Oh, Metro lawsuits.

I think it is completely fair to suggest that the Metro System is in some way responsible for the accident which occurred two weeks ago. But what gets my blood boiling are some of these lawsuits which blame Jeanice McMillan.

Specifically:

Both lawsuits claim McMillan, the operator of the striking train, “failed to keep a proper lookout for trains lying ahead, failed to maintain an appropriate rate of speed, failed to activate the emergency brake in time to avoid the collision and failed to pay proper attention to the track.”

Bit by bit, shall we?

Part One: McMillan “failed to keep a proper lookout for trains lying ahead.”

False. As explained in great detail on Farm Fresh Meat, the tracks are not completely visible (they loop around a building and some trees). McMillan couldn’t see the other train until she was about 500 feet away, and with a speed limit of 59 miles an hour, six or seven seconds after seeing the stopped train would come the impact. Metro’s trains are rated to stop at a rate of 3.2 mph per second — in other words, it would need about 800 ft to stop.

Part Two: McMillan “failed to maintain an appropriate rate of speed.”

But if Metro itself has rated the track for 59 miles-per-hour, shouldn’t the blame lie with the Agency and not the operator of the train? Especially if Metro relies on automated sensors, and the sensor fails, and no one knows … I don’t see how this can be pinned on McMillan.

Part Three: McMillan “failed to activate the emergency brake in time to avoid the collision and failed to pay proper attention to the track.”

But again, taking a look back at what we now know, by the time McMillan saw the other train stopped, she had less then six seconds to react. And indeed, accident investigators found evidence that the emergency brake was activated. I mean, sure, it was too late to avoid the collision — but that had more to do with line of sight and where the other train was stopped. As for McMillan’s alleged failure to “pay proper attention to the track” … but if she hadn’t been playing proper attention to the track, she probably wouldn’t have even noticed the stop train until she was dead!

In terms of Metro’s responsibility, the suits claim that “by placing operator Jeanice McMillan in that specific position knowing that she had limited or insufficient prior experience as a Metro train operator, limited or insufficient prior training, and limited or insufficient prior or current supervision in that capacity, WMATA failed to exercise reasonable care.”

Bullshit. Please explain to me what a more seasoned train operator could have done differently that would have prevented the accident? Maybe he could’ve just stopped the train for no reason what-so-ever.

I find the lawsuits naming McMillan as a responsible party to this accident to be completely disrespectful to her, and ignorant of cold, hard facts. Here’s another cold hard fact I’m trying to wrap my brain around: it’s easier to blame a dead operator, because he or she cannot provide their side of the story. Goddammit, not good enough. A case can be built against the Metro System without having to stoop to defame a woman who reacted in literally a split second to activate the emergency brake to try to save her passengers. Jeanice McMillan died a hero, she deserves to be remembered as such.

The thing about getting older if you realize adults weren’t kidding when they said they just bought Playboy for the articles, because, really, the porn in it is pretty damn boring. Before I learned that lesson, however, I thought Playboy was the cat’s meow. And, indeed, there are times when I wanted a copy of the magazine: like, for instance, when Charisma Carpenter was featured. Even though I was well into my mid-twenties at that point, I did not pick up a copy myself, rather I asked an employee of the pizza shop I was managing to snag a copy on his way back from a run.

Because there are some things I’m not comfortably buying in a store, even if by store I mean “a run down little corner market staffed by some geriatric foreigner who doesn’t speak a lick of English.”

So flash forward five years (to last night), and I’m sorting some CDs at the Music Information desk at the Bookstore before I reshelve them. An attractive woman with a stack of bargain children books under one arm comes up to the desk with a “please, help me” expression on her face and I smile and ask her, “What are you looking for?” In a fairly thick Spanish accent, she says, “This, please” and hands me a yellow notepad with a title written on it.

I read the title, and immediately felt obliged to ask her, “This is the title that you want? Or did someone ask you to pick this up for them?” And I asked this because A.) I was expecting a family-friendly title, given the kids’ books she’s holding and B.) quite a long while ago, a couple guys in an office somewhere nearby decided to play a prank on one of their coworkers by asking her to stop by our store and pick up a book they’d put on hold. The book was “Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women“, and the woman they played this prank on was somewhere between a mental breakdown and an apocalyptic fit of destruction and rage when I brought the book over to the register. Really, I felt sorry for those guys.

But no, the woman at the desk last night assured me this was a title she wanted, for herself. The title? “Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women.”

First thought: Seriously? This is a book you’re willing to come in to a Bookstore and try to find? And not being able to find it, you ask for help? Honestly, I’d have to dredge every last ounce of courage just to take any of our wide and vast pornographic collection up to the register, never mind asking someone for help finding something like it. Brave, brave lady.

And, yes, we do have a “wide and vast pornographic collection”: much of it is scattered, particularly amongst our assorted Art and Photography sub-sections, which include a book of glossy photos of ladies’ underwear for fetishists, along with the art-nude books, but most of it is in our Sex section (duh). The Sex section includes a giant book with a pink cover and an illustration of a penis, titled simply, “Penises”. Can’t tell you how much I love reshelving that title (which is to say, I tend to just leave it where it is). In addition to hosting the Kama Sutra, the section also holds a wide variety of sex guides, including, The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex For Women. Well, it didn’t hold it last night, because we were out. And being that we were out, I gallantly volunteered to see if any of our other stores in the area had a copy.

The guy who answered the phone at our store on Wisconsin Avenue broke out laughing when he entered the inventory number in the computer and saw the title. He put me on hold for a far too brief time period, and I suspect he couldn’t keep from laughing long enough to actually go check the shelf. I had a rather similar experience from the next two stores I called — one poor guy made it sound like the Devil would steal his soul if he ventured into their Sex section, and couldn’t find someone to check for him — but on my fourth call, I hit pay dirt.

Thank you, Alexa (made-up-name). Because I gave her the inventory number, and she pulled it up, and she was all-a-giggle, but not in a “I wouldn’t touch this book with a ten foot pole kind of way”, but a “Oh my god! That’s my favorite section!” My kind of lady. And thirty seconds later, she was back on the phone. “I’ve got it! And you owe me!”

Er, I do? Because, look: I am not the one trying to put my penis up this customer’s ass (not that I would object). As far as I’m concerned, the customer, or whomever’s penis the customer wants to put up her ass, owe Alexa for finding said book.

Well. Maybe it depends on how Alexa wants to be owed.

Sadly, the best part was the customer’s last name. Because I feel at least a bit of responsibility to keep things a little anonymous, I won’t be publishing it. Feel free to guess, however.