“I rode every form of transit in D.C. for two weeks and this is what I learned” by Kathryn Duval

Kathryn Duval is a D.C. transplant by way of Chicago, Boston, and Buffalo, NY. She has lived happily in Eastern Market for the past two years, and can most frequently be found at Bullfrog Bagels, Beuchert’s Saloon or pushing the limits of hashtag allowances on Instagram @kate_duval.

I rode every form of transit in D.C. for two weeks and this is what I learned
Kathryn Duval

A rite of passage for any D.C. dweller is to complain about Metro, the city’s public transit system that links the city with parts of Virginia, Maryland, and maybe, one day, a long, long time from now, Dulles Airport. Metro’s long, well-documented history of everything from crippling negligence to death on “America’s subway,” has caused the transit service to begin overhauling its system, working to improve the third-busiest subway in the country, using an ironically lackluster marketing campaign to let the public know they’re working on getting the system “Back 2 Good.”

In August, Metro announced a two-week service impact on the Blue, Orange, and Silver lines, three lines that run all the way from my little pocket of home in Eastern Market, through downtown D.C. and out into suburbs like Vienna, Falls Church, and Alexandria (and again, if we’re lucky, one day, maybe Dulles). The announcement came with near-apocalyptic messaging, that Metro should be used “only if no other alternatives are available.” Given that I’m a rule-follower and slightly phobic of large crowds in confined spaces, I decide to seek out as many alternatives as possible.

What follows is an account of two weeks commuting in D.C. on everything from the bus to a scooter, a rideshare to a bikeshare, an electric bicycle to a broken electric bicycle, and an untold amount of sweat and profanity.

Monday, August 13
• Metro alternative: Bus

I wake up excited about the little challenge I’ve given myself. Today is a double dose of the Metro Rail’s prettier, more modern sister: Metro Bus. The bus stop is across the street from the Metro Rail entrance at Eastern Market, so I don’t even have to change the walking part of my commute. I get on the #32 bus at exactly 8:00am, headed for Foggy Bottom.

This bus is amazing. The A/C is blasting, the people are silent, and there are seats aplenty. Better yet, I can look out the window as we glide down Pennsylvania Ave, passing the Library of Congress, the Capitol, the Smithsonian. I am deposited directly across the street from my office in 32 minutes, a symmetry with the bus number that my inner OCD is thrilled by. Metro Bus is bae.

The day speeds by, and suddenly it’s time to go home. At 5:30pm, I make my way a block down to the bus stop at Murrow Park, waiting for good ol’ #32.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiiiiiiiiting.

Here’s the thing: you think you have an understanding of D.C. traffic, but you don’t. And you won’t until you ride the #32 bus in rush hour on a weekday from Murrow Park to Eastern Market. It’s 3.3 miles from Murrow to Market. It took SEVENTY-ONE MINUTES. 71! One hour and 11 minutes doesn’t have ANY kind of symmetry with the #32 and I am forever done with utilizing Metro Bus for evening commutes.

Tuesday, August 14
• Metro alternative: Scooter

I’ll preface this day by admitting that I am a judgmental person. Show me a hearty-sized group of tourists on Segways barreling around the Tidal Basin and I actively have to restrain myself from shoving the healthy-looking ones right into the water. We’ve been given legs and feet and the ability to walk! Scooters, electric or not, are unnecessary. “Scoot with your feet,” I imagine hissing at this fictional family of Segway riders as their dad splashes helplessly alongside a cluster of ducks in the dank water.

Thus, I had a lot of crow to eat on Tuesday morning when a Lime scooter was parked directly outside my door, making my decision for transit pretty straightforward. A few simple clicks and I was registered and able to “unlock” this dockless scooter, buzzing down Penn like a queen. It took about 20 minutes to get to work via scooter, my route quickened by the ability to dart from road to sidewalk, National Mall to bike lane, whenever I saw an opening. It’s a little unnerving to be on a dinky piece of metal next to a massive rush of cars, but I make it to the office relatively unscathed.

My commute home is similar in time, with an added adrenaline bonus of having to dash around the 3 blocks surrounding my office like a madwoman in an attempt to locate and unlock a scooter before someone else did. I have officially become that person who refuses to use her legs and feet when a motorized option is available. I die a little at this realization, and make it home in 22 minutes.

Wednesday, August 15
• Metro alternative: Via rideshare

Day three presents a challenge as I have to wear a suit to work, I am carrying an additional bag of materials, and it’s threatening to rain. It seems like the right day to commute by Via, the cheap version of a Lyft Line. I sign up for the service, get a coupon (thanks, Via!) and am told to walk to the corner where the Metro station to wait for my ride. I locate my driver and get into a car with two other people, and we drive down Penn, making stops every 5-10 minutes to either let someone out or put someone else in the car. There’s nothing wrong with this method of transit, but I just want to be super clear about something: THAT IS WHAT THE BUS DOES. Via drops me off at the same location as my old gal the #32 bus in 38 minutes, and I laugh to myself at the fact that I paid an additional $2 for the exact same service as the bus. Millennials are idiots.

My Via home is pretty similar in experience, but with the addition of the traffic I saw on the bus. We crawl down Penn, letting 2 people out and one person in before I jump out at Eastern Market, reminded of how I should never bother to be in a moving vehicle of any kind on the streets of D.C. between 4-7pm.

Thursday, August 16
• Metro alternative: JUMP Bike

I’ve seen the bright red JUMP Bikes around my neighborhood with increasing frequency, and have been trying to build up my confidence enough to join the cycling community in D.C. JUMP Bikes try to mitigate your inherent laziness and aversion to showing up at work looking like a sweaty mess by putting a little “motor” inside the bike. It’s not a scooter, but it gives you just a little zap to get up a hill without breaking a sweat. It seems like a great option for a sticky hot day of commuting.

I take out the JUMP Bike next to the Metro entrance and begin the journey to my office. I fly down Capitol Hill and make it into those clutch little protected bike lanes on Penn that have designated signals and great barriers. My ride is enjoyable until I start to feel monstrously out of shape. Like, can’t-pedal-without-serious-grit out of shape. Turns out, my JUMP ran out of JUMPS and died while I was riding it. And you know what happens when a bike with a lil’ motor runs out of power? It doubles in weight. But my spin class instructor has prepared me for moments like this. I bear down, stand up on the pedals and chug my way forward, lurching to my place of employ fully drenched in sweat. Since it’s a dockless program, I lock it up right in front of my office and log the whole trip as about 38 minutes and 7,926 calories burned.

My JUMP home is another story. JUMP has the ability to reserve a bike for 30 minutes, something the scooter options don’t have. Instead of trying to fight to the death with the bros of K Street for a freestanding scooter, I breeze past the potential bloodbath, enter in a pin code on my reserved JUMP, and I’m off. I double check to make sure this JUMP is actually charged, and am pleased to see it’s at 94% battery life. My JUMP home is the best evening commute of the whole experiment. I get the benefit of the protected bike lanes, I only have to pedal a medium amount before the zap of the motor kicks in, and I trick my brain into thinking this counts as a workout. I’m home after a perfectly pleasant 25 minute ride, and I am newly in love with this option.

Friday, August 17
• Metro alternative: Capital Bikeshare

Now that I’m the Lance Armstrong of JUMP Bikes (minus all physical fitness and drug use), I decide to close out the week with Capital Bikeshare. D.C.’s longest-running bike program is the sister of New York’s Citibike, Chicago’s Divvy, and Montreal’s Bixi. The bikes have to be docked at a station within 30 minutes of being taken out, or the flat rental rate increases. Fortunately for me, I have been timing myself all week, and I make it to work on those same gorgeous protected bike lanes in 24 minutes, docking the bike across the street from my office. I congratulate myself on using a real bike, count the commute as a workout, and go about my day.

The commute home is what one might call a humbling experience. While I understand that I live at the “top” of Capitol Hill, I forget that hills, on bikes, in dress clothes, are difficult things to climb. Missing the motor of the previous day’s JUMP, I huff and puff my way up the hill, barely conscious and slick with a combination of sweat and tears, realizing I am no better than the fictional Segwaying family I mocked in my daydream for their lack of ability. I arrive at the dock after 29 minutes (less than one minute to spare before the late charges begin!), and throw the front wheel into the lock, refusing to let this bicycle best me again.

The following week is daunting with different combinations of each travel method spinning off from one another like a public transit Fibonacci sequence, so I simplify the process and choose the methods that I enjoyed the most: the #32 bus for the commute to work, and the JUMP bike for the commute home. I spend $4 on transportation each day, leave a minimal carbon footprint, get to relax when only half awake in the morning, and get to pretend I’m working out on my way home.

After two weeks of braving the streets of D.C. in everything shy of a hansom cob, I’m ready to get Back 2 Good on the rusted out rails of the Metro. But I’m a little more patient with the scooter riding population for falling victim to the vehicle’s siren song, a little more wary of a bike that promises to do the work for you, and a lot more appreciative of the sights around D.C.

That is, until the next Segway tour crosses my path.