A lot of the posts I want to write about here are about the shared experience of us commuters, the downtrodden lot waiting in the cold for the Blue/Orange line train that isn't even on the board yet. The shared experience of silent bus riders squinting out of dark, dirty windows, trying to discern where we are on the highway, guessing by looming shapes emerging from the darkness. I want to write about scuttling downhill on the overpass, where the inch of snow became slick from the passing cars, making everyone walk like penguins, scrabbling for some traction.
But, really, that's not the kind of writer I am. I'm more the kind of writer that talks about the middle-aged security guard walking in front of me out of the Metro today, wearing one of the uniforms that you see all the time here in the Nation's Capitol, and carrying a bright pink Hello Kitty backpack. I love America.