NOTM – Local Man Makes Like Bradley Cooper in “Limitless”

Rockville, MD – On a rainy day off from work, Morris Herlis settled into a caramelized onion brown lounge chair at his local coffee shop. He readied himself with a medium cup of caffeine, cream, and caramel syrup that was much too sweet, as the shop’s folksy-blues-reggae music was just loud enough that he couldn’t quite understand the conversation across the room.

“That guy, Bradley Cooper, in the movie Limitless," Morris said having watched the movie alone last night, "he had serious writer’s block, but with a special drug he wrote a novel in three days."  He went to his own source to score some writer’s block drugs.  And enjoy an egg and cheese croissant. With his laptop plugged in and drugs coursing through his bloodstream, his creative writing outlet was powered.

Bradley Cooper didn't know he was inspiring Morris' epic composition.

"Now I'm ready to do some serious writing," Morris announced.  He brushed his fingers on the touch pad and opened a blank canvas. It stared back and Morris froze. The cursor blinking to his ever accelerating heartbeat. The artist in residence shied away, adjusted his jacket, and took off his shoes. “It’s easier to write with proper lumbar support and non-constricted feet,” he noted.

Ergonomically comfortable, Morris took a few bites of his croissant and washed it down with another concentrated drug hit. “Ya ever try counting the number of ceiling tiles in this place?  It's dizzying”.  He then gazed to the olive green walls with Santa Fe gold accents for inspiration, but an hour after settling into his chair, the screen remained blank.

Of the people in this picture, three of them are distracted from their writing assignments.

“I was just about to get started when a guy asked me to provide security detail for his laptop.” Morris graciously put his writing on hold while a mid-30s man with a shirt from Brooks Brothers and hair suited for the Berkeley Bowl went to the bathroom. "He finally came back two minutes later, but I lost all of my momentum. It’s really difficult to get back in that writing groove I was in before.”

Morris slumped in his chair and titled his head back for clarity.  The ceiling tiles were counted again.

Then the drugs started to work. Morris' head whipped down, his eyes widening, and fingers furiously firing.  The composition he had waited for spewed out quicker than he could type, "Dear Uncle Felix, Thanks for the gift."

He clicked send and left the coffee shop.

One Way to Help our Struggling Economy

Out of the mouths of every economist on TV and from the fingers of any financial columnist in town, it sure seems like our economy isn't doing so well these days.  I don't understand how our gross domestic product is calculated or the Modigliani–Miller theorem, but financial experts are telling me things are bad so I believe it to be so.

To improve our economy, I think we should look into how our food sources are managed and operated. And by food sources I don't mean the commodities traded in Chicago.  I mean the supermarket checkout experience.  If we improve our cashiers, we improve Wall Street.

At Safeway last night, I was trying to pay for just four items (humus, a cucumber, and two loaves of bread). I had a choice of six staffed checkout lanes and the self-checkout lanes. The self-checkout lanes averaged three people in line which took them out of the running because few consumers have ever been supermarket cashiers and I wasn't willing to watch someone learn the ropes as I did 15 years ago.

Avoid evil looks of incompetence from people behind you; use a real cashier who knows produce lookup (PLU) numbers.

Of the six staffed lanes, only one was an express lane for 15 items or less, but it had six people waiting. Often, the express cashier is one of the better cashiers, but with six people in line and only two waiting in normal checkout lanes, I went with line quantity over cashier quality. I chose a lane without a full conveyor belt and a full cart waiting to be loaded.  I added my items and a minute later, the customer at the front swiped his credit card while the cashier loaded his reusable bags.

At this point I would have been fourth in the express lane at this point.

My cashier began scanning the next family's items, handling them as delicately as you'd expect for a carton of eggs or loaf of bread, but not for the can of Cheez Whiz and box of brownie mix they were buying.  Then the mother thought it'd be okay for their two-year-old to hold the plastic container of cherry tomatoes.  One squeeze and they were on the floor and took away the cashier's attention.  I helped round them up of course; damnit if I'm going to lose to the express line.

After the cashier paused to make funny faces at the baby for a third time, the couple dumped a bunch of coupons on her to scan.  After a misunderstanding of the coupon's terms, the cashier bagged the groceries as though they were Faberge eggs.  Heaven forbid the brownie mix box has a dent.

At this point I would have been next in the express line.

Why are Safeway's cashiers slow when they're not even trusted to count coins?

Finally it was my turn in line.  The loaves of bread and humus scanned easily, but for some reason the cashier took her lazy-swing-in-a-hammock-time punching in PLU 4062 for the cucumber. I swiped my Safeway card, gave her cash, and waited much too long for her to return a 5-dollar bill and bag my four items.  Safeway cashiers don't even have to count coins from their drawers which is why this should be so much faster.  The express lane cashier was already onto her second person after me had I stayed in her lane.

I know that our country's cashiers can do better with just a little more training and desire. In 1996, I did my best to learn how to work the cash register, deal with personal checks, and remember PLU numbers.  I also took pride in packing paper bags with fragile items on top, sound foundations using boxy packages, and the proper weight per bag based on the customer's strength.  Perhaps I only took pride in the work because it paid for my Sour Patch Kids' habit.

To save the economy, I propose that Safeway improve its training to make cashiers more efficient.  More efficient cashiers encourage customers to shop for more items because of a better front end experience; which leads to more money going to the store; which leads to greater food sales; which increases demand for food industry jobs and production; which gives the food industry workforce disposable income to spend on items in other sectors; which increases jobs and product demand in those sectors and their supporting industries; which leads to a continual increase in spending across the economy.

Or maybe I just won't get those two minutes of my life back waiting to checkout at Safeway.

NOTM: Man's Life Changed 10 Years After College Park Tornado

Rockville, MD - Ten years ago today, a tornado ravaged College Park and the University of Maryland family.  Morris Herlis (MH) was living in his fourth floor apartment at University Courtyard with his roommate when a typical rainstorm came rolling through.  They left their rooms to take in the sights of lightning and sounds of thunder from the safety of their balcony.

That's when the rain started flying sideways and the afternoon sky turned dark.

After Morris' roommate found the wind too strong to make it safely down the exterior stairs, they convened at the kitchen island, holding on while their entire building swayed and creaked.

"Oh yeah I was scared.  I'm glad I went to the bathroom before the storm or it would've been a mess," Morris said over a 32-ounce blueberry Slurpee.  He contacted News of the Minutiae (NOTM) to explain how his life was impacted by the tornado.

Give a man a Slurpee and he'll talk a long time after the brain freeze.

NOTM: What damage did you see after the tornado?

MH: One car was flipped over, another was leaning next to a building.  My car's windows were gone and my other roommate's ceiling had a hole in it.  Lots of other buildings were messed up.  I even had to throw away a gallon of milk.

NOTM: Were you in shock afterward?

MH: Oh yeah, how I viewed my time on this planet was forever altered.

NOTM: Can you tell our readers in what ways?

MH: Well, back then, I had no cell phone.  Without that tornado, I may never have bought one.

Imagine a world before you could play Angry Birds.

NOTM: Did the experience cause you to live life differently?

MH: Oh for sure. Nowadays I double-knot my shoes, sleep with two pillows, and clean the dryer lint trap more frequently.

NOTM: How has your life changed in larger, more meaningful ways?

MH: My life these days is full of inane Twitter updates, empty Google alerts, and inconsequential Facebook statuses.  It was rough back then, we had none of those. 

NOTM: How ever did you survive the change to 2011?

MH: That's what I mean. My life wouldn't have been the same without this tornado. In fact, I no longer use my finger to clean out ear wax; I use cotton swabs.

NOTM: Sounds rough and off-topic. Have you become thankful each day you're alive?

MH: Sure, but only when someone asks me that.

NOTM: Does your level of fear increase when a tornado watch is issued for the DC area?

MH: I take it more seriously, but nowadays I fear losing my iPad, forgetting a 9-iron on the golf course, and fitting into last season's bathing suit.

NOTM: Right. Ok then. Other people volunteer their time after learning how precious it is, but you don't seem to have had such a life affirming experience.

MH: I don't regret it when my day is spent playing PS3 in my boxers, eating Lucky Charms, and drinking root beer. It's a bit cliche when someone says they live every minute to the fullest just because of a life event.  Eventually we all regress to lazy Saturdays.

NOTM: So you're saying that bad stuff happens to everyone and it's often out of your control, but what matters is how you deal with it?

MH: Precisely.  Like when you run out of body wash and improvise with shampoo.

How to Stay Cool on Metro

Now that we’re in a three-day cone of thermodynamical torture, here are tips on staying cool while riding Metro. None of these tips will work when you’re on a packed train, but then again, it’s your fault for not waiting all of three minutes for the much emptier train behind it.

1. Stuff your bladder. Guzzle the coldest water you can find before heading into the station to cool your core. If your platform is outside when temperatures are more than 100 degrees and humidity is off the charts, well then, it sucks to be you now doesn’t it?

2. Cannonball run. Find the nearest community pool and do a wicked cannonball splash entry. Now that you’re soaking wet, you’ll be nice and cool for the walk to the station.

Cannonball!!!

3. Find your vents. As indoor stations allow, go as far to the end of the platform as possible and find vents in station sign columns and underneath escalators. The vents should be pumping out cool air. I don’t know if the air is all that clean for your lungs, but it sure feels good. Best of all, broken escalators don’t guarantee broken vents.

4. Gatorade shower. Have two friends follow you around with a Gatorade jug. After you achieve a high score in Angry Birds, have them douse you with it like a football coach. You’ll be sticky, cool, and all sorts of lemon-lime awesome.

Bill Parcells and the 1986 New York Giants knew the secret to sticky coolness.

5. Remain still. While standing next to a vent, it helps if you don’t move. Nothing raises your sweat rate faster than burning calories. Remember, fanning yourself actually makes you warmer...so said “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy”!

6. Find that fire hose. Open valves to the Metro station fire hose and douse yourself. Spray water on everyone else too. Trust me, they’ll appreciate it.  The hose should have enough pressure that you don't have to place your thumb on the end to make a stronger stream like your garden hose.

7. Enter the first car. This will be air conditioned because the operator’s in there.  The 2nd car may also be an option because Metro cars are air-conditioned in pairs, but that’s assuming a lot about Metro’s mechanical reliability.

8. Freon immunization. Unhook the Freon tubing from the train and start drinking. If Freon keeps cars, trains, and refrigerators cool, just think what it’ll do for your intestines!

When I want to cool down, I drink dichlorodifluoromethane.

9. Find a seat. Save energy and calories by sitting because it’s easier than standing.  Surely your feet hurt from sitting in a cubicle all day. If you'll be going above ground, pick seats on the side of the train away from the sun.  If there are no seats, then enjoy Metro’s summertime eau de toilette, “Those Without Deodorant”.

9a. Avoid hot thighs.  If two seats are open together, grab the aisle seat and remain there until someone else wants to sit. Then take the window seat whose cushion will be cooler because nobody’s thighs were heating it up in the meantime.  I might be overthinking this.

9b. Back off. Try sitting forward so that your back isn’t pressed to the cushion. This will give it just a little more space to breathe and sweat itself out. Though, if you’re like me, your back sweats in perpetuity no matter what you do. Anybody invented back antiperspirant yet?

10. Pray. Remember that hell will never be as bad as standing armpit-to-armpit in a Metro train that’s stopped above ground for a schedule adjustment in July and August.

This is hell...stuck in a booth with sweaty Dick Vitale at a duke game.

11. Grab some metal. When you’re in an air-conditioned car with metal handlebars, grab any free handlebar space. The bar should be cool to the touch. Better yet, place the bottom of your wrists or entire forearm along a bar to better cool your blood. It’s biology, trust me, I’m a doctor. Keep touching other bars that feel cool, but be sure to shower in Purell when you get home.

12. Drive. Why are you taking Metro when it’s so freakin’ hot outside?! Instead, drive around in a motorized air conditioned metal box. It won’t be cheaper, better for the environment, easier, or safer, but it’s cool.

NOTM: Man Saves D.C. from Germ Attack

Smithsonian Metro Stop - There are many things that can kill us. Cancer, heart disease, Metro buses, that piece of gum you swallowed as a kid that's still in your stomach, a ninja pummeling you with nunchucks, and germs. Fortunately, Morris Herlis saved the entire DC metro area from one of these silent killers on Tuesday - during his lunch break.

When it's not a typical DC summer day full of high temperatures and humidity, Morris enjoys a gentle walk on the National Mall. On Tuesday, he was walking by a game of pickup ultimate frisbee that's too serious to be called "pickup", when a gust of pollen passed by.

Snot began to drip down the inside of his nose, but Morris' breathed in, his nostrils filling with air in a vain attempt to keep the snot inside. It was too late.  The pollen had opened a faucet of germs begging to get out. Another large intake of air only slowed fate.

Snot drips turn into a snot stream in no time.

"That snot kept on coming and coming. I didn't know my body could make that much stuff. Where was it coming from?" Morris wondered. As much as Morris loved trees for their shade, he despised them for their blossom fornication.

The snot continued to run. Wearing a polo shirt and lacking classy tactfulness to carry tissues, Morris pulled his left forearm, elbow to wrist, along his nose. His reward was a clear sheen coat of aligned hairs.

Morris walked by the Hirshorn Museum toward 12th Street and the Smithsonian Metro station. His snot volcano erupted again. Simple snot rockets would not suffice because there was no solid material to be found in this liquid waterfall. Morris used the only wiping surface he had left and decimated his right forearm hairs in a flood of snot.

Toilet paper, it's not just for wiping yourself anymore.

After another inhale to pull snot back inside, Morris was toast. His body wanted the snot out quickly. With many tourists wandering from one air conditioned museum to the other, the Mall was plenty full. Morris did not want to infect all of them, yet he could not keep up with the cubic centimeters of microbes that just had to rush out of his body.

"The dam in my sinus cavity broke. Nasty stuff and lots of it were on their way out." With a convulsion and jerk of the head, Morris unleashed back-to-back germ torrents destined to infect, annoy, and disgust hundreds of people.

But on this day, Morris did not act the fool. He acted in good conscious of his fellow citizen. He pulled his right arm to his face and sneezed into the space between his forearm and bicep.

Just don't put your arm around someone after.

Though his arm was now engrossed in gross fluids, he saved DC from his germ attack. Proud of his kindness, he entered the Metro station with a bounce in his step, ready to ride back to the office.

He boarded a near empty Metro train that became standing room only just two stops later at Metro Center. There he found himself rubbing shoulders with other passengers and exchanging germs on handrails. A woman's perfume tickled his olfactory system, but he did not have enough space to capture the sneeze carnage in his left arm. Milliseconds after it flew out of him, he felt the weight of other passengers' eyes, glaring at him and his germ containment failure. If only they knew his story.

NOTM: One Man’s Quest for His Last Pair of Collar Stays

Rockville, MD – Morris Herlis leads a quiet, regimented, and controlled morning existence. His pre-work routine is as regular as he is when he eats bran cereal. He knows where things are, when they will happen, and how they will happen – most of the time.

On Wednesday morning at 5:53, after his one allotted snooze button press, Morris rolled out of bed and trudged to the bathroom. He multitasked by shaving his face while emptying his bladder. After showering, Morris brushed his teeth before dressing, lest he risk dripping toothpaste on clean clothes. He is ruthlessly efficient and cautious.

Morris is sly enough to avoid making his shirt match his toothpaste.

With temperatures in the 70s, Morris decided that he wouldn't sweat so much that his blue long-sleeved, button-down shirt would require a visit to the dry cleaners before the next wearing. Feeling confident in his unironed and only semi-wrinkled khakis, Morris had his outfit ready.

Morris demonstrated his wealth of clothing procedural knowledge by deftly placing one leg in his pants and then the other without falling over. Able to zip his fly without catching any of himself in its teeth, he buttoned his pants before directing his black (p)leather belt through the specially designed loops around his waist and buckled it snuggly.

This almost makes getting dressed to go to work seem like fun.

Thanks to many Sesame Street lessons on how to button buttons, Morris closed his shirt, thereby saving the world from viewing his gangly mess of chest hair. He went to lower his collar when he realized they didn't have collar stays. Morris went to his jewelry box with its cuff links and watches, but didn’t find any collar stays there.

“I don’t know how my collar will stay down without those plastic wonder pieces,” Morris lamented. Indeed without collar stays, the tip of his collar would find its way to point up. Morris’ line of work demands a proper collar fixture.

Morris looked in his nightstand with its reading glasses, ear plugs, and athlete’s foot spray, but it was to no avail. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. He frantically tore through a pile of shirts destined to the dry cleaner and checked their collars only to find them empty.

Anyone serious about collar stays keeps them in a secure case.

Morris’ calculated morning routine schedule does not allow for slippage. When all goes according to plan, he’s out the door by 6:40, but it was already 6:45. With desperation in his voice, Morris said, “five minutes late already! I don’t wanna be stuck with the bus people again!”

Morris checked the laundry room floor, the catch-all drawer in the kitchen, and his suitcase toiletry bag. It was 6:48 and Morris had searched everywhere and found nothing. He was now assured a Metro ride with the bus people which meant getting a seat would be more difficult. Also, Morris is pretty sure he is allergic to them.

To clear his mind, Morris went about getting his shoes, socks, and bag ready. Next, he went to the bathroom and put a glob of L.A. Looks styling gel in his hands. He looked at the mirror to style his hornet’s nest hair when he saw something – his shirt also had buttons near the tips for collar stays. His collar would be securely unpopped after all! Morris cracked a smile despite running an ungodly 12 minutes late.

He grabbed the edge of his left collar and began buttoning it except he hadn't washed his hands. The collar was no longer white, but electric blue from the L.A. Looks gel smooshed into the threads. Morris would have to start the process again. Collapsing to his knees, Morris’ shirt was done and so was he.

NOTM: Man Eats Mysterious Food Off Floor and Lives

Rockville, MD - Morris Herlis was hungry, parched, and nearing death last night. It was 11:30 and his last meal, some four hours earlier, consisted of two Hot Pockets and a bowl of Frosted Flakes. He needed energy if he wanted to win his online deathmatch in the videogame, Battlefield Bad Company 2, on his Playstation 3. Morris was an entire flight of stairs away from the kitchen, but he might as well have been miles away.

Morris knew that firing a Russian RPG-7 85mm anti-tank grenade launcher demanded high levels of Frosted Flakes.

Fueled by the unrecognizable ingredients that combine to make a Hot Pocket, mixed with the sugar rush of Frosted Flakes, Morris was transfixed to his TV for hours without interruption. A marathon performance to make whatever an ultra marathoner would envy. His reflects were quick that night. His pupils were fully dilated. He was unstoppable.

"Man, I was in the zone," Morris said. "I had maximum concentration. I only saw the TV and nothin' else." Morris' supreme tunnel vision and concentration allowed him to "shoot those online punks" for all of the glory that comes from playing a videogame late at night, alone, in your underwear.

According to various reports, consisting of Morris telling his story to NOTM multiple times, his sugar rush began crashing at 11:15. He maintained a moderate attention level for another ten minutes thanks to the water retention that comes from 1,620 mg of sodium in two "cheeseburger" Hot Pockets.

Giving you the power to play videogames for hours and the sodium to retain gallons of water.

"I was really starting to hit the wall by 11:25, but my squadmates needed me to capture the flag." Morris' game would last another ten minutes, but his sugar level was falling quickly from oversaturated early onset diabetes to merely normal. He was fading and legitimate resources seemed unattainable.

"Then I remembered survival skills I learned on 'Man vs. Wild' with Bear Grylls. Something about feeling around your surroundings for anything edible." Morris patted the floor below the sofa for nutrients. In a miracle that would make Moses proud, he found pretzel rods and an oatmeal raisin cookie from a Super Bowl party three months ago.

Bear Grylls eats real food in the wild like raw fish, not sofa crumbs.

Determined to finish his videoggame and not leave the sofa, Morris rammed the stale pretzels in his mouth, finding them "slightly chewy and soft". To counter the saltiness, Morris had no choice other than to eat the sweet oatmeal raisin cookie, noting that it was covered in unidentified "bits of something" with hints of belly lint.

"When you're in the wild, normalcy goes out the window," Morris said. Apparently, so does rational thought, self respect, and healthy eating habits.

Infused with a home-brewed mixture of under-the-sofa, salty and sweet calories, Morris finished playing his game for another few minutes before peeling himself off the cushions. From there he went to bed with little to relish in having lost tonight's deathmatch and all levels of decency.

NOTM: Metro Rider Avoids Giving Seat to "Undeserving" Elderly Woman

Rockville, MD - Rush hour Metro rides can be hellacious. Long commutes without sitting are torturous. And not giving up a seat to an elderly woman is obnoxious.  Morris Herlis' was obnoxious to avoid the torture of a hellacious ride this morning and NOTM was there.

Morris rides the red line from Shady Grove to downtown D.C. every weekday morning. "I hate getting on a train after 7 [am] 'cause you have to deal with the 'bus people'." The Shady Grove station is an important bus terminal for Montgomery County. "They go to the turnstiles as one mass of humanity and I have no shot at a seat. Such arrogance." Morris' claim that they smell, get caught in doors, and are "lame" were unfounded by NOTM.

"If I'm really running late and catch a train around 8 [am], I not only deal with a greater concentration of bus people, but also the older folks who don't move quickly." Morris, not one to shy from ageism, is not a fan of any demographic other than the one he's in.

 

Morris doesn't discriminate.  Bus people of all kinds are obstacles to his Metro ride.

When NOTM caught up with Morris this morning, he was on the train at 8:17. Having ran through the tunnel to beat the latest wave of bus people up the escalators, he grabbed the last empty seat - a seat for the disabled and elderly when necessary. He sat next to a man in a full leg cast and across from a blind woman and a man with a walking cane.

Morris read his Washington Post Express without issue until the White Flint stop. It was there that 78-year-old Beth Steinkatz, one month removed from her second broken hip surgery in the last year, boarded the train. Unable to maneuver herself into one of the row seats many had offered her, she assumed the least disabled and elderly rider sitting in the four special seats would offer her a place to rest.

Never one to be kind, generous, and charitable, Morris buried his head in the newspaper. "The moment I saw granny weeble-wobbling her way aboard, I kept reading. I kept my eyes low enough because keeping my seat mattered."

This is a NOTM reenactment of Ms. Steinkatz and her cane if she was a he.

Ms. Steinkatz continued staring down Morris, but to no avail. Pleas from passengers to "standup and don't be a douche" and "stop being a jerk, we know you hear us" had no effect. Ms. Steinkatz had no choice, but to stand the rest of the way.

Finally, Morris neared his stop, well rested to be sure, and got into position for his station. "I'm at the door one station before mine so I can easily beat the bus people and everyone else out to my station's exit. Nobody wants to be behind the stench of those weirdos."

The door opening chime rang as Morris stood by the door. Ms. Steinkatz took her cane and jammed it into his back, not-ever-so politely pushing him out the door - one stop early. Amid clapping and cheers, she took Morris' seat and waved goodbye to him and his sullen face on the platform. 

How to be Romantic on D.C.'s Metro

Let's say you're a regular Metro commuter on your way home this Monday when you realize that it's Valentine's Day and you have nothing for your significant other (SO). Here are some tried-and-true options that are all around you.

Go retro with anti-E-readers. Anyone can buy a Kindle or iPad for a SO, but you're better than that; you're not a lemming. So go retro by bringing home a copy of the Washington Post Express and Washington Examiner. If your SO's a newshound and has a political lean, only bring one of them home lest you want another fight with your SO.

Soon an entire generation won't know which came first.

Create a tapas dinner. Though Metro's no food or drink policy has been around a long time, that shouldn't stop you from providing a grand tapas meal. Go on and grab the partially opened bag of Doritos on the window pane, the box of Sour Patch Kids from the floor, and the other half of that Otis Spunkmeyer chocolate chip cookie. If you're lucky, you might find some McDonald's chicken nuggets at the top of the escalator on your way out. Your SO would appreciate them even more if they're still in the box. Don't forget to wash things down with the almost empty bottle of Mountain Dew rolling down the aisle.

Grab a seat toward the back for optimal drink and food opportunities.

Provide chauffeur limousine service. If your SO is always asking for rides to and from the station, around town, or to the airport, grab some bus schedule pamphlets. They're great reading material after the retro E-readers and your SO won't have to bum rides off of you. When asked if you can give a ride to BWI, just say, "there's a bus route for that". If the SO is a world traveler, grab some MARC train schedules too. It's the gift that keeps on giving (you back your free time). SOs everywhere will be driven where they want, sort of when they want, and in vehicles that they may confuse for limousines if they're hallucinating.

Imply you want a future together. Near the bus pamphlets, grab a flyer warning you of future Metro repair delays and escalator outages. Earn bonus points by bringing home road construction public meeting notices too. These show that you're thinking about the future with your SO; at least how it'll impact your commutes. Nobody appreciates foresight and long-term relationship planning more than your SO.

Create a homemade romantic card. In this age of Twitter, you must be brief with your words. Pickup a Metro card from the ground and write something sweet on it using 15 characters or less depending on your handwriting size. "I love you" is only 10 characters, but "I don't care about our relationship enough to remember this day" is just too long and honest. Don't have a pen? Borrow one from the station manager or grab one from just below the third rail; I've heard there are some great Montblancs down there.

No SO can be upset when your card is covered with pandas.

Listen to live music - Plan A. Take your SO on a Metro ride around 9 am on a weekday, staying between Metro Center and Gallery Place. This ensures you'll overhear music playing on several incessantly loud iPods. If you don't like the genre, move to another car until you find one that sets the romantic mood. Keep changing trains to keep the musical jackpot surprises coming.

Listen to live music - Plan B. If your SO is picking you up from the station, have them park the car and walk back to the station entrance to take in the local and live music scene.  Undoubtedly, you won't find great musicians, but you might find the 5% that are bearable. If anything, you'll be hip to the area's up and coming guitarists, paint bucket drummers, and Peruvian flutists.

Buy a $5 bouquet of flowers. Flowers are a great sign that you care, even the wilted ones from the flowerseller outside the station. At $5 for a bouquet, you'll get credit for caring and being fiscally responsible by not buying from a local florist whose flowers are needlessly arranged well, tasteful, and better still - alive.

Bring home this Diego Rivera painting called "The Flower Seller" and you'll really make your SO happy.

Take the SO to an amusement park. If you follow Plan A to Listen to Live Music, remind your SO that a Metro ride doubles as a rollercoaster. Make sure you're both standing up and see who gets sick last from a herky-jerky manually automated ride. Maybe you want to impress by not grabbing a handle for balance - how athletic! It's a fun experience that's all included in the price of admission.

Just remember Valentine's day next year. If these don't match your SO's lofty expectations, then remind them that it's better than last year's gift - a jar of belly lint.