When I arrived back in the US on Saturday, Dulles airport was a zoo. Apparently there had been thunderstorms holding many flights at bay, so when we landed, the line for Naturalization & Customs was RIDICULOUS.
Seasoned travelers around me groaned with impatience, all of us exuding the unmistakable (and un-maskable) Eau d’Plane. Unfortunately, we had a 45 minute wait ahead of us before getting our passports stamped for re-entry, so we just prayed that olfactory fatigue would kick in sooner rather than later.
After finally clearing Customs, I decided to take the Metro bus into the city, rather than springing for a more convenient (and $50 more expensive) cab ride. That meant kicking back and waiting 25 minutes for the next bus, which I did with a surprising amount of patience.
By the time the bus arrived, there was a sizable crowd waiting to board. As one of the first in line, I secured a seat near the front. Which ended up being the perfect vantage point for what was about to unfold. Across from me, a friendly guy with graying hair and a Boston accent sat down.
The bus started to fill up, and more passengers pushed to squeeze on. I made eye contact with a woman about my mom’s age and gestured to my seat. She declined the offer.
The bus was filled to capacity and two more people (toting large suitcases like everyone else) tried to force their way on, but there simply no room. Every seat was taken and people were wedged butt-to-butt in the aisle.
It felt almost like this. ALMOST.
pithypants 