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From the move-out at Coors Park comes the summer's freshest blockbuster:

Wow, moving is awful! I mean, there's nothing quite more effective at making your life feel in complete disarray than packing up everything you own and putting it all in boxes. The effect has probably been intensified due to long hours at work. I could have used a day off here and there to get things tightened down at the apartment.

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!

Hey, I just wanted to let you all know that I'll be continuing the process of moving this weekend, and if all goes well, the moving will progress to the point where I won't have an Internet connection for a couple of weeks. I still plan on posting when able and sneaking some online time here and there somehow, but I just thought I'd let you know. It's exciting times! No more Orange Line for me!

(Note: This post was written earlier, but our Internet connection was out for a day or so. Publishing . . . now!)

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.