Headed East ('cuz I'm Not a Young Man Anymore)

[Elspode]

Washington, Day Two

Today, in order to allow our psyches to recover from the stimulating, yet unnerving, driving experience of yesterday, we rode public transit into DC. It was a good decision. After I ramble on about where we are staying, I'll tell you why.

Our lodgings are on the South side of the District of Columbia, on the Maryland side of the Potomac, in a new megabucks area known as National Harbor. It is an utterly "created" locale, with nothing here being over four years old, according to what I've read. It reminds me very much of two similar developments back in KC - a shopping district called Zona Rosa, and our major downtown refurb known as The Power and Light District. There are a couple of hotels here, a convention center, and a bunch of trendy shops and restaurants, all seemingly brought forth with a scoop of the backhoe and a wave of a wand. We haven't taken a meal here, but I'd be willing to bet my ass that you can't get a bowl of soup anywhere in this district for less than $15.

There is no context for what now stands at this location...whatever was here before on the West bank of the Potomac as it begins to stretch wide into it's estuarine guise was long ago scraped away and buried, leaving several still-empty, perfectly laid out flat lots awaiting a gallery or a chain restaurant, and any number of upscale money pits newly grown and awaiting fresh money. Cirque du Soleil has a sprawling installation of modern tents just up the hill from where we are, having arrived some months ago to enthrall the masses with their neuvo aerial and dance performances, and to draw people from the urban core out to this area that is just now inventing itself. At some point in the not too distant future, the Cirque folk will literally fold their tents, and move on, leaving the developers of this area and those who produce attractions out of nothing to continue their labors, hoping against hope to make National Harbor a destination worthy of the historic town upon whose back it rides.

It was from this beautifully sited but artificial locale that we departed this morning on a bus, bound for the Green Line train, headed to the National Archives. Fittingly, our stop was called "Archive", as you emerge from beneath the city directly opposite the imposing structure that houses our founding documents.

DC has a unified payment solution they call a "Smart Card", and it is a damn fine thing. You order your own card online, paying a flat fee to institute the service, and you soon receive in the mail a physical card that is RFID enabled, with your initial fee minus a setup charge encoded on it. Wave this card over the device on the bus or the train, and you log into the transit system. If a bus, it subtracts a flat fee. If a train, you wave it again as you leave the station of your disembarkation, and you are charged the appropriate fee relative to your departure point. Devices much like ATMs are everywhere so that you can add value to your card as needed. Technologically very impressive, and convenient beyond belief.

The buses we rode were clean and modern, as were the trains. The trains and the system of subway tunnels and stations which they traverse are remarkable, shining examples of both efficient modern electrical and computer technology, as well as icons of tunnel boring systems and uniformity. However, transit is transit. What struck me most was a physical phenomenon that I could have only experienced here in DC.

When we arrived at the Archive Station, our small band assembled at the fare machines near the escalators that led up to the level of the streets from the station. It was a large oval opening with three escalators rising/descending from it, probably some 80' across and twenty feet high. It was raining in the above ground realm, but, as I stood at the base of the escalators, waiting for my companions to sort out their card situations, I felt an airflow steadily rising from above, seeming to blow downward into the subway. I thought at first that it must be windy above, but looking upward, I could see the flags of the Navy Memorial fountain, and saw that they did not move in concert with the airflow I was feeling.

I thought nothing of it...for a couple more minutes. Then, I heard a train screaming into the station from a distance away. The louder and closer it got, the more the airflow from inside the station began to push outward, increasingly flowing around me as I stood still and aware. When the train departed the station a minute later, the opposite was felt...the airflow gushed in from above/outside, and into the station.

As we rode the train into DC earlier, we could feel the pressure on our eardrums increase as we went through tunnels. It was clear that the trains acted as a piston in these confined spaces, increasing the ambient pressure. So, as I stood at the exit to Archive Station, I was finally experiencing the whole of the physical phenomenon...arriving trains pushed the pressurized air ahead of them, and out of the station through the biggest opening available...the main entrance/exit. When the trains left, their speed and girth plowing through the tunnel ahead did the opposite job, creating an area of negative pressure behind them, and drawing a gale inward.

As my companions finished their labors at the fare machines and walked over, ready to ascend the escalators, I felt compelled to make them stop and wait, without explanation, so that they could have the same experience I was having.

They enjoyed the miniature lesson in aerodynamics as much as I had upon learning it was there for the taking.

[Elspode]

I promised nerdgasm pics, so here's one, then I gotta go to bed. I know there are Discovery Channel nerds here, and for those who enjoyed "Meteorite Men" as much as I did, the top pic is the oft-referenced "Tucson Ring" meteorite.

For the aircraft nerds amongst us, the bottom pic is from the Air Force Museum at Wright Patterson in Dayton..."Bock's Car", the B-29 that delivered the second atomic bomb over Nagasaki.

[glatt]

Originally Posted by Elspode

As we rode the train into DC earlier, we could feel the pressure on our eardrums increase as we went through tunnels. It was clear that the trains acted as a piston in these confined spaces, increasing the ambient pressure.

This is awesome. Most people are totally oblivious to the wind caused by the trains. You're here one day and notice it and describe it perfectly.

It's most pronounced under and near the rivers, because in other locations, they put in vertical shafts to relieve the pressure. It's more efficient when the trains don't have to push a mile of air in front of them to get where they are going.