This is another in my series on living in the incredible hell hole that is Washington, DC — a city in which you get murdered every day you venture out the door, or at least used to before King Donald stepped in to save the day. Now, he says, there is NO CRIME in DC.
Taking advantage of our now crime-free status, I went to a dental appointment downtown. I decided to see if I could improve the entire experience through exercises in “cognitive reframing” — changing the way I think about the experience.
It’s not that I hate visits to the dentist. Not at all. But I must admit a visit to the dentist simply doesn’t compare to, say, a colonoscopy.
Anyway, much to my surprise, I got to practice cognitive reframing as soon as I boarded the Metro to downtown DC. I left early because the DC Metro is, well, the DC Metro. I got to the station, saw the train was already there, and ran down the stairs, leaping aboard before the doors closed. But the doors didn’t close. Instead, we waited. With all the seats taken, I stood in the aisle. “This is fine,” I thought. “I will be sitting in the dentist’s chair for an hour or so. I don’t need to sit now.” Cognitive reframing.
Eventually, the train operator got on the intercom and explained that we were waiting for another train to come through a single-tracking zone. “Glad I left early. This will be fine,” I thought.
Moments later, a young man sitting in the seat adjacent to where I was standing asked me, “Sir, do you know how to tie a tie?” “Yes, I do,” I said. Because I do.
He took a tie out and held it up to me. “Could you show me?”
“Of course. Let’s get your jacket off first. It will be easier.” In the cramped seat, he struggled to take off his jacket, but the woman next to him helped. (It was pretty clear that she was not with him.) She then said, “I’ll take it,” and proceeded to fold the jacket neatly and put it in her lap.
I said, “I’m not too good at putting ties on other people, so I’ll show you how to do it.” (Teaching a man to fish is better than giving him a fish anyway, I thought.)
I then asked “Are you left-handed or right-handed?”
“Left-handed.”
“So am I,” I said. Because I am. “Let’s get this around your neck with the wider side here. I like to wrap the wider side twice around,” which I proceeded to do. “Then you loop the wider side under the knot and then through it,” which he and I did together. “Okay, then you pull down on the wider side to tighten the knot, and pull on the narrow side to raise the knot to your neck. Don’t pull it too high or you’ll choke.” We looked at the finished product, which frankly looked a lot better than what I usually do when I put on my own ties. I assessed the length, and he asked me how low it should go. “Around waist height, not covering your parts.”
As we helped him back on with his jacket and made sure the jacket collar was down and neat, I asked, “Job interview?”
“No, first day of work. On the Hill.”
“Awesome,” I said, “With the shutdown, this may be an easier time to start working up there. Less going on.” More cognitive reframing.
With that, we were done, the doors closed, and the train finally started to move. I resumed staring off into space, thinking that it was a lot easier to do this with the train stopped than it would have been if we were moving. Cognitive reframing.
At one point, I looked up from my reverie and a woman in a seat down the aisle made eye contact and put her hand up to her heart.
Yes, this is such a hell hole–this place we call home.
