Another driver fails D.C. road test
One year into Washington living, a District woman driving home from Arlington found herself directionless when her trusty iPhone ran out of juice. But she patted herself on the back for being such a good transplant when she managed to cross all those pesky Potomac bridges and arrive back in the District.
The triumph was short-lived, however, when she came to a fork and found her Mazda going the wrong direction on Interstate 295.
After more mucking about in D.C. traffic, she finally made it home to NoMa, remembering a friend’s assessment of D.C. roads: These must have been mapped out by a kid with an Etch A Sketch.
Good Samaritan, Part 1
The destination sign on the D6 East bus was out one muggy afternoon, causing a bit of confusion for those looking for their ride on the Sibley Hospital-Stadium Armory line.
A man identifying himself as “Steve,” wearing a white T-shirt and jean shorts, took it upon himself to exit the bus and declare to anyone within earshot, “This is the D6. This is the D6.”
But apparently, Steve just wanted the recognition for being a good Samaritan. When nobody thanked him within a few stops — or even acknowledged his effort — Steve stopped helping.
Just a few moments later, a group of women chased the bus as it pulled away from a stop, yelling, “Wait, is that the D6?”
When they eventually boarded, Steve muttered, “If only somebody was here to help.”
Part 2
A Silver Spring resident, on her way to the North Carolina beaches for vacation, had finally exited Interstate 95 after the typical summer six-hour slog.
A white sedan zoomed up beside her shiny new car, still adorned with temporary tags (these days, a piece of paper in a plastic bag), and the driver started yelling at her. She ignored the woman and kept driving. Then the woman pulled out in front and pulled over on the shoulder, hazards flashing.
“What is she doing? Is she crazy?” the soon-to-be-beach-bum thought, and kept driving.
The woman pulled out and started following.
So this time, the vacationer slowed down and rolled down the window, letting the woman pull up beside her, though by his time she was a little freaked out.
“Your tag is falling off,” the woman said. “I’m not crazy.”
The vacationer thanked her profusely, pulled over and fixed it.
Make-believe only goes so far
A young girl was piling plastic fruit into her miniature shopping cart Wednesday afternoon at the Playseum, a children’s play space on Capitol Hill that has a series of themed rooms, including a “grocery store” intended to encourage children’s imaginative play.
She grabbed some fake bananas and fake apples, an empty box of crackers, an empty bottle of milk, and so on, all the while talking to herself in a serious tone of voice.
Finally, as she pushed the cart toward the check-out counter, she turned to her mother and said, “Mama, after this, can we go to real D.C.?”
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