But, the fact remains that the Coors Park era is officially over. The keys are turned in, and the bachelor pad has been split into three. After two years, the move-out felt a little hurried, but at least we were able to give the Christmas Stick a fitting tribute. While the townhouse was fun while it lasted, I do feel prepared to start something new. For all my bellyaching about the physical process of moving, what this move represents is EXTREMELY exciting.

So let's get through July, kids! Only 33 days to go!

Fresh food?, originally uploaded by Project BS.

I'm not so sure about this place...

No way to get a head, originally uploaded by Project BS.

When headless, run downstairs as fast as possible.

Clean Your Plate Or Else, originally uploaded by Project BS.

When leftovers go horribly wrong.

In case you're keeping score, that's three fairly major snafus over the last three days, all during rush hour. I know the weather can be partially blamed for some of this, but can we really only rely on Metro when it's 75 degrees and sunny? And is there really no better contingency plan than to wait for 50-passenger Metrobuses to arrive once something goes wrong? Can we expect our train operators to recognize something is wrong before dragging a derailed train nearly half a mile?

As of right now, it looks like the Orange Line will be back to normal by 5AM, well in time for my morning commute. But do I really want to gamble on what kind of accident will befall the system tomorrow evening? I'm not sure what parking and gas price is too steep or where my break point is, but I do know this: if this is the best preparation Metro can offer for their expected increase in ridership once gas hits $5 a gallon, we are truly screwed.

(Thanks for the link and the reporting on that WMATA item, Matt.)

rain rain for days, originally uploaded by Project BS.

The scene before the epic commute.

That'll teach me to leave work early to try to get a jump on packing.

Earlier in the day, my co-workers and I were walking up and down Crystal Drive to various meetings and commented on how nice a day it was. Indeed, it was a clear day, but the constant breeze proved to be very much a harbinger of doom. By 3:30, our meetings were done for the day, and by the time we came to the lobby of the building, the skies had opened up. The sky was black, and across the entire area, debris was being strewn about and at least one tornado touched down.

But me, not having access to the instant forecasts of those with Blackberries or iPhones, simply thought, No problem. I can get to the Crystal City Metro more than one way, through its famous complex system of underground tunnels. I won't even have to get wet. Especially when a co-worker gave me a lift to another building that was connected to the easiest tunnel. I was bone dry and a little smug as I went through the Metro motions without really thinking. It's become automatic for me to get out my SmarTrip and head onto the Blue Line. I normally at least glance at the status messages, though so often they're for escalator outages that I don't always wait for them all to cycle through.

This brings us to the part of the story where I have to give Metro at least some credit. The train operator was very upfront and communicative with us about the status of the train - of course, this was after it was too late for me to go back to the office or go anywhere else, really. Thus, fatefully, I ended up on an Orange Line train that had to be emptied at East Falls Church due to power lines and trees down across the tracks. I was two stops from Dunn Loring and about 3.5 miles from my house as the crow flies.

By this time, at least 500 people were already overflowing the tiny station and spilling out into the bus stop area outside, waiting in vain for shuttle buses that were themselves stuck in traffic, since half of the traffic lights on 50 and 29 were also out. I searched out a bus map as I walked to the upper edge of the crowd and quickly sought out the line that would take me by my house, knowing that most people would be blindly waiting to get to West Falls Church. As luck would have it, the second bus to pull into the station was the one I needed. I managed to squeeze onto it as the very last person to get into the standing-room-only aisle, with people wedged on the stairs, against the doors, and practically out the windows. As I searched for a way to hang on to some handlebar without getting my nose in an armpit or worse, the bus began its creeping 45-minute ride down those three miles. Still, I counted myself lucky as train after train continued to dump riders out into the overflowing streets. Many men had already given up, taken off their dress shirts, and just started walking.

As we traveled further, it seemed that the Gallows Road intersection was a black hole - the closer we got to the event horizon, the slower we went. As we got to within a half-mile of my house, I too finally gave up and bailed out of the bus when someone else got off at their normal stop and walked the rest of the way. The bus never caught up to me.

An hour and forty-five minutes after I'd left Crystal City, I entered our front door. I would have felt victorious if not for being completely exhausted and with the knowledge that I had essentially abandoned my car at Dunn Loring and would have to go after it later. Still, you can't win 'em all . . . and at least I was home.

Once you move from downtown, however, there are other places here that make you forget you're in one of the most powerful cities on earth. Take the extreme southeastern corner of Montgomery County and the tip of Northwest, for example. Several weeks ago, I was on my back from Gina's house on a Sunday afternoon. For some reason, the Beltway was blocked once again, so I tried an alternate route south down River Road and the Clara Barton Parkway. As is usually the case with driving in DC, I missed the crucial exit to cross over to the G.W. Parkway, so I found myself in hilly, tree-lined parkland that reminded me a lot of home. All I had to do was squint and pretend that an 18-wheel coal truck was going to meet me around the next bend, and I very well could have been in West Virginia. I broke free of the forest and passed a water treatment facility before officially entering the District, the first blocks of which could have been any small town in the hills.

When I think back on encounters like this, however accidental they may be, it makes me appreciate living here that much more: just when you think you have this area figured out, there's always an unexplored corner or a story of a Fairfax County farm that lets you milk cows that piques your interest that much more, not to mention the articles about the higher-than-average offerings of farmer's markets and park areas. There are worse places to carve out your early career.

I saw this picture the other day and tried to track down its source. Turns out it comes courtesy of the webcomic xkcd:

Clearly, Donatello wins.

So is it on?, originally uploaded by Project BS.

In a send-off of good old desk graffiti, it looks as though there is some confusion about the bike to work day.

Some, of course, simply said "oh heck yes" and took the proffered cookies without hesitation.

Watching the game was fun, by the way. Our free tickets were close to the field. It was my first live soccer match other than intramurals, and I was impressed by how quickly the 90 minutes goes by when you're there. Of course, the fact that the US women outscored the Canucks by 6-0 probably meant that there were many more goals than is typical, but I still enjoyed it. I could probably go see a DC United game sometime soon.

Maybe this still wasn't my last time at the old warhorse of RFK.