A friend and I made the mistake of trying to take our bikes on the metro to go climbing today. This is a major inconvenience, as we are not supposed to go on the escalators (except when the elevators are out, which one was on our way to the gym), and the elevators move at the speed of ancient slugs. On our way out, I kindly (go on brush your shoulders off) allowed an elderly couple to take the elevator down before us, as we couldn't all fit. 15 minutes later, after the elevator returned from its epic 1-story journey, a mother and baby showed up. At that point we got in, leaving mom and baby stranded, and I felt a twinge of guilt, but how long were we supposed to wait there? We continued on our blissful journey, pedal-powered to the gym.
It was the return trip that really got us in trouble.
We got off at the Woodly Park Metro, which is apparently where they have baby conventions in the summer, as they were being pushed in strollers as far as the eye could see. We waited, and we were being patient, as a father and baby convention attendant tried desperately to come in through the handicapped turnstile. He wasn't clear on protocol for when his card didn't work, which all DC residents know is to get the heck out of the way. We weren't in any particular rush, though, so we let him roadblock the only exit we could squeeze through for awhile.
The woman with child rolled who up behind us apparently had a date with the queen, however. She snorted and sighed, mumbled, "get out of the way" under her breath, then started trying to nudge past my friend, who also understands social graces. Finally the metro employee redirected the poor non-DC native daddy, and we were able to pass through.
On the other side, we walked our bikes to the elevator, which had formerly been broken, and stood, again patiently, behind an able-bodied looking woman who was inexplicably waiting for the elevator too. As we waited, our friend from the turnstile line appeared, again grunting and pushing her stroller back and forth aggressively. The tiny elevator was not going to fit this entire line of folks, and as we got on she called out, "You know, the elevator is for women and children FIRST." I replied, "we aren't allowed to take the escalator" as the doors saved us from her wrath.
At this point, I had to blast this woman. I turned to my friend, "I guess she's very important and had important places to be."
"Did you see her trying to shove by me earlier?" I nodded in assent, eyes wife in horror at this woman.
"The zoo is a very urgent matter."
"Oi. Some people."
From the corner of the elevator, the original able-bodied woman looked up, "You know in some cultures, women with babies go first. Not women like you just exercising."
"..."
"Fair enough..."
Here is a list of things I brainstormed on my ride home to shoot back at Mean Elevator Lady:
"Actually, the announcement says disabled and elderly first, not pushy bitches"
"You know is some cultures, able-bodied women use the escalators. I didn't see you give up your spot."
"You see the number of babies trying to go to the zoo today, right? We would literally be stranded for hours at the rate this elevator moves."
"We are riding our bikes for transportation, not exercise. At least we're not pumping CO2 into that child's lungs."
etc.
In addition to self-righteous rage, however, there was a strong twinge of guilt. I think that's why I was speaking ill of her in the elevator- to justify my choice to take that spot. The truth is, if I had offered her the ride up, maybe she would have been kinder on the other side to someone else. Maybe I would have inspired a little seed to be passed forward to the next poor smuck who was clearly too negative to enjoy the world at that moment. I know I've been overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers in my life, from paying for a toll to supporting an elderly person who falls on the platform. That shit hits me hard in the heart, and makes me want to do better. To be better. It is hard to know how much a random act of kindness could impact the world, even when gifted to a crotchety aggressive woman in the metro. She probably needs it more than most.
And I'm glad the Mean Elevator Lady said something, because I think I would have gone on defending myself for that choice had she not. It gave me the jolt I needed to be reflective, because it surfaced those subterranean feelings of being a bad person and forced me to confront them. I don't think I'm a bad person, and sled-flagellation is not my preferred method of repentance. But I don't think a made a choice that feels good in my heart, and it's important to hear that.
Furthermore, immediately after that ride, I lost my second metro card in a row.
I guess I deserved that.
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