F*cking Monday, F*cking Metro

Today started so innocently. The clerk at Firehook gave me the wrong kind of tea. And then the very important package was delayed due to security, and my co-counsel was VERY CONCERNED. But I tracked it down, triumphantly.

Work was busy, and I got distracted with drafting a motion. It was going well. So well that I didn't even think to take lunch until well after 2. I quickly ate my crappy lunch, and then went back to work on the brief.

Sometime after 4, my mom called, upset, due to difficulties with her uncle, who has dementia, and who she's pretty much taking care of with very little help from anyone else in the family. So, I stopped to talk to her, and forgot to save my brief.

When I was getting ready to leave -- at a normal hour -- I printed it out. But I noticed a typo, so I went to reopen it and fix it.

It wasn't there, surprise, surprise.

But at least I had a hard copy. So I spent the next couple of hours reconstructing it from the hard copy (read: retyping every word and every single legal citation). All this while my next-door office neighbor entertained his very young son. It was, well, distracting.

Finally, at around 8 pm, I finished. I made sure to save my work this time. And then I painstakingly assembled the motion, brief, exhibits, and proposed order to be filed tomorrow morning. I recycled my last Diet Coke can, and headed out the door.

Of course, that meant heading out to Metro, which, unbeknownst to me, was pretty much shut down -- again. First they said it was just green and yellow lines. But that's easy for me: I can take blue. So, I went to Metro Center, and hopped on a blue line train.

That was the worst decision I made all day. I should have taken a cab. You see, the blue line trains were all stopping at Arlington Cemetery -- which, in the dark, is not an easy walk to my apartment.

But Metro was running shuttle buses, right? Well, yes -- at least that's what they were announcing. Too bad the station manager had no idea what we were talking about, or any clue where to direct us. So there we were, hundreds of people waiting around at Arlington Cemetery. The crowd was insane, and enraged.

Finally, two buses pulled up -- on what was, logically speaking, the wrong side of the street (i.e. heading back towards D.C.). All of a sudden, people ran across four lanes of traffic, and were pushing and shoving to get on the buses. Some small kid almost got trampled. And the bus drivers weren't sure where they were supposed to go at first. So the buses just sat there, full of people.

The crowd was getting restless. People were yelling. The touristy girls near me were amused, they kept taking pictures with their cell phone cameras. I actually said to them to not take a picture of me, because my day had been bad enough. (I did, however, quietly suggest that they take a picture of the crazy guy in the ill-fitting suit who was kneeling on his bus seat pretending that the window was a piano, playing along to whatever crazy music he was listening to on his headphones. I'm not sure if they took my advice.)

Later, much later, the shuttle bus pulled up to Pentagon City. There were firetrucks everywhere, and the traffic was busy for this time of night. Once I got into the mall, pretty much everything except McDonald's was already closed.

I walked the rest of the way home, and got in my apartment about 15 minutes ago. Just long enough to have flipped open the computer and written this. I haven't eaten, and I'm in need of a shower from the whole experience. But instead, I'm going to sleep early, just to make sure that today can't get any worse.

Thank god for Tuesdays.

I. Am. So. Embarrassed.

Dara, Dara, Dara -- what were you thinking? Just because it's a balmy 80 degrees outside doesn't mean you -- of all people -- should wear a skirt. Or go outdoors.

But, no, you chose to disregard conventional wisdom by both wearing a skirt AND going outdoors. Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Did I forget to mention that it was breezy?

So, perhaps you should have paid attention -- remembering that you were, indeed, wearing a skirt -- and tried to hold it down. Otherwise, everyone standing nearby might have gotten a brief glimpse of your underwear.

Yet another crazy lunch story

Since I'm not exactly getting peppered with questions, I've decided to devote a couple minutes to writing about my most recent lunchtime controversy.

Yesterday, I had a quick appointment in between Farragut West and Foggy Bottom. I decided that I'd walk there and back, and grab lunch along the way back to my office, since the weather was divine -- probably for the last time until next Spring.

Plus, it seemed like an excellent day to walk down by the White House.

So, on the way back, I stopped to grab a sandwich at Cosi, as I am wont to do. I decided, fat and calories be damned, I was going to try the Turkey Bacon Cheddar Melt. I ordered, and specifically asked them to hold the honey mustard (I hate mustard) and to put the sandwich on the new Etruscan whole-wheat bread.

During the fifteen-minute walk back to my office with the sandwich, I was so excited about that sandwich. The Cosi next door to my office has been closed for so long that I had almost forgotten how good their bread tastes.

I got back to my office, grabbed a Diet Coke, and finally sat down at my desk to eat my sandwich. Of course, it was absolutely drenched in honey mustard.

I called the Cosi, and at first, they were uncooperative. They said that I could walk down there and get a replacement sandwich. I explained that the whole process would take at least a half-hour of my time, which was unacceptable. They offered to have a sandwich sent out to me, if I waited until after the lunch rush was over -- but they had no idea what time that would be. I reluctantly agreed, and was transferred to a manager.

Of course, the manager chose a different route. She unilaterally decided that it would not be possible to deliver a sandwich to me, no matter how long I was willing to wait. Instead, she said that my next four sandwiches at that location would be free. She took my name, e-mail address, and other information, and promised me that she would send me something to confirm ASAP.

I gave the sandwich to one of the newbies in the office, and then went downstairs to Au Bon Pain to get a Thai Chicken Salad. As always, it was perfectly okay, but it just wasn't what I wanted.

It's about 30 hours later, and I still haven't received any e-mail from Cosi. The bastards.

Lunchtime random behavior

Picture this: Lunchtime, recently. A smallish girl with dark hair in a ponytail walks into a neighborhood eatery wearing jeans, black Converse sneakers, a gray zip-front hooded sweatshirt, and this t-shirt:

How old would you think she was? And what kind of job would you think she had?

Apparently, the answers are neither "30" nor "lawyer."

So yeah, earlier this week, I had this experience. I went to go get lunch -- and paid with exact change, from my pocket. Clearly, I must have looked my youngest, poorest, and most forlorn, because the cashier, seemingly feeling sorry for me, threw me a giant chocolate chip cookie while I was waiting for my to-go order.

On second thought, maybe he recognized me because I pick up lunch or dinner from this establishment at least once a week.

Still, it makes me wonder -- exactly what kind of vibe do I give off?