<Paul> The Intuitive Rider
Regular metro riders quickly develop a "feel" for their daily commute; they learn to process subtle visual and auditory cues that go unnoticed by the tourist or weekend rider. With a glance, the intuitive rider can gauge the vital statistics of the day's commute: is it more crowded today than usual? less busy than yesterday? are the trains backed up?
I ride in the last of six cars from Metro Center to Takoma every afternoon. My intuitive assessment of the crowd begins as I step on the escalator down to the platform. I'm like an experienced park ranger estimating the crowd on the lawns during a weekend outdoor concert. Usually, just by glancing at the people standing, waiting for the train, I can predict how pleasant my commute will be. A sparsely distributed crowd -- the kind I most often see because I tend to leave work at 6:30 or 7:00pm -- means that I'll be able to sit where I like: close to a door (but not in a senior citizen or handicapped section), in the inside seat, and maybe even without a neighbor.
A slightly larger crowd (that's the thing with intuitive cues, I can't put into words how much bigger the crowd needs to be, but if you showed me pictures of people on platforms I could shout out my report like a savant counting spilled jelly beans) and I'll be sitting on the aisle, somewhere far from any door in the middle of the car. Add a few dozen more people, and I'll have to sprint to the one or two empty seats on my car -- probably beating out a mother laden with children and bags in the process. One more step up, and I'll definitely be standing, but with enough breathing room to pull out my book and read. At the next level, I'll forget about the book, and just stare solemnly at the other miserable commuters. Crowd even more people onto the platform -- and at this point all it would take is one sadistic shove and someone would end up on the tracks -- and I'll be standing cheek-to-jowl as temperatures and tempers rise. Finally, anything past this level and I'll turn heel, and wander through the Hecht's above Metro Center for a half hour.
But, the quality of my predictions from the top of the escalator can't compare to the gut instinct I feel as the train emerges from the tunnel. All it takes is a glance at the first three cars of the six car train, and I know with great accuracy and detail what the last car will look like. The first car is always less crowded than the second, and the second less than the third, but I can tell by looking at the three whish by, exactly what the day's commute will be. </Paul> <!--7:53 AM-->
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