Personal Space Revoked

I would have given a vital organ to have had my iPhone on me a week and a half ago, in order to write this blog as the original inspiration struck. But alas, I left my precious technological cargo sitting in my center console, while my wonderful Mom and StepDad whisked me away to our nation's capitol. I'm actually not complaining. There was something refreshing and carefree about not being attached to a small device that rings and buzzes all too often. Enough about my phone, or my lack of memory in order to grab the phone as I exited the car.....it was a test of my will. And I passed. Enough said.
Onto the real reason for this blog. Most of you know me. Many of you know me really well. And if you do, you also know that my personal space bubble is rather large. I'm not a "hugger," although I have learned to become more of one. When random second and third graders run up to you and hug you, saying "Hi Miss Johnson!" Well, it tends to melt your heart a tad....and thus you find yourself being hugged, and returning the hug. I should clarify....I AM a hugger with my family. I have BECOME a hugger with my friends. But I'm generally a "waver." If I could just wave instead of shaking hands with people, my life would be perfect! ;0)
So, I had an amazing trip to Washington, D.C. It's definitely a different world. I liken it to New York City, but on anti-depressants. In DC, its busy and business like, but the people are nice and the subway is clean. In NYC, I'm thinking it's not. The subway.....oh, the subway.
First of all, let me explain that in DC it's called the Metro. And it's actually a pretty cool system. And moderately easy to decipher and once you get the hang of it, you kind of feel like a public transportation prodigy.
I didn't like rushing to catch the train, because you ran the risk of the doors closing on you or one of your party, then you would be left at the station, without a cell phone, in a strange city as you watch your parents travel down the track. Mind you, this didn't happen, but it did in my mind....and that was enough to scare me. However, just as I thought the Metro was about the coolest invention in the world, one afternoon changed all that.
Me, my Mom and my StepDad decided to head back to our hotel after a long day of sightseeing. None of us looked at our watches, and didn't realize the red-line was backed up until we were standing on the platform. As the train whizzes into the station, bringing with it a much needed breeze, we see the train cars, FULL. But wanting to get back to our comfortable couches and flat screen television, we forged ahead. My StepFather pushes my Mother and me ahead, so that if anyone got stuck in the doors, it would be him....not much of a comforting thought. I got to within about two feet of the car and was met by a wall of humanity. I look to my left and right....more humanity. Perspiration begins to bead upon my forehead as I tilt my head back and try to find a happy place. Let me take a moment and mention that the red-line (the main line throughout DC) has the oldest train cars on it. The AC sometimes worked, sometimes didn't. At this point in the story, they weren't working at all to my knowledge. Okay, maybe they were working, but I couldn't feel it. My StepDad stayed behind me, making sure I was safe from that direction, and checked on me every minute and a half or so by whispering "are you okay?" Sweet guy. He had no way of knowing that my "yeah, I'm fine," meant that I was quickly becoming claustrophobic and was about to begin to claw my way to another car, regardless of who stood in my way. Oh, ya...and the only handles to hold on to were the ones in the ceiling.....so after walking all over DC....I have my armpit in other DCers faces....and they reciprocated in like manner.
As the train is carrying us to our next stop, my Mom catches my eye and silently asks if I'm okay....and silently reminds me to hang in there. I nod my head, hoping she realizes I'm close to passing out and only my will of iron is keeping me on my feet. Well, that and my StepDad acting as my human shield. Did I mention he's a great guy?
We make it to Metro Center. This is where anyone can change to any line (blue, orange, green or yellow) and go in any direction, needless to say it's a busy place. About 30% of the mass left. Unfortunately another 60% thought they could squeeze in. Amidst the yells of "I can't move!" and the occasional cry of a baby whose mother thought it would be a good idea to squeeze in....a loud and very authoritative voice rings out "I ain't gonna be pushed. Don't NO ONE run into me. I'm tellin you!" Now, this woman had been on the train for about two stops. And lo and behold, not one person attempted to move her. And I can guarantee no one bumped into her. She was also very vocal about what she thought of the mother and baby. The bad news was....this woman ended up directly in front of me, adding the pressure that if I bumped into her I would not only be humiliated but would probably get beat down DC style in the process. So now, I'm sweating profusely, my arm is still raised but is cramping up from the tight grip I've been holding on the bar for three stops (but I can't let go as I would run into LoudMouth LouLou's fist), I'm being squeezed from the right and left...especially from the left because BOB aka Big Ol Boy decided to stand there, and my StepDad is still trying to protect me and check on my welfare. I'm standing there with my eyes closed, concentrating on my breathing, praying, finding as Zen a place as was possible while being carried in what felt like a livestock trailer....and my StepDad whispers to me "Your Mom found a seat." I look up and my Mom is sitting down. Lovely. The person whose personal bubble had been decimated within two subway stops was stuck between Loud Mouth LouLou and BOBS (at this point it was Big Ol Boy Sweatin') and the calm one is sitting down. The AC was probably blowing right above her too!
The stop is Farragut North. The mass of bodies leaves the car so quickly it was almost as if they had never been there. Our stop is the next one, Dupont Circle. We exit the train and relive the last ten minutes through laughter and threats of "if I had my iPhone I would SO be writing a blog right now."
At the end of the week, my Mom reminded me, maybe the Lord was trying to teach me something about my personal space bubble.
I said "maybe." I couldn't really think what that would be, other than "Julie, if you can't handle the subway, don't move to the big city."
A lesson in which I will take to heart for the rest of my life.