down and around the edge like your typical car washer would do.
The driver couldn't make up his mind as to what station he wanted to listen to. Eventally, he switched to a CD. It was mostly rock ballads. We listened to White Snake, Poison and Cutting Crew, but he skipped over some good ones I wouldn't have minded listening to like Journey (Don't stop, believing!!!) or Bonnie Tyler (TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART!!!)
The ride was silent minus the driver's schizo music choices and the faint noise you could hear from the passenger's earbuds.
Evening: There was no line at the Pentagon this evening. There was a line of cars waiting at my stop for someone to walk up. As I was heading in that direction, I saw a Nissan Altima also going that way with a Naval Academy license plate. I so wanted to hop in his/her car as I knew that would be something we could talk about (Dad is class of '83, go Navy, beat Army!). I got lucky, though, the tan Honda Civic waiting first in line for someone heading to my lot also had Naval Academy tags. I jumped into the passenger seat of the car ready and willing to get into it. We had to wait for a third rider before we left, so I (breaking the rules) started the conversation while we waited.
"Saw you had Naval Academy tags, you or your husband?" I asked ... I already had taken note of her wedding band.
"Both, actually!" she replied and our conversation was underway. We got our third rider and she and I talked the rest of the way.
She graduated from the USNA in 1993, her husband in 1994. They both ended up in the Air Force — he cross-commissioned (which never really looks good on your record) and she went Navy before heading to the Air Force. She told me stories about how her class did the Herndon in 93 minutes (great for the class of '93). For those of you who don't know what she means by "did the Herndon," I'll explain: The Herndon Monument is monument at the Academy that represents the acme of "plebe year" (freshman year). The monument is covered with lard at the end of the year and the plebes must climb it (usually by human pyramid) and replace a "dixie-cup" (plebe headwear) with a cover. This represents the end of their plebe year. If you type "herndon monument" in Google images, you can get an idea of what insanity it can be.
We also talked about Navy games, especially Army/Navy. I told her my father got season tickets to Navy home games and she told me to enjoy every minute of it. And we talked about Cantler's Riverside Inn, the best crab shack anyone will ever know.
I witnessed by first blown tire on the highway during this ride. Don't worry, it wasn't the car I was in. There was a truck about half a mile ahead of us and, since we were going downhill, we could see it pretty easily. A huge cloud of dust suddenly overwhelmed the entire spread of the highway. The driver nonchalantely said, "Ooooh, blown tire" and we watched cars go everywhere. Thankfully, the truck whose tire blew moved over to the shoulder very quick and no one got into accident. Business resumed as usual.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Labor Day
I have no slugging journal for this day. I did have to work but, because it was a federal holiday, there were no slug lines (those Pentagon kids had the day off). So, I instead had to drive 20 minutes up to the Franconia/Springfield Metro stop (the southernmost metro station), parked and took the Metro into downtown.
Normally you have to pay when you park in those garages, but I got to drive right out of it at the end of the day. Maybe they gave those people who had to work today a break. Or the gate guy forgot to put the gate down. Either way, I got the better end of the deal.
Normally you have to pay when you park in those garages, but I got to drive right out of it at the end of the day. Maybe they gave those people who had to work today a break. Or the gate guy forgot to put the gate down. Either way, I got the better end of the deal.
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