This morning the metro stopped completely and turned off. No air conditioning. No rumble of the tracks. Nothing.
A couple minutes later the conductor got on to explain that someone had tried to commit suicide by jumping in front of the train as we pulled up to Rhode Island Avenue. Yikes. I looked over at the four-year-old sitting across from us and thought about how sad it was that he'd have to hear something like that so young. Then I looked at his mother and thought about how sad it is that she now has to explain something like that so young. And I thought about how selfish it is to involve innocents in a suicide. That's not fair.
And I heard numerous cell phone calls being made to various bosses and secretaries: we're going to be a bit late today.
All of this brings me back to my nagging question from March of '08.
Also, it makes me wonder how bad this person's friends and family are. What is so bad about them that he can't stand the thought of spending the weekend with them?
Suicide on a Monday: Understandable. No less terrible. But more understandable.
Suicide on a Friday: Wait. I'm confused?