Tales of the Unexpected: Commuting Series
So. The commute this morning. My carpool calls in two hours late (which I can't do), and my New England (Boston) Driver mother very kindly offers me a ride to Metro, rather than me having to wait for the bus in the cold and damp. I get to Metro, hop on a train, and all is well until Crystal City.
The doors on our car didn't open. People stood and waited, and waited.... and then the train left the station. (Much wailing commenced.) Some enterprising individual hit the Emergency Call at the end of the car.
"We need to get off the train," she said.
"We've left the station," he said. "This is just for emergencies."
"NONE OF THE DOORS OPENED ON THIS CAR," she yelled. "We're STUCK HERE. GET US OUT!"
That seemed to be enough that he understood it wasn't another group of tourist kids (I guess there's a lot of that?). "None of the doors opened?" he asked.
"Not one," she replied.
"Okay, well, you're going to have to get off at the next station." We all blinked. Okay, maybe the doors would work this time...? NOPE. Pentagon City - nothing.
"Are the doors open?" the operator asks.
"NO!!!" we all reply.
"How about now?" he said.
The doors weren't budging. "The doors are stuck," the lady said. "WE'RE STUCK HERE!"
"Now, ma'am, don't panic, we'll get you out of there," he said. "Are they open now?"
"NOOOOO!!!"
Finally, another Metro employee pokes his head through the door at the end of the car. "Everyone debarking at this station, please come down this way, and I'll let you out through the next car. The doors on this car aren't working."
"Gee, really?" the woman sitting next to me muttered. "I'd never have guessed."
People - about half the car's passengers - trot dutifully down the length of the car, into the next, and half of those actually get off the train. The rest were Being Clever, getting to a car whose doors opened so they could leave without much more fuss. (Mind you, at this point, we're a fifteen-minute delay on the Blue Line just by ourselves.)
Mooooooooo.
We pull up to Pentagon. Two or three earphoners, who'd missed everything that was happening, lined up at the doors.
"The doors don't work," the woman next to me tells the Marine at the door.
"The doors work," he barked back, glaring. He didn't appreciate that we then giggled at him. He waits. The doors fail to open. "Passengers, please DO NOT BOARD THIS TRAIN," the voice comes over the intercom for the station. "THIS TRAIN IS HAVING MECHANICAL DIFFICULTIES. THE DOORS DO NOT OPEN. DO NOT BOARD THIS TRAIN." (I just love announcements like that - "Don't Do This Thing You Can't Do!!") Of course, the Marine glares at me and the woman next to me like it's our fault the doors won't open.
The Metro employee in the next car does his spiel again, and the Marine, and others, tramp down to the end of the car to debark. We notice that they're moving several cars down... more train doors have frozen. It's Not Just Us. Everyone that wants to gets off; the train starts up again. I notice that several people at Pentagon station are staring with amazement and some anger that the train is just Leaving Without Them.
"Hey! There are people here!" I hear one girl shout angrily. (Mind you, the "DO NOT BOARD THIS TRAIN" message has been playing constantly.)
"Passengers, at Arlington, we're going to be moving all of you all up to the front of the train. At Rosslyn, we'll be offloading the train. The doors do not work on several cars."
"How about that," I say to the woman next to me. "The doors don't seem to work."
"You don't say?!?" she replied, and we both laughed, along with everyone left in our area. All the good natured people seemed to take the delay as "a few more minutes to sit and read/knit/listen to music"; the impatient ones were back a few cars, and would have to come back this way at Rosslyn, likely getting more impatient and unhappy in the process.
Once again, at Rosslyn: "Passengers, please DO NOT BOARD THIS TRAIN. THIS TRAIN IS HAVING MECHANICAL DIFFICULTIES. THE DOORS DO NOT OPEN. DO NOT BOARD THIS TRAIN. THIS TRAIN IS OFFLOADING. DO NOT BOARD THIS TRAIN."
Naturally, several people are trying to push past the people leaving the train.
"They're offloading this train, it's broken," I tell one particularly pushy girl. "You can't go on there."
She glares and rolls her eyes, and pushes her way onto the car.
"Everybody off," the guy inside says. "No passengers, ma'am."
She sits down, ignoring him. "Miss, you have to leave the train, or you'll get a ticket." That makes her get up and flounce back off. (I'm still pressed up against the side of the train, since the arriving commuters aren't actually letting the whole-mess-of-people that have to get off the train get off the train. I get to watch as the Girl Who Wouldn't Listen gets jammed up against the only operating set of doors by people who haven't figured out that they're all closed now, and the train will be leaving.
The blurry light says "NO PASSENGERS"
Finally, they manage to get everyone away from the train (by dint of two Metro Police officers going down the edge of the train and having everyone move back). There are many disgruntled passengers. By the time I get free of the bulk of the crowd, everyone else that wanted this station has left, so I'm able to walk unimpeded to the elevator, and hop on just as it arrives at the ground floor.
As the elevator doors shut, I turn to the other occupant of the car (who had also been in my car on the train).
"Hopefully, these doors will work," I say.
"Don't even think it," she replied with a smile. Despite having hit the button for the plaza, she got off at street level with me, though. Just in case.