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An Open Letter to Metro

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Dear Metro,

I love you but we need to talk. A friend and I recently rode one of your trains down to the Museum District to join another friend staying at the Hotel ZaZa. I didn’t want to pay $22 to valet park my car, see, and the train was a cheaper option. After walking out my door, I was at the hotel in around 20 minutes, just a dollar poorer and quite fond of you.

Metro, that silly hotel is a lot of fun. We hung out by the pool, ordered room service and chatted away until it was quite late and time to take the train home. We got to the northbound stop around 12:30, bought our tickets and waited. And waited. We were sure our train was coming, because we kept hearing announcements for trains going south. But after about 20 minutes, somebody wandered by and informed us that the last northbound train had left at 12:18. Defeated, we decided to just walk home.

Eventually, we came upon a crew of workers cleaning the track. I stopped to ask a Metro cop what the deal was with the train service – why it was running one way and not the other, and why they couldn’t clean the track during off hours. He said he didn’t know. Then he did something that restored my faith in you, Metro – and my faith in cops in general. He took pity on us and offered us a ride. You’ve hired a good egg in that cop.

Anyway, the point of this letter is to ask you to please post your schedule at each Metro train stop. Or, if that isn’t possible, at a minimum, turn off the damn ticket machine if the trains aren’t running. It just seems unfair that you sold us two tickets for a train that was never coming. In the back of the cop car, I told the officer I thought Metro shouldn’t sell tickets it couldn’t honor. “Yeah,” he said. “But that would make too much sense, wouldn’t it?”

Don't worry, though, Metro. I'm still a big fan. Up until 12:18 a.m.

Love always, Cathy Matusow

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