Lil Wayne and chicken wings. Metro, congrats- you class up the bus.

So you'd think that I've run out of cool bus stories since I've been riding my bike- not the case. Just last night, a bus nearly hit me. It's awesome - it's like they don't think they have to wait for anyone, just swerve right into the bike lanes like they own it. Best when you have nowhere to go, and are going downhill.

So the other day, I had an awesome time with the metro. Overtired, hungover, and inadvertently biking on a highway while trying to get home in time to leave and go babysit, I was not in the mood to deal with WMATA's stellar service. On a Saturday morning, I know it will be bad, but I needed to be in Crystal City, and straight up didn't know how to get there on my bike. In retrospect, I would've figured it out.

I got to the Potomac Ave. metro, and snuggled up next to an oversized man who smelled of chicken wings and old tobacco while we waited for 18 minutes for an orange line train to come. Of course, I needed the blue line. Thinking I should get on a train if it's there, I planned to transfer at L'enfant Plaza. Once I got there, there was no indication of whether a yellow line train was coming at all (the one I needed), but it did have 3 different green lines posted (what, do you think I'm crazy? I listen to Glenn Beck, damnit. Wait, what?). I waited it out about 5 minutes before a notice popped up: yellow line train, 19 minutes. Ugh! I was so late already and my head was spinning and I was trying to stabilize myself on the pink bike... terrible. Long story short... the indicators changed their mind four times before a yellow line train showed up unannounced 15 minutes later.

At least I got there safelyish. On the way back, it was much cooler. After waiting out the delays (not sure why their delays last all day), I got on a yellow train where I sat in the back of the train. This is much worse than the back of the bus, but I had no idea. Covered in cigarette ash, mud, and ketchup, I was careful not to shift at all. It's amazing- considering you can't smoke in the metro, there sure it lots of evidence of it! Do people juts pull ash out of their pocket and sprinkle it around because it's funny?

The only good part of this seat is that it lets me read over people's shoulders. This is the best way of reading the back pages of the Express (the only pages worth reading, of course). But when "Express" lady left, I was left with "Bomb" guy. He's named this because when I peered over his shoulder to read the time off his iphone, I discovered he was actually staring at a timer on the phone, ticking backwards from 5 minutes. A little creepy. But I really did freak out a little when the train stopped abruptly and the unusually articulate metro lady announces that the train will be moving shortly, that we have enountered a red signal (or alert or something). No description of what that means, except I know that we're stopped in the middle of a tunnel in a red signal with a dude whose iphone is counting down.

I never learned what happened, but was relieved when the timer ran out and I was still alive. Because- hell- I needed to live in order to witness the female Lil Wayne who greeted me on the way out of the metro with a "Daaaaayyyym, she phat (fat? I dunno, I'm giving myself the benefit of the doubt) on that bike." With her scrappy build, gold teeth, interesting hairstyle, and face tattoos, she was far more intimidating than your average male sexual predator. I rode away while she was verbally assaulting a group of college girls with a "Damn, I lub dem blue eyes and dat blonde hair," while gyrating her hips towards the air. It was glorious.