We arrived at the station, to find, pure unmitigated chaos. Cop cars everywhere, traffic in every direction, people walking in and out of the traffic; it reminded me of a few Phish and music festivals that I have been too, except it was in the middle of a city and not Farmer Bob’s back yard. After a spin around the area, it was apparent that parking here was not an really an option so we kicked Brian’s arse to the curb so he could get into the city first, and said “See you at some point!”
Leaving me and Gordo in charge of finding legitimate parking may not have been Brian’s wisest choice of the weekend. We found the first questionable lot not occupied by police and parked the car, said a prayer and headed out. The station was about ¾ of a mile from where we parked. We traveled about half way there when it dawned on me, “Wait, I do not seem to have my ticket.” This earned me the D-Bag Day award.
Once we finally got to the Metro station, the chaos only intensified. There was a pedestrian walkway over the road from the parking garage to the station that had probably about 500-600 people in some semblance of a line and only one Metro employee telling everyone where to go. This worked for the first two minutes we were there. I was standing in line while Gordo went in search of Metro tickets and about 20 bus loads of people came pouring into the corridor blowing up any sense of order and the line that was previously established. I eventually reconnected with Gordo and we headed onto the train which was overflowing with people. After getting on the Ghost Train, I looked around and exclaimed, “Wow, sure are a lot of Wizards fans! Are you all going to the game too?” Hilarity ensued.
Here is a tip for anyone who finds themselves in a spot where you are getting on to a Metro train which is carrying about 23 times its capacity… don’t take a spot at the doors. Gordo and I were “lucky” enough to be right in the door way with three lovely ladies from the South who had a fascination with delivering huge steaming piles of unnecessary sass and beating dead horses.
The train was already filled to capacity and at every stop there were even more people trying to get on. But with our fearless Queens of Sass, nobody was getting into the train through our car. They implemented the infamous Wall of Sass defense. They positioned themselves in a way to prevent anyone from getting through. Anyone that is except for Yonosh, Alexander’s grandmother from Armenia. Apparently she was the enforcer on the Armenian National Hockey Team.
At first the Wall of Sass prevented her from getting onto the car, but not without a lot of bickering and arguing while the doors were open. The doors then shut. And then they opened again. When the doors started to shut again, Yonosh made her move. She jumped from the platform, through the doors and the doors actually closed on her. The Wall of Sass started screaming and yelling and squealing – Yonosh started literally throwing elbows and clawing her way in, physically grabbing on to Wall and pulling herself in. And she somehow was able to pull herself into the car. All in all it was very impressive seeing as she about 132 years old.
The second set of perpetrators were two gentlemen They also forced their way into the car, using a combination of pushing and shoving and by the power of the spoken word – in the form of obscenities and inappropriate language not suited to be displayed here. The next two hours went by something like this:
To the old lady, the Wall of Sass would run a rant off like so:
“Lady you should not be doing things like that! You are old you hear me? You are lucky that we are not violent people and have respect for old people otherwise we would have gotten physical with you up in here.”
They would then turn to the two gents and fire off some spite in their direction:
“How would you feel if some guy did that to your daughter or mother or sister or wife or girlfriend? You would knock someone out if they did what you did, evil doer. Well, you sir are a shame to all men everywhere and you are lucky that we did not get violent on you too”
Then, the women would turn to each other and amicably talk about their children or the weather, etc. and then BOOM… they were back at it. They would take turns lobbing verbal assault after verbal assault at these people. As if constantly running the D-Bag Bus back and forth over these people were not enough, the women decided to take photos of the “train crashers” so they could “Show everyone back home the rude and dangerous people they met on the train” (yes that is an exact quote) This lead to the perhaps the best exchange:
Man with sunglasses: “Look, if you had laid your hands on me, I would have knocked you out woman and I ain’t playin’ either.”
Wall of Sass ringleader: “Boy, I would kick your ass into next Tuesday”.
Man with sunglasses: “Shit, you ain’t got nothin’ you old feisty bitch”
Nothing like a good old fashioned verbal fisticuffs to get yourself in the mood for a once in a lifetime historic, world changing event.
Deciding that we had about enough of this stupid women, we decided to get off at Metro Center, about 32 stops early figuring that armed with maps and directions there should be little problem figuring out where we needed to be.
Riiiiiiiiiigggggggggghhhhhhttttttttttt.
Leaving me and Gordo in charge of finding legitimate parking may not have been Brian’s wisest choice of the weekend. We found the first questionable lot not occupied by police and parked the car, said a prayer and headed out. The station was about ¾ of a mile from where we parked. We traveled about half way there when it dawned on me, “Wait, I do not seem to have my ticket.” This earned me the D-Bag Day award.
Once we finally got to the Metro station, the chaos only intensified. There was a pedestrian walkway over the road from the parking garage to the station that had probably about 500-600 people in some semblance of a line and only one Metro employee telling everyone where to go. This worked for the first two minutes we were there. I was standing in line while Gordo went in search of Metro tickets and about 20 bus loads of people came pouring into the corridor blowing up any sense of order and the line that was previously established. I eventually reconnected with Gordo and we headed onto the train which was overflowing with people. After getting on the Ghost Train, I looked around and exclaimed, “Wow, sure are a lot of Wizards fans! Are you all going to the game too?” Hilarity ensued.
Here is a tip for anyone who finds themselves in a spot where you are getting on to a Metro train which is carrying about 23 times its capacity… don’t take a spot at the doors. Gordo and I were “lucky” enough to be right in the door way with three lovely ladies from the South who had a fascination with delivering huge steaming piles of unnecessary sass and beating dead horses.
The train was already filled to capacity and at every stop there were even more people trying to get on. But with our fearless Queens of Sass, nobody was getting into the train through our car. They implemented the infamous Wall of Sass defense. They positioned themselves in a way to prevent anyone from getting through. Anyone that is except for Yonosh, Alexander’s grandmother from Armenia. Apparently she was the enforcer on the Armenian National Hockey Team.
At first the Wall of Sass prevented her from getting onto the car, but not without a lot of bickering and arguing while the doors were open. The doors then shut. And then they opened again. When the doors started to shut again, Yonosh made her move. She jumped from the platform, through the doors and the doors actually closed on her. The Wall of Sass started screaming and yelling and squealing – Yonosh started literally throwing elbows and clawing her way in, physically grabbing on to Wall and pulling herself in. And she somehow was able to pull herself into the car. All in all it was very impressive seeing as she about 132 years old.
The second set of perpetrators were two gentlemen They also forced their way into the car, using a combination of pushing and shoving and by the power of the spoken word – in the form of obscenities and inappropriate language not suited to be displayed here. The next two hours went by something like this:
To the old lady, the Wall of Sass would run a rant off like so:
“Lady you should not be doing things like that! You are old you hear me? You are lucky that we are not violent people and have respect for old people otherwise we would have gotten physical with you up in here.”
They would then turn to the two gents and fire off some spite in their direction:
“How would you feel if some guy did that to your daughter or mother or sister or wife or girlfriend? You would knock someone out if they did what you did, evil doer. Well, you sir are a shame to all men everywhere and you are lucky that we did not get violent on you too”
Then, the women would turn to each other and amicably talk about their children or the weather, etc. and then BOOM… they were back at it. They would take turns lobbing verbal assault after verbal assault at these people. As if constantly running the D-Bag Bus back and forth over these people were not enough, the women decided to take photos of the “train crashers” so they could “Show everyone back home the rude and dangerous people they met on the train” (yes that is an exact quote) This lead to the perhaps the best exchange:
Man with sunglasses: “Look, if you had laid your hands on me, I would have knocked you out woman and I ain’t playin’ either.”
Wall of Sass ringleader: “Boy, I would kick your ass into next Tuesday”.
Man with sunglasses: “Shit, you ain’t got nothin’ you old feisty bitch”
Nothing like a good old fashioned verbal fisticuffs to get yourself in the mood for a once in a lifetime historic, world changing event.
Deciding that we had about enough of this stupid women, we decided to get off at Metro Center, about 32 stops early figuring that armed with maps and directions there should be little problem figuring out where we needed to be.
Riiiiiiiiiigggggggggghhhhhhttttttttttt.
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