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It’s story time. Sit back and relax.

I went down to Washington DC to watch the fireworks, just like every year for the seven years I’ve lived in Maryland. The draw is indescribable - big crowds, great food, and then the show - as a life-long pyromaniac, this is very satisfying.

I was close to the action, as I’ve had a few years to figure out the very best spot to be. I was so close, in fact, that I had to wash soot from my arms and legs when I got home, as the fallout rained down on me heavily. The area I was at was littered with unburned cardboard shell casings.

Little did I know that the best, this year, was yet to come.

Let me make this perfectly clear: ONLY MORONS DRIVE THEIR CARS INTO DC ON THE FOURTH OF JULY. If you’re a real moron, you now have a new goal. Being a moron, you’ll love being stuck in traffic for three or more hours as the streets fill with pedestrians. Since I don’t qualify as a moron, I of course took the Metro subway.

The Metro, on the Fourth of July, has some good points and bad points. For once, the trains seemed be be running fairly quickly this year. Most of the people were probably out of the city by the time those morons stuck in their cars on 12th and G streets had moved half a mile. But the bad part is the people.

The Fourth of July in DC is an odd day in the sense that there are lots of people in town (and using the Metro) who only come to DC once every year (or less). In other words, tourists.

There’s nothing wrong with tourists as a whole, but you don’t want to be stuck behind twenty of them in a line to get a fare card. They don’t know how the machines work, they realize they don’t know how much money to put in, and send their kids off to read the fare map, and they’re generally confused by the system. Then they get upset when they try to buy a $5 card with a $20 dollar bill from a machine that will give you a maximum of $5 change. It says so in big letters.

Because of this, getting into DC is cumbersome. Getting out is much worse, for different reasons. Mainly, there’s a million people trying to leave the city all at once. Here begins my story.

I get on the Metro at Metro Center. It’s damn crowded, but being very familiar with DC on the Fourth, and knowing my way around the Metro, I know exactly what to expect: nuts-to-butts crowdedness, hundreds of sweaty people in every direction packed like sardines, and a crowd of which 80% or more did not know what to expect.

I have another advantage: I’m alone. The wife doesn’t like crowd scenes and that’s completely cool with me. It makes getting around quicker - even if you’re with someone who’s just as fast, and in a hurry as you, two people move slower than one in this kind of crowd.

The red line and green line are sharing track, as they’ve re-routed the entire system in order to more efficiently serve the busiest Metro day of the year. This is the first time they’ve done that, and it did help quite a bit. My car is at the College Park station, which is nearly at the end of the Green line. The first bus that comes to Metro Center, however, is red.

Being a Metro-savvy guy, rather than wait in the sweltering and sweat-laden Metro Center for a green line train, I take the red line to Brookland CUA, with the intention of switching trains there, rather than at a more crowded station.

At Brookland, I get out and wait for a green line train to come. The first one is red, and when it stops, more people get off, some of which are also waiting for a green line train. This happens for the next five trains or so. Some of the tourists are getting bitchy; this isn’t unusual, American tourists who come to DC on the Fourth generally expect shit to work exactly like they think it should, and are generally a whining lot when what I consider to be completely normal delays occur. The busiest Metro day of the year would just be a typically brisk Fridaycrowd at the London Underground in comparison - the suburbanite tourists, many of whom wouldn’t set foot in DC on any other day, don’t know how fucking good they have it. Jabbing another dude with your genderportions due to crowdedness is a rare occurrence on the Metro. In London, I had intimate relations with the purses of several ladies I never even met, we were packed in so tight.

So by the sixth train (I think), it’s finally a green line train. The crowd rushes forward…
…and falls back, seeing that the trains are “full”. Again, having seen the Underground, I know that these “full” trains could hold about 50% more people if they would just use their space more efficiently and quit bitching. So after the crowd eases back, the small numbers of people who aren’t going to let a few tourists push them around go for the doors. I’m one of them.

Me and two strangers-in-arms head forward, to be met by a slightly pudgy pasty-white guy in his 40s who’s wearing a “patriotic” T-shirt. In other words:
Tourist.
I’ll call him Fred, for simplicity. I’d say he was about 5′10″ and 210lbs.

He is my enemy, that which I must pass to gain entry to the vehicle of my deliverance. I boldly step forward and wrangle for space, politely but insistently urging people in the middle of the bus to move in. Fred is before me. I size him up, and since I’m of a median build at 6′ and 180lbs, Fred is a worthy opponent, but not insurmountable by any means. I see a place I know I can fit in, but Fred positions himself in front of me. I feign right, then move left - Fred will not be so easily tricked. Wherever I aim my body, Fred’s elbow is there, foiling my maneuver. When I try to gain ground, his forearm sabotages my efforts. He says something to me, and I think it included the word “asshole”, but I’m paying attention to the the goal, not the goalee. I tell him, in my most civil, polite voice, “Sir, I will be getting on this train”. Eventually, as his arm blocks me for many seconds, I give up. I step back, slowly turn around…
…and then quickly turn back around, again feign right and move left, and … I’M IN! Well, most of me, anyway, I’ve still got to get my left leg in. Fred’s footwork was too late to even have an effect, and I pop myself the rest of the way in.

Then to further illustrate the point that what most people call a “full” Metro train doesn’t live up to my definition, I use some prodding to make sure the other two people who decided to brave the train nazis could get on.

It was a slow, quiet ride to the College Park station, but eventually, the trip ended. As we slowed and the doors opened, many people including myself edged toward the doors.

I turned around and said to him: “It’s been a pleasure riding with you, sir.” A few people chuckled.

Fred says, “I told you it was too damn crowded, asshole.”

And then in one of those moments where you think of the exact right thing to say at the exact right time, I said, “I’ll give your Elbow of Doom Kung Fu maneuver four out of five stars, but I’m afraid I can only award your lackluster repartee one out of five stars. Thanks for playing, and good night!”

Lots of people laughed their asses off, including some of the people who were initially annoyed at my perseverance in getting on, and I smiled and blushed as I left the train. I believe Fred’s look can be best described as “seriously pissed”.