Here’s how I remember it.
It was springtime in DC. I got on the Metro, as usual, on the red line at Takoma.
I actually got a seat. Damien and his father got a seat right in front of me.
Damien was about 3.
Almost immediately, Damien began singing a song. The tune was “Clementine.” It went like this:
Sunday, Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, Fri—day,
Saturday.
Sunday, Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday,
Thursday, Fri—day,
Saturday.
Damien could sing it loud. Damien did not tire of this song.
It was maybe 20 or 25 minutes to Metro Center, where I would switch to the blue/orange line to Smithsonian. However, I began to reason, I could get off a stop early, at Gallery Place, and switch to the yellow line to L’Enfant Plaza. I’d have to walk by the heroin addict under the bridge begging for money, but he was harmless enough. This endless repetition was doing some serious damage.
I can’t remember exactly what happened. The pain of it all outweighs the details. It’s possible that Damien and his father got off at Union Station, before Operation Gallery Place could be executed. I think they must have, because I remember the joy of all on the car when they left. Or was that a fantasy, merely an early-morning happy dream I kept trying to have?
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9 comments:
Funny! Poor Damien's father. Did you notice whether he was wearing earplugs, or do parents develop some sort of superhuman tolerance for such stuff?
Wasn't Damien the name of an evil kid in some movie?
I remember being on an airplane in front of a five-year-old Suzuki violin student. He tapped out "Mary Had a Little Lamb" on the back of my seat...from Pennsylvania to Atlanta.
Brilliant.
Helen: I think it must be superhuman. Susan: Yes, it was, although I don't go to those movies, so I can't remember which it was. And oh you poor thing to Atlanta.
That is a great story. Fantastic. And on the DC Metro no less! If you as much have a converastion during Rush hour people are shooting daggers at you.
Otter (and Helen): I'm sure a lot of us felt a little sorry for the kid's poor father. And Otter, I remember people being annoyed by conversations that were a little too loud. I left before cell phones were everywhere, so I can only imagine what that's like. I assume they work above ground...
Have you considered the possibility that you actually lost your mind thanks to Damien, and you never got off? Maybe you're still sitting there. MAYBE Damien is still singing. MAYBE you've concocted this whole elaborate imaginary life where you blog about songs, but at any time, the veil could lift, and you'd be right back there...
Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday...
mm: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Some cell phones now work in the UNDERGROUND part of the DC metro system, thanks to Verizon. Arrrrrgh!
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