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This morning I had a taste of what my existence could be like in a year or so, if (a) I stay with Andrew Undershaft Industries, Inc.; (b) the strategic business unit I'm in consolidates to Dulles, Va.; and (c) I perish and there really is a hell and God really does hate fags.
Ready? O-K! 7 a.m. out de do' and down de street; Green Line Metro to L'Enfant Plaza; transfer to Orange Line in the direction of Vienna; exit at West Falls Church and run for the Lowdown County bus (the red-headed stepchild of public transportation, parked so far from the station I might as well have detrained at Merrifield). In the rare spot of good luck, due to the blistering (sorry, should that be "punishing"?) heat, all NoVa buses are free today, meaning I don't have to pester the general ridership for change for a $10. 8 a.m. bus pulls out; 8:41 drops me at the North Dulles Transit Center. The schedule says this, the final stop, is 8:33; how we got to be 8 minutes late on this short run is beyond me; but my connection, a shuttle bus, was supposed to depart at 8:40 and so might have already left. I am standing in the partial shade of a bus shelter absolutely hating the prospect of waiting around till 9:40 for the next shuttle bus. But after 5 minutes or so the short bus (pickle bus?) pulls up and I inquire of the driver whether he stops at my destination. He does. The bus is not labeled the same as the schedule for my bus so I'm still not sure what shuttle I took, but hey--going my way! And, as expected, at 9:03 it drops me at precisely the location I had reluctantly consented to in my Web machinations yesterday: Nokes Blvd. in Dulles, just about 1 mile from my final destination.
I walk 1 mile.
I introduce myself to the receptionist at the Dulles office of Andrew Undershaft Industries, Inc., and beg her not to call anyone I am supposed to meet until I can use a men's room. In the men's room I remove my shirt and hang it on the door. The back is wholly soaked; the front has several set spots where my chest hair has wicked sweat. I rinse my head. I paper-towel myself as close to dry as possible, wave the shirt around for a few minutes, and put it back on. It's clammy. Ok, now I'm ready to meet the folks.
(Of course, not one but two people call my an idiot for not arranging to carpool with them; I explain that I always insist on getting to any work location on my own steam the first time, just to see how it's done.)
Total elapsed time from door to door: 2 hours 18 minutes one way. Hurray! The ideal commute!
Ready? O-K! 7 a.m. out de do' and down de street; Green Line Metro to L'Enfant Plaza; transfer to Orange Line in the direction of Vienna; exit at West Falls Church and run for the Lowdown County bus (the red-headed stepchild of public transportation, parked so far from the station I might as well have detrained at Merrifield). In the rare spot of good luck, due to the blistering (sorry, should that be "punishing"?) heat, all NoVa buses are free today, meaning I don't have to pester the general ridership for change for a $10. 8 a.m. bus pulls out; 8:41 drops me at the North Dulles Transit Center. The schedule says this, the final stop, is 8:33; how we got to be 8 minutes late on this short run is beyond me; but my connection, a shuttle bus, was supposed to depart at 8:40 and so might have already left. I am standing in the partial shade of a bus shelter absolutely hating the prospect of waiting around till 9:40 for the next shuttle bus. But after 5 minutes or so the short bus (pickle bus?) pulls up and I inquire of the driver whether he stops at my destination. He does. The bus is not labeled the same as the schedule for my bus so I'm still not sure what shuttle I took, but hey--going my way! And, as expected, at 9:03 it drops me at precisely the location I had reluctantly consented to in my Web machinations yesterday: Nokes Blvd. in Dulles, just about 1 mile from my final destination.
I walk 1 mile.
I introduce myself to the receptionist at the Dulles office of Andrew Undershaft Industries, Inc., and beg her not to call anyone I am supposed to meet until I can use a men's room. In the men's room I remove my shirt and hang it on the door. The back is wholly soaked; the front has several set spots where my chest hair has wicked sweat. I rinse my head. I paper-towel myself as close to dry as possible, wave the shirt around for a few minutes, and put it back on. It's clammy. Ok, now I'm ready to meet the folks.
(Of course, not one but two people call my an idiot for not arranging to carpool with them; I explain that I always insist on getting to any work location on my own steam the first time, just to see how it's done.)
Total elapsed time from door to door: 2 hours 18 minutes one way. Hurray! The ideal commute!
