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Mike and I have been trying the Bus/Metro thing since gas prices have gone up so high. I could lie and say I enjoy it, but I don’t. It takes longer and I don’t normally enjoy sitting/standing amongst all the sour faced commuters every morning. I want to feel better about saving gas and putting less miles on the Honda, but I’m selfish and I don’t. Also, its still marginally cheaper to drive, unless you start to figure in the cost of car maintenance. Either way, its a lose-lose situation out here with the commute. Doctors are right, the entire DC/MD/VA area is toxic to the soul, but thats a rant for another day.
Anyhooo, so Mike and I are on the metro heading to WFC when Mike decides to sit next to a woman who could best be described as Cruella DeVille with blonde, stringy, thinning hair, early 60’s, face pinched and wrinkled by apparently a life spent disapproving of other people.
A stop after we got on, a mother and her little daughter in a stroller boarded the metro. The girl was about Adam’s age and quite cute and perhaps a bit exuberant. Occassionally she would babble something out that was audible above the rumbling noise of the train. Honestly, after such a sh*tty day of feeling horrible and having horrendously uncomfortable PMS symptoms, watching a happy exchange was spirit lightening. Really. Even before we had Adam we both used to smile at toddlers with their parents after a long flight running “free” around the baggage claim areas. Ok, back to Cruella — and the book she was reading about little girls, which now that I look it up, makes this even funnier to me. Everytime little girl would make a noise that would pierce the noise of the train, Ms. DeVille would poke her rodent-like nose out of the book and squint evilly at the little girl and her mother. Every little noise would earn another equally vicious glare. Every glare sent me giggling hysterically. Mike kept looking at me like I’d lost my mind, but I was really too polite to say out loud that he was sitting next to Time’s Bitch of the Year Award recipient. At least until we were out of ear-shot of Ms. DeVille.
Why, oh why was she sooo hilarious to me? Why? WHY?! It is because, I finally concluded that one could only laugh at such a miserable old woman. How can you have such disdain and open malice for a kid who will very likely grow up to pay taxes to subsidize her miserable retirement?
Like I started out saying, Northern Virginia is a toxic environment. If the occassional noise of one tiny toddler on the metro turns your crows feet into black ugly lines, and you store such malice for someone who interrupts your reading, then you have lost what was left of your twisted, blackened, wizened soul. And I enjoyed every minute of her discomfort because it was completely unnecessary.
Before you all jump on me and say “but…but tourists from the lily-white flyover states and children and religious proselytizers are annoying, and public transit should be quiet and well ordered and strollers take up space and I hate tourists and kids suck and the world is over-populated and I’m going to hate everything that isn’t me and mine and STAND RIGHT WALK LEFT”
Uh-huh.
Toxic.
Except for that stand right, walk left thing. People really oughtta get a clue.