The Swarm

Okay, a quick rant about plagues and other things.

So, last year here in DC (and along much of the mid-Atlantic coast) we witnessed the phenomenon of the cicada.

Ooooh, the cicada. Every seventeen years they hatch and roam free about the city, leaving their eggs and their crusty shells everywhere. Everywhere! Cicada shells everywhere! Don't step on the larvae, because they only get one chance to mate...

Right, no -- all sensationalism aside, it was pretty cool in an "I-got-a-microscope-and telescope-for my birthday-when-I-was-eight-because-I-like science" way.

What I was thinking about today, however, was, wouldn't it be cool if that other phenomenon to hit DC happened only every seventeen years, so that maybe we'd actually appreciate it for it's novelty?

That, just like the cicada plague, we would wait, and count down, and write articles about the onset, the invasion, the hatching of...

THE MIDWESTERN TOURISTS.

Because they are all Midwestern, you know they are. And even if they are not actually, GEOGRAPHICALLY Midwestern, then they are in spirit.

This morning on my way to work I got up to the exit turnstile to leave the Metro station, and a woman and her two moon-faced daughters were blocking not one, but three --- three! of the turnstiles. Now, I actually do understand why New Yorkers get confused about our Metro system. You need a card to get on AND to get off. In NY, of course, you only need it to get on. It does take some getting used to. But for real out-of-towners, you'd think they'd prep ahead of time. Read a guidebook or something. Learn a bit about the lay of the land.

The girls were each standing in a turnstile, and the mom was in the middle one. They seemed to be having a debate about which one she should go through. And so they were frozen. Not going in, not going out. Almost headed up to the cityscape above, but somehow reluctant, comforted perhaps by the dark of the station, and the blinking lights and glowing signs that tell you what to do and where to go. It probably reminded them of a shopping mall. It even has escalators. When they are working.

This, however, was nothing compared to what I witnessed yesterday. I was coming in from Silver Spring, and one or two stops after I got on (maybe the Catholic U stop?) a group starts to board. There are many of them -- they have large poufy hair, and color coordinated outfits, little keds sneakers and colored socks and camera bags -- and they are chatting it up, just chirping away as the doors burp open and they make their way in:

"Oh it's so cool on here, oooh that does feel good, oh let's get those seats over there, and where is it we are getting off..." *ding dong* the bell sounds, indicating the closing doors and....

"Wait, wait -- oh my goodness, we left Lucy on the platform! Driver, driver -- we left Lucy! Out friend is..."

The driver ignored them, and well, attended to his job of driving the eight car train he is responsible for.

"Sir, sir -- our friend! What will she do??!!"

We pulled away, and I have to say, the image of this middle aged woman, completely baffled, standing on the platform...I couldn't help but smile. You can't write stuff better than this.

She wasn't really alarmed, she just seemed confused...

"Lucy turned away to look at something -- and now we lost her! She couldn't get on the train!"

"Well, I'll get off at the next stop and then get on the next train"

"But what if she doesn't even get on to the next train".

For whatever reason cell phones didn't seem to be an option.

The train continued on, the women debated their options, and I imagined Lucy, Lucy roaming through the hood surrounding the Rhode Island avenue stop, Lucy, Lucy wandering into the gay clubs of SW, Lucy, Lucy crunking in NE to the sounds of go-go.... Lucy. We barely knew ya.