So That’s Why Shampoo Bottles Have Instructions

As I was just starting to fall asleep on Tuesday night, my non-existent security system beeped twice to annunciate that we had lost power. Thanks for breaking the news to me. After using my cell phone, that did a great job doubling as a flashlight to help me find and unplug a few appliances, I returned to bed and set my phone’s alarm. I put my head on the pillow and hoped the power would come back sooner rather than later, so I wouldn’t have to have an uncomfortably sweaty sleep. Once again, as I was just starting to fall asleep, the same non-existent alarm began to quickly beep three times every 30 seconds. It proceeded to do this for at least five minutes (which is how long it took me to fall back to sleep).

Don't forget the water!

I slept through the night and awoke a little more than groggy, but I pressed forward with my showering and dressing. Things were going smoothly and I felt no residual from a poor night of sleep until I combed my hair. With each pull through, soap suds were becoming more apparent. I had put a dab of gel in my hair, but this was ridiculous. Gel is not supposed to make suds. In one of my less than finer moments, I had forgotten to fully wash out the shampoo! My streak of several thousand successful rinse, rather, repeats was over in a flash, or rather a brush, or rather a stroke of bad luck, or rather I can’t think of anymore puns.

Even a toupee needs a good wash.

You know how you’ll see a sign or instruction and wonder why someone would ever need to read them? Like a new steak knife set with a Do Not Swallow warning or McDonald’s coffee with a Caution: Hot sign on the cup. Well that’s because someone has tried to swallow a knife or didn’t want to admit to knowing that the hot coffee in their cup would also be hot if it landed on bare skin. They complained there was no such language telling them not to do it, so now there’s a burgeoning field of corporate law called, “Covering Yourself From Idiot Usage.” Though not as dangerous, but just as embarrassing, feel free to add me to the list of people who need the idiot usage naturally-understood-from-birth shampooing instructions printed on every bottle.

Metro’s Newest Express Train Works For Me, Not For Others

On Monday, I took the red line from Farrugut North up into Montgomery County’s nether regions. It started off like a typical workday with sardines fitting into spaces that are too small, and a few people (foreign tourists) who lack that one thing Americans enjoy…deodorant. Really nothing new, but worth mentioning. According to Metro, the ride from Farragut North to Woodley Park-Zoo/Adams Morgan takes four minutes and covers 1.7 miles. I guess it was my lucky day because our train’s operator tried to take at least a minute off the commute by skipping Dupont Circle. No, she didn’t take a secret express rail, she (and the train) just skipped Dupont Circle entirely!

The train stopped a few cars past the platform and went dark except for the lights over the doors. A minute later we were told that we wouldn’t be stopping at Dupont Circle (really?!) and that (to Metro’s credit) a train was being held at Woodley Park to take passengers back to Dupont Circle. In the end, my ride wasn’t all that express, even with one less stop, but an express route to the MD or VA suburbs would be appreciated as long as it’s planned and we’re made aware of it before boarding.

Sunday – Back to Life, Back to Reality (yep, an actual music reference in my blog)

We said goodbye to everyone and the makings of a sunny beach day to hit the road by 7:30. Just like the drive there, we didn’t hit traffic and were home 4.5 hours later (including a bathroom pit stop). I ordered some Chinese (lunch and dinner), we unpacked, and then sat on the couch where we proceeded to watch about 5 hours of TiVO to catch-up with the shows we missed. Sure it was nice to be home again, but it’s hard to top a week of great weather, people, and food at the beach. Next time, I’ll telecommute from my home at the beach.

Oh OBX, how do I love thee...

Saturday – Brew-Thru Shirts and Last Minute BPHTN

As the last full day of the trip, everyone did their last minute purchases including Brew-thru t-shirts (I went with the green this time). My SO and I went to Sonic for my first time. It’s a shame there aren’t any around MD, despite plenty of TV advertising that implies the contrary (the nearest one is 84 miles away). In addition to my cheeseburger, I went with a cherry slushie that hit the spot. After some seasoned shrimp for dinner we held our semi-annual fireworks showcase. We upgraded our set this year, but it started repeating itself after a while. There are only so many ways you can fire sparks without repeating. Other people along the beach were launching real fireworks that we learned were available in South Carolina (and illegal to use in NC).

Legal fireworks don't leave the ground.

Afterward, we went out to the deck to look at the meteor shower. I saw two “shooting stars”, but by 11 we had all had enough and went inside for one last game of Taboo. I was suddenly very tired, but I pressed on since it was the last night in the OBX afterall.

Friday – Labia, Labia, Labia

This was one bad weather day, but did have a few moments of sunshine. The ocean was still rough and coming up to our small sand dune so the beach was a washout (chortle, chortle, chortle). We made a quick trip to urgent care to take care of an infection in my big toe from a hangnail. I was given a choice of antibiotic and lancing it, or antibiotic and soaking it in hot water. I went the easy way and continued soaking it as I had done before. Within 24 hours, I was able to push on my toe in the hot water and fire a pus rocket (it was as gross as it sounds), nixing the infection and any thoughts we had to using the jacuzzi in the room. The tap water throughout the house had an odd smell, so outside of using the bottled water we bought for drinking, the tub wasn’t going to be used.

It wasn't as bad as drinking water while in Mexico, but we definitely needed the bottled water.

After we returned, I decided to setup my modified Xbox and play a few old school games with my cousin’s boyfriend and my younger cousins. Before I got them going on a history of videogames with Frogger and Super Mario Brothers, my cousin’s boyfriend and I played Tecmo Bowl (Nintendo version of course) and some Super Nintendo NBA Jam. We even played some WWF arcade games too, but the links were calling so we left to play 9 (errr, make that 12) holes of golf at the Goose Creek Golf Course while all of the women left for the outlets. I am thankful my aunt decided to buy me a Polo t-shirt after everyone took notice that my MD t-shirts were not in the best condition. My SO eyed a Coach purse and ended up buying it the next day.

It was my duty to start the next generation of videogame players the same way I did.

Golf went pretty well for me. After we sprinted back to the clubhouse from the first tee (though we started on the 10^th) because of a brief torrential downpour, it was time to really play and look for the ball I had shot before ducking for cover. When I hit my irons well, they were still getting in the air pretty easily and I actually had a drive or two that found its way into the fairway. I had one drive of at least 230 yards thanks to my ball hitting a golf cart path across the fairway. Other than the usual golf events of missed putts, a par and a few bogeys, I was barely successful in jumping the golf cart across a small trench. We also took some pictures of my playing partner’s ball that found itself lodged a few inches deep in mud on a few holes. The course played like a municipal, but that’s fine with me and I welcomed the length after many a 9-hole round at Paint Branch.

While I bumbled my way around the golf course, my mom decided to go for a run with my SO over the same dunes the Wright Brothers flew from. There wouldn't be much to this story except for the fact my mom had my SO run through shards, shards, and more shards of glass in the sand. I'm sure it was my mom's way of testing my SO's worth to see if she was right for me. Even without the glass walking test, I know she is right for me....awwwww.

It wasn't THIS bad, but a few shards got stuck in my SO's foot.

That night my parents, SO, and I ate at Miller’s restaurant. Unfortunately, all of our fish dishes weren’t so good. This was the only night of subpar-tasting food. We finished the night with Scattegories and had some hilarious entires like, Subject: Things that grow….Answer: Men.

However, there was one moment that surpassed all exchanges from now until eternity…

In case you’re playing at home, the letter was L…the list was #10...the item was #3...parts of the human body.

The sand was in the bottom of the timer and answers came spewing out. I waited to hear someone steal mine.

“Lungs!” I’m still safe.

“Legs!” I’m still safe.

“Labia!” I yell.

Half of the players who heard my answer are laughing so hard they’re tearing. My face’s blood vessels fill and turn me into a true red-head. The other half are in the dark so I am asked to repeat my answer, but I can’t bring myself to it. Word spreads around the table and the laughter is uncontrollable. Five minutes pass and the laughter semi-subsides. My aunt waits to share her answer.

“Lips!”

The group acutely realizes that depending on its interpretation, my aunt’s answer is the same as mine. Round two of laughter tears ensue. I did get my well-deserved point. How do I love this game.

Thursday – My Aunt and Uncle Did What in a Pool? And Did They Do That In Ours?

After the prescribed BPHTN, my SO, cousin, and I went to Harris Teeter to prepare for our night of cooking. My cousin made some Cornell marinated chicken and we made two huge bowls of my SO’s colorful pasta salad. Both tasted great. That night we watched the ocean come in 15 feet further than the day before as a windy storm blew through. It was a site to see how powerful even this little storm was. I can’t imagine how any of these homes make it through a nor’easter or hurricane. This was a Taboo night (I realize I have nights and games mixed-up, but just go along and nod your head) and it was lots of fun. Nevermind my father kept cheating by covering the ineligible words from the other team’s observer, but we also learned (as my cousin’s boyfriend arrived that night) something about my aunt and uncle that I could have lived without knowing.

Uncle with clue in-hand: We did this at *undisclosed*’s pool.

Aunt (non-chalantly): Oh, skinny-dipping.

Laughter ensues and we learn WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION!

Wednesday – I Got Crabs From Dirty Dicks

That's from the best sign for a crab restaurant you’ll see in the OBX by the way. Today we enjoyed a great (as if there's any other kind) BPHTN day. I broke open my summer book, “Fantasyland” by Sam Walker. My quick review: As someone who should really be better read and hasn’t opened a “legitimate” (non-sports) book in a few years, this book was an easy read. Like any good sports fan, I was into the first 1/4, skimmed the middle, and got back into the last 1/4. If you like fantasy sports, you’ll appreciate his access and ability to do all of the things that any fantasy player would want to do: contact NASA mathematicians for stats and speak with “your” players about underperformance, etc.

This has nothing to do the book review, but you can never have enough beach pictures.

Competing in an ultra-competitive league, he did quite well for himself. He wrote some nice one-liners, but there wasn’t enough to keep me interested in the minutia of his season’s day-to-day activities and biographical sketches of the league’s participants. Read the book if you like and understand fantasy sports, otherwise you’ll think he’s a nutjob, like all of us fellow fantasy players. That reminds me, I have 3 football drafts next week which will of course lead to 3 last place finishes.

Tonight’s meal was crabs for the second time in less than a week. This batch was sweeter, but a few of them were devoid of any meat. Some corn and fresh vegetables rounded out the meal for the crabeaters.

Tuesday – Lead Foot Meet the Open Road…Open Road Meet the Lead Foot

With hopes of still playing golf on Wednesday, my uncle and I went to the Cape Hatterras lighthouse on another partly cloudy day. It’s the tallest brick lighthouse in the country at some 300 feet, give or take. Before leaving, we said goodbye to my mom’s friends who were most welcome at the house the last two days. After quickly recognizing my uncle’s grand ability to pass cars using a dotted yellow line, I certainly wasn’t going to nap during the hour-long drive. That Lincoln Navigator sure has some acceleration when a tractor-trailer is coming at you in the same lane.

Big pimpin'...P-I-M-P!

After climbing the 278 stairs (who says I don’t splurge?), we enjoyed the average views from the top. There really wasn’t much to see except some beach and the tops of several trees. The wind was very strong up there and I almost lost my DC National’s visor I got for free. I had hooked it around my camera bag, only to unlatch the cover to the camera, thereby freeing the visor. Yes, I’m an idiot. I was lucky because the visor fell to the ground and was wedged between the floor and railing.

The lighthouse before moving 3/4 mile inland.

The walk down wouldn’t have been too bad if not for some slow walkers, like the kind you find at major malls. Akin to letting better/faster golfers play-through on the course, these people should have let my SO and I pass them from the start. They finally obliged with 3 flights to go, but not before hearing us complain under our breath. Afterward, we drove to where the lighthouse used to be and then made our way back home, but not before we picked up some more NYC pizza in NC for the house.

Is it that strange to go to the Outer Banks only to eat NYC style pizza?

We spent the rest of the time doing the BPHTN and ate my cousin’s hearty turkey burgers off the grill. I think this was also our first night of Scattegories. If it wasn’t, don’t feel free to correct me since I combine the funnier moments into one post later this week. I have always loved Scattegories as it speaks to my creative, quick-thinking side of the brain. Sure, I say some ridiculous and usually bogus answers, but they’re all in the name of fun. The first night’s winner was my aunt’s daughter who averaged an impressive 7 answers per round.

Monday – You Can Take the B and T Crowd Out of the City…

The first full day on the Outer Banks was a prelude to the rest of the week (except for Friday). It was partly cloudy all day, with temperatures around 90 and some high dewpoints. During any normal Monday, this would be reason for me to remove my shirt on K Street, but not this time, I was on vacation. It was a clear recipe for a BPHTN day. Before we started our BPHTN day, me and my cousin did some of our own food shopping and wanted some pizza.

I stopped at the New York Pizza Pub in Nags Head and set some low expectations, afterall, it was NYC pizza in NC. Surprise, surprise, but the pizza actually tasted good. Not NYC good, but good enough for a NC version. Of note today was my parents’ dog bodysurfing and swallowing copious amounts of saltwater, mixed with chlorinated water she drank while swimming laps in the pool. She was fine and loved every minute of it. The time passed quickly and for dinner we stuffed ourselves with my aunt’s (#1 reader’s) great lasagna.

Up, up, and away!

Sunday – This Is The True Story of 13 People and 2 Dogs Picked to Live in a House and Have Their Lives Written About

My parents headed off around 8 and I was on the road by 9. Mapquest predicted 6 hours, but we made it to Nags Head in 4.5 hours that included a pit stop for McD’s. (By the way, at least in the South, you can still order the two cheeseburger extra value meal even though it’s no longer on the menu board. It’s just something you have to know, like In and Out Burger’s secret menu.) Traffic was light and the drive was smooth with some help from the Chesapeake Expressway. There are five signs (literally and figuratively) that let you know you’ve made it to the Outer Banks.

#5 Lots of Farmer’s markets approaching the Wright Memorial Bridge. With their combination of homemade pies, jams, and jellies; fresh produce; and fireworks (?) to perhaps place inside the produce, that Deep South feeling starts seeping in.

#4 While the number of pickups in NC is equal to MD, NC is #1 in the number of pickups and Ford Broncos on elevated shocks and wheels. It’s no wonder we passed a building dedicated to the Grave Digger monster truck. Is there any real use to elevating your car? While high rollers in the rest of the country aim for the lowest low-rider and chrome spinning rims, southerners account for a Napoleon complex by raising their cars. I should give them their due, the extra height allows them to humanely drive over their copious amounts of roadkill. That’s more than I could do.

Right out of central casting.

#3 I've been told that you should pronounce Norfolk as "Nah-fok", telling me it’s the right way to pronounce it as the locals do. Lo and behold, I realized I was in the south when weatherman, locals, waiters, and cashiers all pronounced it that way. Akin to Baltimoreans (not Baltimorons) pronouncing the charm city’s name as "Ball-eh-mor", I will recognize the Norfolk folks (haha?) by not pronouncing the "r".

#2 The people of North Carolina are lucky I only act out my violent feelings on my Xbox because there were (not surprisingly) tons of UNC and Duke bumper stickers. There was even a puke merchandise catalogue in the realtor’s office. I did read the comic book and found you could purchase rat food for your dinners with Coach K, backne medicine in case JJ Redick forgot his for your sleepover, and basketball court insulation to protect it from the wear and tear of players and coaches slapping it to pump themselves up. UNC doesn’t bother me as much.

Chortle, chortle, chortle.

- The #1 sign that you’ve made it to the Outer Banks is the appearance of a Wings beach-stuff store and Brew-Thru every 2 miles. Unfortunately, you can’t help, but notice each Wings, but fortunately you do notice every Brew-Thru including the "Jr" locations. The fact that we saw a few Sonics was also welcome.

No OBX vacation is complete without one.

Eventually we got the keys to our crib and were quite satisfied. With 8 bedrooms, 9 baths, 3 Jacuzzis, 1 hot tub, pool table, and a sun deck that provided shade over the pool and hot tub, the place was huge. While it wasn’t white-glove clean, the place was in good condition. My only real gripe is that the pool table was clearly bought after being played in a bar for ten years, being it was an 8-foot table with quarter holders and a felt surface that had clearly seen better days. Over the vacation, I only played about 6 games which is understandable when the beach is right outside your door and the two young’ens were fascinated (and rightly so) with placing the balls in the pockets, finding them at the other end of the table, and making lots of noise in the process.

I think this is where the table was before it was moved to the house.

Eventually the entire crew rolled up to the house and we all ran through the halls and rooms to pick out our sleeping quarters. I felt like a cast member entering a Real World house. Sure you want to meet your roommates, but finding which toilet will suit your needs all week is key. All that was missing was some fancy aquarium and requisite cast members fitting all sorts of stereotypes. Once we got unpacked, we made sure the beach was in fact, 20 feet from the back entrance and let our relaxation begin. With no watch, blackberry, email, Internet, Georgetown University shuttle drivers, dry cleaning (only to have them burn a collar or melt a button), or work concerns, I was a made man. It’s not difficult to relax when each day’s biggest decision is choosing between the beach, pool, hot tub, or a nap (BPHTN).

Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I(t) was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again

Now that we had decided where we’d be sleeping, the only thing left was how we would stuff our faces. Fortunately a Harris Teeter just opened a few days ago so the group walked out of the store with $419 in food. My parents had bought 4 pounds of crabmeat from a farmer’s market on the way in so the first night’s meal was crab cakes, tomatoes, and corn. Mmmm, mmmm, good. I went to sleep knowing I had 6 full days left to soak up the sun.

Saturday – Wow, We’re Spending an Entire Week at the Beach

My parents arrived at my apartment with dog in-hand on Saturday night with two requests, clean bed sheets and crabs. Our living quarters are a nice midway point for them to rest instead of making a straight drive of over 10 hours down the scenic DelMarVa peninsula. The first request was easy enough, but thanks to some ridiculous NJ Turnpike traffic by the Delaware Memorial Bridge, a trip to Jimmy Cantler’s Inn in (haha) Annapolis was not an option. I called the Bethesda Crab House who told me to call back in 45 minutes as they were out of crabs. I’m sorry, but if you’re going to call yourself the Bethesda Crab House, I’d like to think you’ll have plenty of crabs for the people of Bethesda, but it happens.

Just print this picture and color inside the lines.

My only backup was the Dancing Crab situated just beyond the MD/DC border. We wanted carryout, and though I was told the Dancing Crab didn’t offer that on the weekend, I must have talked with the right person (meaning the owner) and got carryout for a dozen crabs, some ears of corn, and crab soup. My parental units and I did the crab eating experience outdoors and had the usual differences of opinion when it comes to eating parts other than crabmeat. The corn was adequate, but I’d skip the crab soup as it really lacked that key ingredient you’d expect in crab soup that the locals call crabmeat. After that, it was time to rest for the drive tomorrow.

OBX Vacation Executive Summary

It was a great vacation. The weather was great.The people (and pets) were great. The food (outside of one meal) was great. The house was great. The only thing I could ask for is more time there with my fellow housemates and housepets. Awwwww.

My body's in Maryland, but my mind is still at the beach.

The only planning for this trip involved where we’d stay and how we’d get there. We talked about a round of golf, parasailing, hang-gliding, visiting the Wright Brothers museum, or taking a boat ride with some dolphins. Of those, I only played 9 holes of golf. This is what happens when the weather is too nice to leave the house and the fact that the beach is at your doorstep.

Boardwalk cheesiness is not found at OBX.

With the beach there’s zero desire to get back in a car and drive to do something when you already have everything you need to relax. The beach was right there for our taking everyday and everynight. It beckoned, summoned, and bullied us to it with its clean beaches, warm water, and ample space for umbrellas and chairs. Unlike the Jersey shore and its cheesiness (outside of Avalon/Stone Harbor), Ocean City and its ridiculous Velveetaness, and Rehobeth/Dewey Beach’s niceness, we were always at least 50 feet from our nearest fellow beachcomber. Not really to my dad’s chagrin, we no longer had to follow him as he trekked a ½ mile from our (gasp!) public entry point to find an open plot of sand. Nope. We just walked 20 feet from our pool to our beach. I could get used to this lifestyle, especially when I can go the entire week and only get sunburned on my feet.

3,547 Words on the Outer Banks Over Nine Parts

In lieu of tired typing fingers, I will divide my Outer Banks (OBX) entries by day and publish them two weeks from when they occurred. I will start with the Saturday (8/5) pre-trip festivities and finish with Sunday’s return trip (8/13) entry. A genius plan, I know. Beware that the amount of letters, spaces, and punctuations herein surpass my quadruple Disneyworld posts. You might want to print these entries out for bathroom reading. I’m not implying that these entries are a bunch of crap, but you’re welcome to think of them that way – everyone’s a critic afterall. I considered calling these entries special reports, but that wouldn’t do enough to separate them from the junk Geraldo Rivera and John Stossel (who were both popular examples in J-school of people (since they’re not reporters), with zero journalism ethics), put out there just to scare the public into higher ratings. I digress.

DISCLAIMER: As always, family relations are used to protect the innocent and the order of our gamenights may have been changed simply because I couldn’t keep track of them. Please contact the Omnipotent Blog That’s Not Interesting’s ombudsman at: IT-IS-CALLED-POETIC-LICENSE@SO-DEAL-WITH-IT.COM.

Great Craig's List Roommate Request

To buy some time before my OBX recap, enjoy this Craig's List roommate request in Silver Spring. Thanks Eric.

Time to Get Jealous

I recognize I'm being quite presumptuous, but for the next week I'll be hanging out in Nags Head on that strip of sand in the Atlantic Ocean known as the Outer Banks (OBX for those bumper sticker lovers). It's an extended family type of vacation and we've got a nice place on the beach. It's one of those huge homes that I used to wonder, "who would ever rent a house that large?". Well, as I've found out, when you have 15 people staying together, you need as much space as possible. Even so, I'll be sure to take a few walks away from the gang to get some fresh air and avoid family claustrophobia.

I'm excited to renew the family tradition of "becoming one with the ocean", following my dad as he walks a mile from the house to find the perfect spot on the beach (though our point of entry would suffice), and watching my mom reveal her inner-dolphin as she swims to England with incredible ease. I've got my sunblock ready (fair-skinned people like myself don't do well with the sun), frisbee, football, wiffle ball set, umbrellas, chairs, boardgames, and of course golf clubs. My mom wants to play a real course for the first time so we'll play 9 holes at Goose Creek. It bills itself as a family-friendly course, though wide fairways still don't guarantee it'll be an easier for me. She's aware of golf etiquette like the pace of play and ready golf so here's hoping it's a good walk that's not spoiled.

So if you need to get your blog-fix, checkout the archives or some of my links. Of course, you could always turn off the computer and do something outside, but where's the fun in doing anything without air conditioning? The harsh reality is five of my blog's eight regular readers will join me so not only will I not get their website visits this week, but when I recap the trip, they have no reason to read it. As I try to end this stream-of-conscious-post, remember to stay cool this week, watchout for jellyfish, wear sunscreen, don't stay in one of the hot tubs too long (as if that's possible), build a sand castle, and ride some waves.

Who's Who During a Metro Kickback

I haven't read (nor looked) for anything describing the fun kickback experienced when a Metro car comes to a stop. It's never a smooth experience and provides for some near-falls if you don't know what you're doing. In yet another reason why a pamphlet is needed for Metro virgins, the kickback is quite jolting when you don't know it's coming.

A ride starts innocently enough with that now annoying "doors closing" spastic xylophone background. Whether you're sitting or standing, the smooth acceleration is no cause for alarm because it doesn't require any need to brace yourself. As tunnel lights fly by the window, life seems good. A minute later, the lights don't pass as quickly and the next station is approaching. Those in the know naturally lean toward the front, but when the train finally stops, the jolt forces even the most experienced riders to take a studder step to regain their balance.

Today I noticed a few types of Metro riders before, during, and after the kickback. I'm sure I'm missing a few others, but today there was the:

- Nervous and overly cautions rider: Clutching onto one pole, not only with both hands, but both arms as well to hug it.

- Touristy (kid): Never holds onto any rail because either they don't think they need one or the parents don't know the danger. Yet when the train stops, they provide great fodder for everyone else because they just took a faceplant into the emergency procedures sign. It should be noted that a touristy teen also won't hold onto a rail, but they usually catch themselves before kissing the plastic.

- Experienced rider: Loosely grabs the rail with one hand because he/she knows how severely you must lean before the car stops.

Which ones have you seen? And no, you can't list the guy who wears his undershirt on the train while using the handrail as a clothing rack (to help carry clothes to change into at work later that week because it's so hot outside)...that would be me.

How Do Farragut West Riders Get Home?

Every morning rush hour that I ride Metro's Orange and Blue lines toward Metro Center, 70% of the riders exit at Farragut West (FW). I never thought anything of this until I realized on my return afternoon rush hour ride that less than 30% of morning FW riders board for the ride home. I assumed FW riders would return home by boarding at the same station they arrived, but they must be a different breed. How is it possible that for every 10 people exiting at FW in the morning, only 2 or 3 will board during rush hour later that day? Like that smell in the Rosslyn station, it's just another unsolved metro mystery.