The Set Up:
My credit card was apparently compromised and I was sent a new one. Being the freak that I am, I didn’t cut up the old one once I activated the new one because I was afraid I’d cut up the wrong one.
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Wile Steve was in town last week I became very accustomed to taking the T from West Falls Church Metro Station into D.C. I don’t care if nobody in D.C. knows what I’m talking about when I say “take the T,” it is what comes naturally to me. People in Boston understand when you say metro or subway! Train, Transit, meTro, mbTa. It’s the T. Deal with it. But I digress.
So I went on a date last night with a guy I met on Match. He invited me to meet him for a drink in DuPont Circle. That, so far with my limited knowledge of D.C., is my absolute favorite place to party. So I pack a wallet sized clutch with my (new VA) drivers license, my (ahem) credit card, and my phone. And lip gloss. I dress in my best “I’m not trying too hard” date outfit and drive to West Falls, which is about a 10-15 minute drive. I get there, I park, and I leave my car and realize that I forgot my stupid stinking Metro card. That’s ok, I think, because I can just buy another one, even though I have TWO partially used ones from when Steve was in town and in my frazzled dumbness I temporarily lost the first one and then found it again. But oh wait! I think, when I drove Steve to the airport, he gave me his, and I stuck it in my dashboard! He told me that he had put $6 on it and didn’t know how much was left since the machine didn’t print clearly how much was left after he used it once. “Great,” I think,” I’ll use this to get down there. I can always buy a new one to get back if it’s not enough.”
So I’m on my date, and it’s going well enough so far. Hello Handsome! He was adorable and I was having a great time talking to him. When he excused himself for the bathroom, I offered to grab us another drink. Oh, and wasn’t my card declined. In disbelief that I had grabbed the wrong card, I had the bartender try it an additional two times. Well, that’s embarrassing. My date came back and I vaguely explained to him about my card, feeling like a dumbass making a lame first impression. I shrugged it off though. It was fun and going better than I’ve learned to expect from my online first dates.
We carried on and drank that one and another before he suggested we call it a night. The metro closes at midnight and I looked at my phone and saw that it was 11:40. Oops! Thankfully he was minding the time because I certainly was not. We walked out, hugged, said we’d do it again and went our separate ways. Now, DuPont is on the Red Line. I am on the Orange. Since I was cutting it so close, I walked down to Farragut North, which is one stop from the Orange line. He walked north to DuPont Circle stop, in the other direction. As I hustled down the street one large city block, I (thankfully) had the mind to pull out my metro card. It clearly printed this time that I had $.60. Efffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. I texted my dearly departed date and told him that I need help. He met me back toward where he was and gave me his card with about $7 on it. Feeling more and more like an asshole now, I am getting closer and closer to missing the last train out of D.C. So I hustled back down now a city block and a half, passing the same bums and drunkards I had now passed 3 times, whistling, asking where the party was, offering me a ride and general bothersomeness. So I make it down to the Farragut train station at 11:50 now, and the effing gates are closed. TEN MINUTES EARLY!!!!! Are you serious!! This can’t be happening. I am now texting my date, updating him, texting Lisa that I need help, and going over my options in my head. I can take a cab to my apartment in McLean which is a half hour at least from town and then get my card, take the cab to an ATM so that I may pay him, and take said cab to my car in West Falls. It will probably cost me about $100. Taking it to my car would only be about $20 but that’s not an option unfortunately. No money. My plan with Lisa is to have her ready for me with cash, embarrass myself in front of Matt, sleep on their couch and get myself to a T tomorrow to get to my car. My date, bless his heart, is offering to go home and get his car and come get me. He would have, too. He was such a gentleman. My embarrassment with him had been bad enough though and I would only have considered that if Lisa didn’t answer her phone.
Side note, I am petrified to be downtown by myself at night because a month or two ago I was in the same area wandering around looking for where I had parked my car, not finding it because I had no idea where I was and had no sense of direction, I was accosted by an aggressive guy propositioning me like I was a prostitute and it was one of times I have ever been the most scared for my safety.
Any who, I RAN, past all of the people who had now seen me leave the bar, passes them again to get a train ticket, walk back again to get the train at Farragut, and now RUN to DuPont Circle. The escalator was off (this one is about the size of the one in Porter Square, like 9 stories high) and I RAN down it. I thought I was going to fall forward but I kept going. I got to the platform and made the first train but now I had to go TWO stops to the orange line, and you know how it is at train stations figuring out what stairs to go up and down and over and under platforms trying to get on the right side of the right one. Wouldn’t you know that I caught the last red line and then the last orange one?
The guys getting on the train behind me were celebrating at the announcement that this was the last train and I looked up and recognized them as the men who had asked me where the Metro was while I was making the final leg of my journey through the square the 4th and final time. I arrogantly had assumed that they were just asking me a stupid question so that I would talk to them like everyone else I had encountered in those 20 minutes and pointed behind me and said it was closed as I didn’t look up from my texting and headed up to DuPont. They really were looking for the train. Like me. A big group of us got into talking and someone asked me what I would have done if I didn’t make that train. Well, funny you should ask. I told them about my compromised credit card and how making the train had been my only option and thank the lord I was on it. One guy, separated from me by only a few rows of seats, got up and stood in front of me to talk about identity theft. He was a massive young man and I took him to be a nice guy who likes to talk to everyone. He asked if he could sit down next to me. Of course. He had a sore or zit on the corner of his mouth that I tried not to notice while he droned on for about 20 minutes about how unprotected everything you do and talk about online and in emails is. I was interested for probably the first 5 and then became worn out trying to fake interest. Then he said, “Give me your email. I’ll send you some stuff.” What?? I said. “Give me your email. I’ll send you some stuff.” “Oh that’s ok,” I said, “If that’s something I’m actually going to do I can figure it out on my own.” His Then he started explaining to me the program that he would have sent me in the email.
Meanwhile, this woman who was dressed like the elderly Betsey Johnson of Marshalls was talking to her now second victim about scholarships for multilingual students! There's no age limit either! I would have felt bad for these guys but the second one, whose conversation I was now observing since my bench-mate had woken up the guy sleeping to his left and was talking his ear off, seemed to be enjoying it and touching her unnecessarily. “You call me and I’ll take your daughter on a tour of the campus!!” She was saying. It was all very bizzar.
I made it back in one piece, all ending well. Sheesh. Happy New Year!
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