Commuter, Know Thyself

This morning Tim and I dropped his car off for an oil change and proceeded merrily in my car to the slug lot. It was a tad later than usual so we were figuring we'd have to wait for a good while to get a person to make up our necessary 3, which was fine because Tim has started his summer class and has lots of reading to do on the drives to and from work and I had my CD with Tangerine Speedo on it. All was right with the world.

To our surprise, when we pulled into the aisle of the parking lot that holds slugs going to our destination, there was a healthy little line of people waiting - probably 8 or 10 of them. One car was just loading up, so as they pulled away, we slid to the front of the line and the woman now in front hopped into the car (with a slightly askance look because people just don't seem to enjoy riding in 2 door cars - even when there's someone already in the backseat. I can kinda see it if they have to crawl in the back, though my backseat is actually pretty roomy, but if you're just plopping your tail in a front seat and shutting the door, how is this any different than a 4-door?) I mentioned that we continued a certain direction after the typical end of the slug line - information that is useful to many commuters as it saves them a metro ride and we just take them up closer to where they actually work, sometimes allowing us to skip stoplights by going a different direction. She nodded and said, "Ok."

I interpreted this as an acknowledgement that she understood but was happy with the metro, which was fine with me.

As we reached the point of 395 where some destinations go left and other destinations go right and I begain our turn, the following conversation took place:

Her: Crystal City?
Me: No. *our destination*.
Her: The line was for Crystal City.
Me: No, that was the *our destination* line.
Her: No. Crystal City.
Me: No, sorry, *our destination*.

At this there was a very disgusted sigh, a grab for her cellphone, and an ensuing conversation in a language I couldn't pinpoint - maybe some sort of Middle Eastern language, certainly not any of the traditionally offered high school languages. I picked out words like Crystal City, our destination, and Metro.

We dropped her at the Metro station (which I pointed out to her since she seemed unsure of where it was or how to get there) and wished her a better day. As we drove away, this conversation took place between Tim and me:

Me: I didn't get in the wrong line did I?
Tim: No, you were in the right line.
Me: Ok, I thought so - cause it's where there are the funky light poles.
Tim: Right. Plus *other information that makes it clear we were in the right place*.
Me: Ok. Just didn't want to have gone to the wrong place.
Tim: Yeah. But you'd think that your statement that we continue in this direction would've been a clue.
Me: Only if she knows where she's going.

So this is my final statement: Commuter, know thyself. Or at least, know thy slug line. And if you're unsure, the other people in the line (of which there were plenty) really won't bite if you just look to your right or left and confirm where you think you're going. And if that's not the line for where you think you're going, they'll point you to the right place. The slug lines are generally a friendly place to be - but you gotta know where you're going, even if you don't know where you've been. Otherwise it's just another road to nowhere.