Blessed Metro Rides

So I want to start by recounting a story that I neglected to tell earlier, and how it's manifested itself into many subsequent DC adventures.

On one of my first days here, I was making small talk with one of the security staff at some federal building, I forget where exactly. Part of the conversation transcribed below:
         RANDOM GUARD: How are you, sir?
         ME: Oh I'm fine, and yourself?
         RG: I'm blessed.
         (RG Returns my backpack and agrees that my badge is sufficient proof to let me into BUILDING.)
         ME: Have a good day.
         RG: Have a blessed day!

A few days later, I was walking to lunch with Isabella (NJSP shoutoutz!), and she told me a similar story about being "blessed" and then we got to ANOTHER security guard who also told us to have a blessed day! What is this phenomenon? I have literally never heard anyone describe their state of being as blessed! Is DC some sort of religious Mecca?

Needless to say, "blessed" has become one of our running gags, and we wait eagerly for the day that we can slip it into mundane conversation. This probably counts as sacrilege/blasphemy, but I think that there are other, more severe offenses (in the eyes of the church) which I've already committed that have functionally shored up my eternal damnation.  (Examples include: not going to church and generally renouncing the positively ludicrous beliefs of the Catholic church on Harry Potter, gays, abortion, liberals, Muslims, anyone remotely removed from Caucasian descent, etc.)

Anyways, we had a truly blessed day on Saturday, which began by going to a chocolate tasting at Biagio in Dupont. It was all amazing/delicious, I was totally unable to really distinguish the "sensual flavors" and "subtle differences" between different, exorbitantly overpriced chocolates. I should have written some of the descriptions down, they were really rich. The chocolate was so robust it was positively jumping with life! How do I get a gig writing this nonsense? Is it the same people that staff the Pun Department at ESPN?  In any case, I'll be adding "chocolate connoisseur-ery" to my laundry list of skills to learn later in life. It's right up there with Morse Code and croquet, and just slightly after "legitimate (non-pasta) cooking." Ah, edification.

Afterwards, we went to the DC United game against the Houston Dynamo. But, as any sage will tell you, life isn't about the destination, it's about the journey. And let me tell you we had a really special one...

It all began on the Red Line of the Metro. All was well from Dupont to Metro Center. Our transfer to the Blue/Orange line was where things began to get sticky. At Eastern Market, the (crowded) Metro decided that it would just stop indefinitely. As the minutes ticked away, we realized that the game was about to start. After 15 minutes of this ridiculous waiting game we decided to just get off here and walk to the stadium. It was, after all, only 2 stops away, and we were armed with two Blackberries. DC is the city where each block is in desperate need of a station (See: Farragut North, Farragut West, Metro Center, Gallery Place, Federal Triangle, Smithsonian, Archives, L'Enfant), so I mean really, how bad could the walk be? Once we were about halfway there, we saw a man going into his apartment and sought affirmation that we were going the right way. Conversation:
        ISABELLA: Excuse me, could you tell us how to get to RFK Stadium.
        RANDOM MAN: Sure, if you just walk about three blocks back, you'll be at the Metro. Go two stops and you'll be right at the stadium!
        ME: OK, what if we want to walk?
        (RM casts a strong look of consternation and concern upon us. Why on Earth would you ever walk somewhere in this city when it has a Metro stop? he thinks. Clearly he has never tried the Metro on the weekend, otherwise he would know that it is little more than a glorified shuttle service, seventeen year old girl sick of her parents, coming and going at its leisure and not headed anyplace with a great sense of purpose or urgency.) 
        RM: See that silver car over there? Cross the street to it and then snake your way up to 19th and East Capitol. The stadium will be right there.
        US: Ok great, thanks!
        (RM no doubt turns away and shakes his head.) 


So we got to the game a few minutes later, having missed the first 20 minutes but nothing major (ie no goals). The game itself was really fun, and we had great seats especially considering the price (my only reservation on "great seats" is that die hards would wave these absolutely enormous flags on the sideline and obscure our view of the field). It ended in a 2-2 tie, but we left a few minutes before the end of regulation for fear of more Metro issues/never ever getting home. Of course, our fears were confirmed. First we got to the stadium station and rode a train in the wrong direction for a stop. (Oh hello, Minnesota Avenue! You're so lovely out here, all suburban and what-not. So glad we got to sight see! Of course it was too good to be true that a train was just sitting on the platform when we got to the stadium stop!) Soo then we waited around to get going in the right direction. A train came pretty quickly (and we used our new trick skillz--sitting in the first car), but of course that train proceeded to do a whole lot of nothing between stops. Super unclear why.

Basically, this site needs to become an app. Or someone with some serious spiritual power needs to bless these trains.

In late breaking news, never shop at Trader Joe's on Sunday afternoon! But you should definitely go to Georgetown and ogle the hoard of people trying to get into Georgetown Cupcake. Absurd.

Leaving lots out, but overall a really fun weekend! Can't wait for the 4th!