Recently in Travel 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 of the best things about the DC area to me is that it is one of the largest metropolitan areas in the U.S. that still retains a smaller-city feel. Some of the prime examples come up early and often: the downtown building height restriction and the European-inspired city layout, for example. I'd say some of these also contribute to the paralyzing traffic, but when you get past that, I can buy into it.
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.
The next morning after breakfast with the crew, we took some more touring below decks. The day before, we had already seen the areas devoted to the crew's personal well-being: the chapel, outfitted with elements for people of all religions; the surround sound movie theater; and the Internet café, where a line was constantly forming as the sailors waited to check their snail-slow NMCI accounts. On the second day, we were treated to a tour of the foc'sle, where the anchors are stored. The Reagan's foc'sle has the reputation of being the cleanest in the fleet - another point of pride for the crew. At different times of the day, we also saw the engine shop where aircraft engines are brought back to life and the inner workings of the catapult room. We were also led outdoors to the stern, where we noticed that the ocean was high and that the ship was moving along at a very good clip. It impressed me that something that big could move so fast - though every time it did make a maneuver and every time a plane landed, you could feel it no matter where you were on board. We took a walk through the Reagan Room, a museum-like setting that honored the life of the ship's namesake. We even went down to waste management, where our hosts made it a point to highlight the recycling and impressive "green" efforts underway daily throughout the ship.
Our last big stop was at the cavernous hangar deck, where a Hornet pilot showed us the cockpit of his plane and freely answered our questions. My key takeaway from that experience was this: an ejection seat is like a ballistic missile, so don't mess with it. Also, since it is true that pilots lose an inch or so of height during the ejection process and can still break a few bones before it's all said and done, it really is a last resort. They wouldn't let us sit in the cockpit for that reason, but as you can imagine, I was actually a bit relieved. Overall, the efficiency and space management of the flight deck continued down into the hangar, where planes undergoing maintenance were carefully stowed to maximize the utility of the space.
We had one last farewell and exchange of thanks with the Captain and Admiral before we headed down to a Hawkeye pilot ready room to talk with them about some of their flight preparations. They were kind enough to give us a general idea of where the heck we were in the ocean (about 100 miles from San Diego, they said), and they walked us through the pilot's scoreboard, which kept track of each Hawkeye pilot's landing statistics (they all looked green or yellow, which was passable). While we sat in the room, I watched our return flight C-2 land on Channel 25 and knew that our whirlwind tour was coming to a close.
Sure enough, we soon strapped our horsecollars and cranials back on and were given a few final instructions about boarding the COD. Even through everything I'd experienced, I was still a bit nervous about this part. We said goodbye to our tour guides, boarded the plane and strapped back in. The rest happened so quickly that it is nearly a blur. There was the anticipation of not knowing exactly when we would take off. There was the signaling of the flight crew and their "let's go, go, go!" yell, with their wrists circling in exaggerated motions. And then I was flying out of my seat, pressed completely against the harness, my knees nearly hitting the seat in front of me. In three seconds, it was all done and we were airborne. Those of us who could turn around and see the rest of our tour group gave each other thumbs up, and we all laughed. I joined in, partly because of the huge thrill of participating in a catapult launch, but also because I still couldn't believe how lucky I was to be a part of this experience, and how fortunate we all are to live in a country that can provide such vessels and willing volunteers to operate them as a means to defend us and our freedom.
If you ever get the opportunity to do something like this, do it, no matter your opinion of wars or politics. It is worth it.
After lunch and another safety brief in the "distinguished visitor" (a label we had for the duration of our trip) ready room, we were ready to take a trip out to the flight deck. The Top Gun theme was racing through my head as we donned our cranials once more and were led, single-file, out to an area that was clear of planes for the time being.
The first impression I had of the flight deck was how loud it was, even through the double hearing protection. The rest of the time, I was wide-eyed with amazement at just how cool it was to see an F/A-18 Hornet coming from two miles away with its tailhook down, zooming by us in a split-second at full throttle so the pilot could pull off if anything went wrong, and then just as fast being caught by a cable and, wings vibrating, pulled to a stop. And in reverse, it was amazing to watch a multimillion dollar aircraft being lined up at the catapult with its afterburners blazing, and to try not to blink as it shot through the sky mere seconds later with little warning. My appreciation for the bravery of pilots went up several notches.
We stayed on the deck for a long time, long enough for me to go slack-jawed with nerdy interest in every detail of the operations. We learned about the different colors of flight crew shirts and what they mean, and we saw EA-6B Prowlers, E-2 Hawkeyes, and more Hornets take off and land throughout the day.
The next stop was the flight deck control room, where we watched a decidedly low-tech approach to managing the locations of each aircraft: the crew used a 2-D diagram of the flight and hangar deck populated with cardboard cutouts of each plane, then moved them to their current position on deck, a la Risk or a World War II battle strategy scenario. The irony wasn't lost on me, but who could argue with what worked?