I was a-quakin'!

Sometime in the early morning hours, in that time between dreading the alarm clock going off and it actually waking you in time to start your day,  I surfaced from one unmemorable dream into what i mistook later as another.  A low, throbbing hum filled the air and my mind, half-asleep, only began to try to interpret the sound's source as my ears picked up the sound of my ceramic work, suspended six feet in the air on shelving that I inexpertly installed, as it began to clink together like a stationary wind chime.

For the briefest of moments, a nanosecond of thought, the word "earthquake" shot across my mind.  Layered behind that word were words like "terrorist attack," "gas explosion," and "really big truck."  With those words having come and gone in the span of a mere moment, I settled for an explanation that seemed much more safe, but much less plausible: perhaps, in what could only be described as it's throws of death, the washing machine one floor above me had begun thrashing about, causing the hum that still throbbed in the air and the slightly musical chinking of my ceramic work.

At 6:30 in the morning the sound of ocean waves trapped in a tin can crashed over me and I hauled myself from bed.  I showered, shaved, brushed my teeth, gathered some things, and not once did I think about that which I could easily dismiss as nothing more than a strange dream.  When Megan called me in the morning, and as we were exchanging thoughts on the morning and the day to come, I suddenly remembered the odd experience.  After explaining the experience, I told her that I was not sure if it had actually happened or if I had merely dreamed about it.  We spoke of aliens for a minute and then considered options that were closer to home.

"Maybe it was an earthquake," she said.

"Oh yeah!  I can check that!" I replied.

It took me a full three seconds to find the answer.  Weather.com had, in big bold letters, a headline stating, "Washington DC rattled by earthquake."  For me the realization that I had half-slept my way through even a 3.5 earthquake was surreal.  How often does one get to experience a natural occurrence like an earthquake on the eastern side of the U.S.?  Not often.  However, despite Megan's claim that it was scary how many of these earthquakes were taking place in the area these days, I found that I was still rather excited about the idea of having experienced one for the first time that I can remember.  I'm pretty sure I experienced one while I lived in California, but I don't remember it.

I feel that experiences are paramount to actively living life, and while I can't really say that this was a great experience, heavy with sleep and half stupid as I was, I can chalk it up to something that I will remember.  For a little while anyway.

A Man on the Metro with Intricate Detail

"Will not work outside of Airplane. Please do not remove."

Those are the words printed on the top of a pair of headphones as they clung to the neck of the man in front of me on the metro. The Dupont Circle station had come into view and while the operator announced our stop I made my way toward the middle door of the car. I have a couple of pet peeves when it comes to riding the public transportation: people who eat and drink on the metro when it clearly states that its against the law, people who listen to their headphones so loud that they might as well have brought a portable stereo with them on the train, people who sit in the elderly/handicapped seats without offering those seats to the elderly or handicapped around them, and people who lean on the vertical poles and make it impossible for those shorter people around them to get a handhold. This man was a leaner.

The other bothersome part about his leaning on the pole was that it made it necessary for me to wait until he moved before I could get any closer to the door. This may sound a bit like picking at knits, but any metro rider worth their smartrip card knows that the sooner you get out of the door at a heavily trafficked station, the better your day is going to be. So the man was already two points ahead on my scale of irritation. Then I saw the headphones.

Call me old fashioned, but if an object has the equivalent of "don't steal me" printed directly on it, that would probably mean that whoever placed it where you found it would like it to remain where you found it. Again, maybe I'm old fashioned. Maybe "yes" means "no" now and victims are really criminals in disguise, what with all the stuff they don't want stolen. How dare they keep it all to themselves?

What struck me the hardest was that this man never tried to remove the label from the top of his headphones and then wore them in such a way that anyone standing behind him, a common occurrence on the metro, would be able to read them. That speaks to me of either ignorance or baldfaced audacity. So, as my attention is wont to do, I tracked the man as he left the metro car, climbed the first escalator, and walked toward the metro turnstiles.

In his 40s with a face reminiscent of a mallard duck and hair receding like the rain forests, this man wore a simple, solid light blue button up shirt, an immaculately clean black book bag, and beige khakis that bulged slightly at the hips. He walked as if his stride was too short for his legs and each leg came down with the full force of his weight. He walked like a person who was trying to hurry but didn't want those around him to know. Perhaps he was trying to make sure nobody knew his headphones were stolen. Maybe that's just the way he walks.

The details swam through my head creating little 'V's of thought as I plodded up the long escalator at Dupont Circle. This man, dressed as he was with his button up shirt, khakis, and book bag, going to Washington DC and using the metro like everyone else, was not the type of person I had in mind as a thief. Maybe he wasn't though. I did think about that. Maybe somebody else took them and they were sold at a yard sale and the man decided he needed a pair of headphones. Maybe the company that owned the airplane went bankrupt and these headphones were sold to the highest bidder?

You see some interesting things on the metro.