adventures in metro

Gentle Reader(s)---

You may be saying to yourselves: Ah, I am glad Emily is a) warm and b) now has a new tire. I am glad she has not had any more terrifying-yet-amusing-adventures, yet only a day has passed, so I hold out hope.

I say unto you all: WAIT NO LONGER!

Today I went to a lovely gathering with friends, where we played round-upon-round of Super Smash Bros. Brawl (read: addictive Wii game) which I did surprisingly well at, and then board games - all very fun. As we were to leave, I was nervous: I had a very long Metro trip ahead of me (hour +) but was assured by all that the Yellow Line train would wait for me -- as it waits for all transfers. Buoyed by this, I headed out later than usual with a group, and then exited at my transfer point.

At this point, I was told that I needed to get back on the train and transfer at another station. Odd, but I follow directions well. Exiting at the other station, I headed up to where my train should have been, to wait for the transfer. Imagine my surprise when a station officer comes over to me and -- while I recount my past half-hour of transfering -- is absolutely incredulous. What am I talking about? The Yellow Line left a half-hour ago. There is no other train.

What?

At this point, there was literally no place for me to go. I am at L'Enfant Plaza, and while being there is lovely if one wishes to visit the Smithsonian, at 12:30 at night on a Sunday it is, shall we say, deserted.

It is also 40° outside, and I had a thin hoodie.   I enclose the picture because I stared at it for an inordinately long time.  Insert darkness and cold concrete!

Fortunately -- and for this I am utterly grateful! -- two friends came to pick me up (in my popsicle state) and another talked to me in the meantime. Before I knew it (real time: 1/2 hour!) I was in a warm backseat of a car, headed across a bridge towards Virginia.

Apparently I can't even head home without it becoming some kind of adventure!