My morning commute: Coffee and paper in hand I am greeted with smiles and “Have a nice Day” by metro workers and the people who hand out the free Express paper. The office workers like me provide a fashion show of style choices. There are women in sparkling saris, girls in expensive dresses and flip-flops, colorful hijab. There are babies laughing, babies crying, people getting in that last snooze button rest, lost tourists counting the number of stops again and again searching for the Smithsonian exit staring in wonderment and clogging the escalators. There are chefs and Hill staffers, security guards, baby mamas with hair styles like art braids twisted into an array of sculpture.
I exit up out of the tunnel into the bright day and am pushed forward by the energy of the pulse of the city. People in cars and honking taxis, buses offloading commuters from other states, cyclists speeding by and homeless people waking up a with a stretch that reminds me to let go of my pre-coffee grumpiness. I pause in admiration at the girls who can bike among traffic in skirts and heels, a talent I have not yet mastered.
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