I’m exhausted. And I was ready to hit the bed the moment I walked in the door. But there was a text message on my phone, an e-mail, a Facebook message, comments on the blog, all with a common theme: are you okay? For those who don’t know, an accident which Wikipedia is already terming “The 2009 Washington Metro Accident*”, a collision between two trains on the system’s Red Line, with seventy people injured and, so far, at least six dead.

I do ride the Red Long, but I’d been at the Bookstore since nearly 4:00, sprawled on a chair in the break room, reading a book while waiting for my shift to begin. I clocked in around 5:15 and went up to the registers to assist with a line.

I was at the registers, calling the next customer down, when the woman being rung up at the next machine answered her phone. Generally, I don’t like people who answer their phone when I or someone else is trying to help them — it’s rude, and it makes the transaction much more difficult.

However, any irritation I was feeling towards this lady quickly melted away, as her “inside” voice rapidly dropped off: “What? Collided on the red line? People are dead?”

A quick search on the internet turned up more information — and customers over the course of the evening, and employees calling in, provided more: two trains collided on the eastern portion of the Red Line, between Takoma Park and Ft. Totten. Seventy people were injured, one, and then four, and then six dead.

So the night was rather somber. Usually, there’s not much that we, as Bookstore employees, can do in a situation like that — we can offer a place for people to stay while they wait for the tracks to reopen, and we can provide some alternate transportation advice, as well. One woman was trying to get home to Van Ness, I don’t know if she actually walked the distance in her heels (I hope not), but I also advised her on the L2 and the Woodley Park Circulator route.

It’s not much, but in a situation like this, we all like to help out however we can, don’t we? And, hell, seven months ago? I wouldn’t have known what bus route to advise her to take. And, since I’d never done it, I don’t think I would’ve advised anyone to walk from Golden Triangle to Van Ness.

In fact, I walked home tonight — foot? Ouchie. (I’ve got a blister).

Yes, I’m fine. For the record, the Red Line runs a “U” shape from Shady Grove, MD (north of Rockville), into DC, then back out past Silver Spring, MD. My normal route on the Red Line is on the west side of the line, from Grosvenor to Farragut North. The accident occurred on the upper end of the east side of the line. I was concerned for a few of my coworkers who ride the Red Line in that direction, but they’re all okay.

It’s weird. Because people die in traffic accidents all the time, and in far greater numbers than any have died on the Metro system (according to Wikipedia’s page, a total of fourteen people have died in accidents on the Metro rail system since its inception, compared with … hell, I don’t even begin to know where to look to see how many people die every day in the DC area in traffic wrecks.

It kind of hit me, though, as I was walking home on Connecticut. I crossed a side street just south of Dupont Circle, as a southbound taxi on Connecticut skidded to a stop as a light turned red. Maybe it’s because our road system is almost anarchy — sure, we try to tame it with traffic lights, and lane dividers, and speed cameras, and traffic cops, but in the end, you’ve got one person in control of one very heavy vehicle, and as a result, the vehicle’s operation is directly affected by too little caffeine, or too much caffeine, or a long day at the office, or fumbling with the radio, or trying to fish a soda from the backseat.

But when we get on the Metro, we don’t expect chaos. Because the variables are fewer — there’s one operator, one rail, one train. The chances for some random schmoe’s human error to affect our lives provides the illusion of safety.** How did this accident happen? Was it operator error? A problem with the train?

We expect random chaos on our roadways. On the Metro, sure, we’ll put up with a certain amount of inconveniences that go with any aging public transport rail system, but we — or, at least, I — expect that when I enter a station, I will emerge at my destination safe and sound. And for six people in particular tonight, that expectation wasn’t met.

*As if to reassure the 700,000 of us who ride the Metro on a regular basis: “Hey, don’t worry about dying on the Metro until January 1st 2010.”

**The illusion of safety? I think the Metro is probably the safest way to travel in the District, but I’ll have to dig up numbers on deaths of motorists, and pedestrians first.

I came across this blog posting, “The Seven Types of Bookstore Customers“, from a former employee of the Bookstore who posted it to the store’s employee Facebook group. It is, in fact, quite accurate, except that at 9pm Saturday night? “Excuse me, sir? We’re closed. That means you need to leave. NOW.”

Anyway, here’s the a brief excerpt:

Seekers

The most straightforward of any of our customer types, the seekers want a book. A specific book: only this book will do. Prominent sub-types:

* High School Students: It was assigned by the teacher. They don’t have a choice.

* College Students: They mistakenly believe that 1. we’re actually stocking their textbooks, and 2. we’re going to be cheaper than the college bookstore. HA!

* Oprahites: according to reliable contemporary reports, by the 23rd Century Oprah is a religion. If the book was written by a guest on her show, fans want it. If The One True Host actually recommends the book, then booksellers must be prepared to defend themselves (against force) because some folks will be prepared to kill for it. “What do you mean you don’t have it? How can you be sold out? It was just on Oprah…” (logic doesn’t work on Oprahites)

* NPR listeners: Heard it on NPR. (it’s usually a good book, but we’re also not stocking it yet — and on top of that, I’ve been stuck at work while you’re listening to the radio; if you can’t remember the title I won’t be able to come up with it.)

* CNN/FOX/MSNBC/CSPAN BookTV/Daily Show/Colbert/Larry King/Today/Tonight/CBS Sunday Morning/et al. — same story here as NPR above: throw me a bone, give me a title or an author. It’s great you can relate to me your TV watching habits, but that doesn’t mean I can find your book.

* Trufans. “I want the new book by Author X.” And sure, I’ll try to help you with that. The Trufan ignores three salient points: 1. the author may not have a new book; 2. despite ads or reviews or internet rumors, the author’s new book may not be coming out for another 3 months, or 6 months, or a year (or ever); & 3. the author may in fact be dead.

Some customers will latch on, from the point where you ask, “can I help you?” to the very bitter end of the business day. They want recommendations, but discard all your suggestions out of hand. They switch from fiction to kids to biography to magazines to interior design and back to fiction and then on to board games (which you don’t even carry, but that they expect you to carry) with ease, and with a speed that will leave you breathless, changing topics even before you can answer their last question.

It’s so, so true.

I am not in Adams Morgan much. Usually, there are one of two scenarios, the most likely being that I choose to walk through Adams Morgan on my home from work as an alternate to my usual path, and the second being that I go to Adams Morgan to meet up with people and drink some beer. In fact, that’s why I was in Adams Morgan Saturday night, to celebrate a birthday.

You know what makes for a great morning walk in DC? A rain shower. It cools everything down, and there’s not much that doesn’t look better wet: colors just seem to pop as water beads.

Personally, I was just happy the rain stopped: I like walking to the Bookstore as much as possible, and thunderstorms and extreme heat (and beer) have been making that somewhat difficult lately.

I opted to vary my route into work yesterday: usually, I walk straight down Connecticut, and then detour to the store. Yesterday, I made a hard left onto Calvert, and cut down Biltmore onto 18th.

I’ve got to say: Adams Morgan is ugly on a Sunday morning.

And, let me clarify, because honestly? It totally shouldn’t be that way. Adams Morgan — at least, the 18th Street strip that I’m familiar with — has gorgeous architecture*, and a lot of the little breakfast cafes have festive decorations and nicely arranged patio furniture. There weren’t many people out, and not much traffic, either. Really, Adams Morgan has this sort of artist-colony vibe … which gets lost when it’s crossed with the whole frat-boy thing.

And that’s unfair, too, because it’s not just frat-boys drinking there, either, it’s just the best way I can think to describe, say, the upper level of Bourbon Saturday night, packed so tightly it was nearly impossible to go anywhere without forcing your way through and feeling the onrush of claustrophobia. I got into Adams Morgan around 9:30 the previous night, stayed until midnight, then made my way home as best as I could (I may have been weaving a bit).

But the trash — oh, the trash seems to coat Adams Morgan, except whereas rain prettifies stuff, the trash uglyfies it.

And there was a lot of it. Paper plates, and plastic cups, and napkins coated the sidewalk and a good part of the street. I passed a guy in a reflective vest who was using a rake (a rake!) to collect the detritus of the drunks into a garbage can, and that man is probably Adams Morgan’s unsung hero.

Sadly, sometime over the weekend I developed a blister on my right foot, and it didn’t take long once at work to realize a.) how much it hurt and b.) how much I would be taking the Metro home. Because I’d been looking forward to walking home through Adams Morgan once we closed. Fortunately, we close early enough on Sundays that there is still several hours of daylight, and Adams Morgan on an early Sunday evening is beautiful: there is no overwhelming mass of people to fight through, the noise level is loud but not obnoxious, and best of all? No gaggle of drunks. Really, it just feels like the hip urban neighborhood it’s seeming to have an identity crisis over being.

*If you ever stop to notice the building at the southeast corner of 18th & Columbia, the one with the McDonalds? It’s a beautiful gorgeous building with turrets and a rambling roofline.