By Elizabeth FlockRead it at the Washington Post
I didn't know you three months ago when I moved to Washington from Chicago. I knew the El, which runs on time, doesn't do random searches, and would never, ever tell me not to eat my breakfast on the train.
I have to tell you something, Metro. You're late. All the time. This morning you stood me up when I had a meeting at work to get to. For half an hour I stood on the platform. You kept me hanging when the "Mad Men" finale was starting and my roommate disabled TiVo. I've fallen in your potholes you call construction one too many times. I've broken a sweat on the way to a date when the Woodley Park escalator was broken, again. And that thing you call a SmarTrip card? I'm onto you. I figured out pretty fast that that card charges me just the same.
What about when I want to get home late at night, after getting better acquainted with your city's watering holes, and I need you the most? You're not there at all. You're shut, with cold metal bars blocking your entrance. Should you really expect me to keep coming back?
But that's the problem, Metro. I will come back, because I love you.
Ever since I met you, Metro, I can't get enough. I'm there every morning from Woodley Park to Farragut North, and every night I take you home.
I could get to work another way. Capital Bike Share looks pretty tempting some mornings, with those glistening red bikes all lined up in a pretty row. I could walk, try the bus or drive. I don't. I take you.
Because you're easy. And you're there. Your yawning ceilings make me feel small, but in a good way. Your SmarTrip card makes me feel important. Your scary octopus Metro map has tentacles that go everywhere I want to go. I've read countless Express newspapers while hanging on to the overhead rail for dear life. And it turns out, by forcing me to eat breakfast at home, you make me a better person. These days, my dress stays coffee-free all day.
I hate that I love you, Metro. But I do.
A lot of us do. We're taking you more every day.
This is my love letter to the Metro. What's yours? Tell me why -- despite the delays, the broken escalators, the constant problems -- you still love the Metro. Write it in the comments or send a tweet using the hashtag #metroloveletter.