This morning I jumped on a typically sardine-crowded red line train. Tons of interns crowding the doors, of course, but the worst of all was the Skintern wearing a zebra print tank top, with soaking wet hair. (I guess she spent so much time on her Friday-night-going-to-McFaddens-makeup that she didn't have time to dry it?) Little Miss Skintern had wrapped her entire body around a pole smack dab in the middle of the car. I looked her in the eye and said, "You know, a lot more people could hang on to this pole if you could remove yourself from it. I promise, when the train stops, you won't fall over." Skintern glared at me, rolled her eyes, said, "What if I don't move?" and continued to hang on to the pole, blocking at least six people from using it, boring holes into the back of my head while I read my paper.
I kind of wanted to get off at Farragut North with her just to trip her up the escalator, but I'm guessing Skintern would do a good job of that on her own. God I love Intern Season.