by Jon Lewallen
Every morning I wake up at 7 a.m. (7:30) and prepare for the day. This involves two things: cursing that my roommate is in the shower and has been for the last twenty minutes, and hoping I don�t miss the bus. I ride the bus to the Metro (DC�s subway system) because, despite the fact that I live a mile away, I�m lazy. The bus, I feel, gets a bad rap in the movies and on TV. Protagonists never take the bus unless they have to, like if their car is broken or it will explode if they don�t. But what about those of us who take the bus out of convenience? Where�s our movie? (NOTE: Please ignore the 1988 movie �Next Stop, Palm Springs� starring John Lithgow.)
Finally, I arrive at the Metro. Imagine New York�s subway, but with fewer stops and frequency. That�s DC�s Metro. But at least it�s cleaner. So clean, in fact, that they arrest you for eating near the entrance. Riding the Metro, and indeed likely any subway system, teaches one many things about oneself and others. And there is one particular thing I�ve learned on the Metro: that I loathe tourists. And I sense that I�m not alone. Tourists take up space, they�re loud, and they�re perpetually lost and confused. So that you don�t think I�m a heartless monster, I�ll address each of these points in turn.
Tourists take up space. This is a huge issue for Metro riders. Huge. Metro cars hold a modicum of seats, but there are some who would be willing to give their plasma for one. It�s a particular issue during rush hour, when ridership approximates the population of Guam. Those who are fortunate to find a seat during rush hour rejoice and decide to ride to the end of the line in celebration. Everyone else must stand. Those who stand spend the duration of their train ride eyeing those seated, looking for any indication that this is their next stop, and they will be vacating the seat. Tourists throw the whole system out of order. There typically anywhere from four to six tourists in any group, a mixture of parents, grandparents and children. Woe unto the Metro rider who encounters a class field trip. Every tourist must also remain seated, even the 10-year-old child, otherwise he will complain. Meanwhile, the 57-year-old woman who works for the Department of Education and will process that child�s application for a college grant, she must stand, wearily counting the days until she can move up a pay grade.
Tourists are loud. Time spent on the Metro is quiet time. Riders do not talk to others, unless they know each other, but even then such behavior is frowned upon and restricted to the evening rush hour. In the morning everything is quiet. Tourists repeatedly violate this silence, and my naps (on the rare and blissful occasion I get a seat), by discussing how much they liked the Holocaust Museum or by asking a DC resident where the Smithsonian is. HINT: Perhaps it is at the �Smithsonian� Metro stop.
Tourists are always lost. Always. A Washington Post article some months back detailed how the bare, generally unadorned Metro station interiors confuse tourists. They�re confused because the signs leading out of the stations say unhelpful things like �17th Street,� �P Street,� �Arena� and �Museums,� with arrows pointing in the proper direction. How can one possibly expect to navigate that murky terrain?
So you see, tourism is a plague on DC�s public transportation. I hereby call for separate trains, one marked �residents� and one marked �tourists.� The �residents� train will feature plentiful seating, complimentary pillows and an in-ride movie (�Next Stop, Palm Springs,� starring John Lithgow). The �tourist� train will feature the conductor telling the tourists where to get off, specifically, at the Smithsonian stop. In fact, it will be a loop of nothing but �You want to get off at Smithsonian. You want to get off at Smithsonian. You want�� I�m sure you will agree that this is the best course of action. Because hey, segregation was a good idea, right? Right? Oh.
Fighting Spirit...p. 4
Neighborhood Watch...p. 4
Message from the President...FRONT
Pine Oaks Book Club...p. 3
Welcome Wagon...FRONT
This Month in Pine Oaks...FRONT
Young Person's Perspective...p. 5