Recently in News Category

After the Orange Line train derailment on Monday (which I narrowly avoided thanks to a timely call from Gina's stepfather) and a "minor" malfunction at Rosslyn yesterday (which marooned me at Arlington Cemetery and forced me to double back and hitch a ride from my loving-but-forced-to-deal-with-no-air-conditioning-in-her-office-all-week fiance), I decided to just forgo the trouble and freaking drive to work. Despite the $17-a-day parking fee, I made a good choice, because according to Matthew, there was a heat-induced "kink" in the track between East Falls Church and Ballston (which, of course, is right along where the Epic Commute of last week occured) that forced more riders onto shuttle buses and single-tracked trains.

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.)

One year has passed, but the memories are still fresh. I can talk about it now, sure. I can speculate and wonder why it happened. I can talk to co-workers about the larger implications. I can get myself busy enough that it doesn't distract me. It doesn't define me, and it doesn't define my community. But one year isn't quite long enough to forget feeling utterly helpless, forced to watch the news unfold in my cubicle between frantic calls back to Gina in Blacksburg. The relief at knowing she and most of my friends were okay. The grief in imagining that so many others weren't and in realizing that one of the victims was a friendly, smiling guy I had taken a few classes with freshman year. The shock in simultaneously recognizing him and internalizing the cold truth, a closer and more horrible truth, in the span of a second. The shame in trying not to imagine what the families and close friends were experiencing at that moment.

One year later, I still can't pass by the memorial websites when I happen upon them. I still get choked up when I glance at a few, then read about the collective accomplishments of so many bright individuals, always finding out something new, though it's tempered by their forever-unfulfilled goals. It's a finality and a reality that I loathe to remember but don't ever want to forget.

So today, as the news recycles footage and tries to say the same thing 1,000 different ways, I will join my Hokie Nation as we unite once more and remember the 32. I will continue praying for the families that are bitter, grieving, and still looking for answers. I hope they find them somewhere.

I remain proud to be a Hokie, I am proud of how the University pulled through last year, and I will keep this pride forever, even as we all lean on each other in our remembrance and healing. As we hope that this never happens again.

Now let's get busy living.

Gina and I have canceled our original honeymoon plans. We're heading here, to Sealand, for a nice vacation, unless the local ruler mistakes our visit as an overture to war and incarcerates us for a couple of weeks.

While it sounds like some sort of Disney theme park ride, or a cheap knockoff of Shamu's digs, Sealand is actually an abandoned British World War II-era sea fort that, 40 years ago, seemed like an inviting place to Roy Bates, who promptly set up a sovereign nation and declared himself Prince. Wacky ol' Sealand has stood the test of time and at least a few invasions, I'm sure, and even a fire, and now it's making new headways in the realm of secure Internet hosting.

So, those of you who may aspire to visit every nation, or at least continent - what are you going to do about this place?

Ah, there we go. Nothing like an improved, seamless interface to make you want to write again. I've been gone quite a long while, my friends. But you've heard all that before: it's the same reasons as ever (class, work, laziness) with a brand new and *very good* reason (mawwiage) thrown into the mix. All I can really do is reflect that many things have changed since I last took this seriously. For starters, Matthew has started a very well-written blog, which has had time to soak up most of my market share by now. The elusive Rob also started one. The infamous Daryl has re-entered the blogging world to much fanfare, along with the recent resurgence of Josh at BTN. And all the while, Tom was keepin' on trucking with not one but two blogs. I feel like this could be late 2005 again, if it weren't for the constant buzz of the most important U.S. Presidential Election in History swarming around D.C., mixed with the promise of a new ballpark, a new work location, new friends, and beginning a new life with Gina in a few months. And the fact that so many people are having babies now.

I'll close with some foreshadowing. Another reason I wanted to be sure to tune up Ramble On was for a work trip next week that will be a journey of Hobbit-esque proportions. But you'll just have to take my word for it for now... no matter what LeVar Burton says (even the cooler 2000's LeVar).