I climbed aboard an Orange Line Washington Metro train this morning and wound up sitting on the damned thing for over an hour (I was deeply engrossed in a book) before calling Mrs. Paco to let her know what was going on. She told me that she had checked the web site and there were a couple of tunnel fires, and that the Orange Line service had been cancelled. I suppose that must have been the message the motorman was giving us over the intercom, but unfortunately, the intercom system on this train (as on so many of them) is so fouled up that all I heard was "Attention...shssssst...trains at....shsssst...due to...pop...whizzzz...and...shsssst...your patience." I finally just had Mrs. Paco come pick me up at the station.
Even though it means I'll be that much closer to handing in my dinner pail, I can't wait for the next three years to be over. Then I can escape from Washington and the bureaucracy and the deteriorating subway service and the sheer miasma of the region's infernal politics and head for healthier climes.