One step too far

Those of us accustomed to riding the Metro in DC have witnessed on many occasions the comical effects of a lurching train.

Specifically, the comical effects that a lurching train has on unstable Metro passengers who, after assuming the train has come to a complete stop, have given up on the basic principle of maintaining their balance.

We’ve all seen it. A train comes to a halt. Passengers get up and let go of the overhead pole. Maybe they start looking at their Blackberries, unaware that they are not, as it seems, at their stop.

This phenomenon will sometimes occur in what seems like slow motion. Some of us might even spot an unaware passenger and hope that it happens. Because we need something to amuse us on our otherwise dreary commutes.

And, if you’re anything like me, you think two opposing but not necessarily mutually exclusive thoughts:

1. You’re such a moron. Look at you, just standing there. The train is going to move in three seconds and you’re going to go flying into that old lady next to you. Don;t you have a brain? People like you shouldn’t even be allowed to ride the Metro with us. You probably stand on the left side of the escalator, too. Idiot

…and…

2. This is going to be great!

Watching off-balance Metro passengers lose their footing is funny. Until, that is, when it happens to you.

Yesterday morning, I was on the Red Line coming into Metro Center. I had stood up from my seat shortly after leaving L’Enfant Plaza and secured a spot in front of the door. Right next to a short, large lady wearing awesome wrap-around shades you might find in Florida retirement communities.

Some crappy song had come on my iPod and I decided to shuffle ahead to find something better. Seriously, how the hell did Dido end up on my iPod?

The train halted. I looked up and saw the Metro Center platform. In the back of my mind, I thought, Hmm, this isn’t where the train usually stops. .

I looked back down at my iPod.

And then it moved.

Jarred by what I thought was a perfectly wide enough stance, I caromed out of my Zone of Balance and into the lady with the wrap-around shades.

I might as well have been Mario Lemieux demolishing opponents in Sega NHL ‘94. I practically cross-checked the lady against the side glass. And, to add further injury to injury, I stepped on her foot. Hard.

It would have made Gretzky’s head bleed.

“Are you ok?” I asked.

She nodded.

“I’m really sorry,” I continued. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Her gaze didn’t meet mine. She stared straight ahead with the dignity of a thousand praying monks.

And nodded again.

The doors opened. I walked off the train and toward the escalators, hoping I could catch the Orange Line on time.

I looked back once more to see if the lady with the wrap-around shades was walking ok.

With my head turned backwards, a woman walked right into me.

“Are you ok?” she said.

I nodded and kept walking.