The mistakes I will not repeat in the 2020 election

There are many mistakes journalists made in the 2016 election. I will never forget the feeling of laying half asleep in a hotel that night in a coverage region where all counties went to Donald Trump. I had the election results on TV as I was trying to get a few hours of sleep before having to produce the flagship 5:30 p.m. newscast the next day. There was no sleeping at some point after midnight.

The polls were wrong. And journalists have done a lot of work to try to assess these 2020 polls more accurately. I keep reading so much polling analysis and I attended the Poytner seminar about how journalists can better interpret polling. But, we're still getting it wrong. Even if the polls today have Joe Biden up by 15 percent, I still suspect there is a lot going on in the non-traditional background that make those polls misleading. Trump supporters believe him on so many lies, his touting of his "real" poll numbers are likely going a long way. Additionally, we also will not know a lot of major, dirty tactics being used by not just Trump's campaign, but other disruptive forces around the world, until after the election.

One of my biggest regrets going into the 2016 election was that I was focused on hyper-local journalism in my municipality until 2 weeks before the election. I took that as a license to not follow every person in 2016. I ignored Donald Trump as a true contender until I found myself having to report on him as president-elect. I could tell you every senator and governor up and down the east coast in that year. But I hate two to four-year-long presidential election campaigns. As a result, I didn't know the difference between Ivanka Trump and Melania Trump in 2016 and I keyed one of them wrong the day he was elected. Whoops.

I won't repeat that mistake, having learned the faces of most of his publicly prominent administration officials in the last 3.5 years.

I tried to get out of news, but every job I take, I know I will be called back to handle some of this mess. Even though I took a job in IT and I consulted for awhile, I have stayed up to date on so many initiatives, laws, news stories, candidates, tweets, and other information I really wish I could ignore.

At any moment, I could end up in a newsroom and have to know the major news stories of the last decade. The days of easy jobs have been over for me for a long time.

I do love all my work. But, there are some days I just want to do something more simple with stakes that aren't this high.

The day my toilet exploded; another bad example of police response

It was summer 2018 and my feet were up on my balcony table at 1 a.m. I was living in an expensive one bedroom apartment in an up-and-coming neighborhood in Prince George's County. I was on the phone for two hours with a coworker while sipping a now cold Starbucks coffee. And then I had to pee. Yes, we've been friends for more than a decade, we can pee while still on the phone. It's like that.

When I flushed the toilet, the tank exploded behind me. The bulb was on the ground and water was gushing everywhere. That moment I will never forget, because it is a mix of confusion, annoyance and the realization that there were only moments to react. I told my coworker I had to let her go. Emergency maintenance was the next number I dialed.

No, it's not normal for toilets to explode. After further research by several television engineers, we came to three conclusions. A toilet will explode if it has a faulty Flushmate apparatus in the tank, if the pressure of the tank was compromised or if an explosive had been placed in the tank. I did not have a Flushmate. I did not place explosives in my tank. So, it was a pressure issue.

I did make a call to two local plumbers who install Flushmates, and they did not want to be identified or comment on the Flushmate explosions.

When I moved in a year and half earlier, I left an abusive situation, had massive PTSD and ended up in a very contentious divorce. I saw the signs everywhere, but did not put them together — the water lines were full of mold. The mold compromised everything. It compromised both of my faucets, my Brita filter, my tub, my washer, and my toilet bowl. I had no idea it was building in the toilet tank, too. I tried everything to clean it all, but I just couldn't fix it. At that point, I was too bogged down to figure out the problem was likely systemic. I had never seen anything like it.

The neighbor from downstairs knocked on my door. I answered and she told me the water was cascading into her whole apartment. I went down to look, and it was just coming straight through any place it could come in the ceiling. It was coming through the smoke alarm, so I tried to stand on one of her leather chairs to take out the battery, but I was not tall enough.

I went back upstairs and waited for maintenance, holding up the bulb to stop the water. Maintenance arrived, assessed and left to shut the water off.

Then there was another knock on the door. I yelled for the maintenance guy to come back in. But he did not. I let the bulb fall and the water flow, so I could let him in. But what I found were several police officers. This situation did not require police officers. They wanted to come into the apartment. I refused, because they did not have a warrant. I asked them why there were there and who called them. They could not tell me. They had to call dispatch to get some details about the nature of the call.

They pointed out a large gash on my arm, and they asked to come in to check it out. I told them that we could step out into the hall, so that they could inspect it. I had not realized I was hit by the explosion. There was very little blood anywhere. Later, I would see a little on the door as I answered it.  It would take months for the ceramic shrapnel to vacate my body.

I told officers I would wait for EMT to arrive. They were not okay with that. They demanded entry into my apartment. I refused again. I tried to shut the door and one of the officers used his boot to block it. They rushed my apartment while I explicitly several times told them to "Get the f*** out." Then the EMT's showed up. Police had already decided to put me under arrest with no cause. I was dragged out of my apartment without examining my wound, took me to a hospital for evaluation, and then searched my home without a warrant. I was released a short time later after 12 stitches in my right arm.

Apparently, noticing my gash, the maintenance manager called 911 to request assistance. What police told me is that he had the right to let them have access to the apartment and I could not stop them. He was not there at the time they asked for access and they could not tell me why they were there. I don't believe it to be true he could grant them access, but I have not followed up on it yet. I had too much going on and had to let this go.

This police department was highlighted by President Barack Obama as one of the model community police departments in the country. I do not agree anymore. I have watched them slam Black teens to the ground for what they assessed as disobedience. I have watched them lie again and again. File false charges. I myself have filed excessive force complaints against them. I have watched them harass people, myself included. And I have watched them horse around when they should be solemn in court or protecting our citizens.

I have no disrespect for the police. I spent many years writing stories about the amazing work they do in the community. However, there are aspects of the culture that does need to change.

I gave birth to a 7-year-old pirate

My mouth has gotten me into so much trouble over the last few years. And I do not care. This is an old story from a few years ago, but it has come up out of my PTSD brain recently.

My daughter is brilliant, amazing, stressed and handling it better than I can some days. It is a horrible position for multiple adults, myself included, to put a child in. She is seven and a half as I am writing this.

I worked in live TV news for way too long. Most of us try to not have kids, because of the demands that puts on us, our kids and the companies we work for. I was pregnant managing too many TV news things. Some middle managers at my company used to joke about when my unborn child would come of an age where they could hire her. I miss the fact that those used to be jokes.

At four years old, she ran solo robotic camera in multiple studios. She also switched a show or two in my lap. I trained her to also be an audio engineer, but I can’t remember if she did any audio by herself before I stopped.

I got into trouble this week, which I owned and own, for saying some things disrespectful. Welcome to "TV news Rebecca."

One of the most disrespectful things I have ever said to someone — who was screwing around and failing us over multiple hours and shows — was this:

1. I am already doing 3 jobs.
2. We are crashing. I need you to focus. I’ve already asked several times.
3. I will just do your job, too, because at this point what I want to happen is for you to leave, go pick up my 4-year-old daughter and bring her back, because she already can do your job better than you can. 
4. I am over this.

This is a memory I am sharing, because I am so proud and thankful of my daughter. She should have never been required to navigate this. She is doing so well with what is left of her childhood.

90 seconds of door banging by a stranger brought back all of the horrible things that happened to me

This feeling is something that has been written into my bones. I don’t want it. I want to give this away, but I am stuck with it. It was the way the floor vibrated in my living room when a stranger decided to bang on the front door to our apartment building.

What that person didn’t know is that I was the only one at this end of the building. I wasn’t expecting anyone. What this person also didn’t know was that I have complex post traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD). I let the person bang for awhile.  It was not my problem.

I don’t open doors for strangers. I’m an abuse survivor who was also raped earlier this year by my roommate — and I’m journalist — so I know too many stories about how opening the door ends badly for someone. I can write this headline before it happens. I do it all the time.

The trauma started to seep up from the places in my body I thought I hid it. Apparently, I didn’t pour enough concrete in the buckets where the pain was buried. I thought I replaced my blood with concrete. It’s horrible sometimes to figure out there’s still blood in your veins.

In “The Gift of Fear,” Gavin DeBecker told a story about a woman who let a man into the door of her apartment building and that man ended up raping her and almost leaving her for dead. I read that right after I left my abusive husband for the first time in 2012. It’s now 7 years later. Yes, I had to leave him several times before I got away.

I left my ex-husband for the last time just days after Airealle Sells was attacked by the father of one of her two children. I filed for a protective order against my abuser 24 hours before she did.  She’s dead. I’m not. She opened the door. She was not naive, and she fought for her life. I don’t think I had it in me in 2016 to fight like she did. She knew what was on the other side of that door and he said something to get her to let her guard down for a moment. I’ve read all the court paperwork on her case, because that is what I got paid to do at the time.

There are so many ways this could end badly. I did not want to open the door for this moron who kept banging.  I was looking at my feet, thinking, there is no reason you have to hit the door so hard that it makes the concrete under my socks vibrate.

What C-PTSD does in situations like this is trigger a “flashback” of all the trauma. All of it comes back as if it’s happening to me in this moment. Oh, no. It’s all going to come back. I can’t deal with it all. No one can deal with all of this if it comes out. I waited longer. Rebecca, just let this person bang. This is not your problem. I understand your floor is vibrating, but you can’t get involved in whatever is outside your front door.

Here we go, let’s flashback to more crap. It was 2018 — the doors slamming between 2:00 A.M. to 4:00 A.M. on a day when I had to be at work at 6:00 A.M. with my six-year-old daughter in tow. I tried to keep us asleep on a Saturday morning, knowing I had to work eight hours.

I was terrified to intervene. I had just spent a lot of time reporting on a story in which an off-duty police officer was killed, because he helped a neighbor in a domestic dispute. I’ve reported on so many stories where people end up dead because they got in the middle of someone else’s problem.

I called police on the day of the “slamming of the doors” — which I do not do on default, because of all the negative interactions I’ve had with them. The decision to ask police to help me was a hard and deep one. They came. They were useless, because no one answered the door in the unit where they were slamming doors.

The banging on this door in front of my apartment had now gone on so long, it became the “slamming of those doors” all over again. That trauma came back. My need for sleep. My fear for the safety of my daughter and myself. The uselessness of calling police.

The trauma was right there with me again. In the present, flooding my chest. That put me into fight-or-flight mode. It’s a place I live easily. Fight-or-flight is becoming a death sentence for me.  Someone change the fucking channel.

And now we flashback again. “Flower Guy” is what an AirBnB roommate and I called this guy. He screamed at us to let us into a building, because he wanted to make up with his girlfriend. My roommate decided to let him in.  We should have called the cops instead. That girl re-broke up with him the next day. He killed himself 30 days later.

More banging in the present. More vibrating under my feet.

Then there is the memory of the roommate who raped me earlier this year. I forgot. I was so thankful there were moments I could forget this. I was thankful for being sometimes allowed to forget. The continued pounding on the door after more than 60 seconds brought the rape back to the surface. I didn’t get to tell my story in court, so it was now sitting on my chest as someone banged on the front door of a 40-unit apartment complex.

The roommate who raped me knocked on my door. “I’m busy, what do you need?”  I said the night he attacked me. I was unpacking and putting my clothes away. I just moved in 2 days beforehand.

“Just open the door.”

“I’m busy,” I said again.  “What do you need?”

He repeated, “Just open the door.”  What happened after that led to me filing for a protective order, a 2nd degree assault charge and federal rape charges.

I don’t open the fucking door anymore.

I gave someone 90 seconds to bang on the door and my floor was still vibrating. Whoever that person was looking for was apparently not coming.

Crap, now came the memory of my friend’s short-lived boyfriend’s dog and the bruise she left on my face two months ago.  That friendly dog was just being a dog and had no idea how powerful she was.  I wasn’t strong enough to help her not hurt me, and I’m pretty strong. I don’t know what the dog fractured or pinched, but my right cheekbone still tingles two months later.

I break things and I bruise things.  I’ve been broken and bruised.  I’ve been assaulted, raped, had explosions in my apartment, reported on murders, fires and inaugurations of too many presidents. The person pounding on that front door had no idea that the person right inside the door was this damaged.

So, I did what I do — and I investigated.  Why do I fucking keep opening doors I shouldn’t?  Maybe it was my dad and he forgot his key.  Maybe it was my uncle, his girlfriend, the building owner or one of the property assistants and they just stepped outside for a second.  Maybe I should open the door?  Am I being safe or rude?

I opened the apartment door to peak and two people were standing outside.  I didn’t know who those people were. I closed my door, not wanting to get involved, but realized they saw me and weren’t going to stop banging.

I walked out of my unit.  There’s a bit of social responsibility in there — to make sure no one else lets them in. But there’s a lot of “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I need you to stop.”

A small child came charging down the indoor boulevard as I was looking to investigate.  “Do you know these people?” I asked her.

“Yeah!” She said.

It turns out a caregiver sent her to grab a food delivery.  I don’t have any patience for a food delivery driver who wants to make her problem 80 other people’s problem.  TShe was banging so hard on the front door, I know a good part of this building was shaking.

The little girl got McDonald’s for dinner.  I hope it was good, because she was confident and gorgeous.  She deserved a nice dinner.

The food delivery driver didn’t stop there.  She decided to lay into this small child. “I’ve been out here for FIVE minutes,” the woman said.

And now I’ve gotten involved.  “No, you have not,” I said.  With a look of anger, I pointed at my door. “This is my front porch.  I heard you pounding on our front door for just over 90 seconds.”

“Well, we were outside in the car across the street — calling,” she said.  I do understand that this food delivery driver is stressed, because if that family made a complaint about the food not being hot, they could easily revoke her access to the app.

Let’s call her six years old.  That little girl was not old enough to place a food delivery order, nor was she the one responsible for answering the cell phone.  That woman’s lecture — after pounding so loud she drew out strangers — was ill-placed.

I hope the driver at least made sure that little girl got a toy.

It is three days later and I’m still not over the trauma sitting on my chest.  Once a flashback starts — which that lady did not know she triggered in a stranger — it may take me two days more days or weeks to come back to normal.

I think it’s important for us all to remember that we don’t know what the people around us are going through so that we act and react in a way that creates a safe, happy environment for everyone.

You bet I got here on a winning streak

"No one gets here on a winning streak."  That's what one of my support group friends has said to me two weeks in a row.  No one gets to where you're at right now on a winning streak.  Her words seem to have more weight because of how long ago she changed her circumstances.  And I'll tell you, for the last week, they've been bothering me.

The message being that everyone has gone through some things and had to rebuild.  That I'm not alone in that.  But having gone through what I've gone through, I don't let other people tell me about myself.  It was a mistake that cost me dearly, because not everything you are told about yourself by other people is true.  It is dangerous when someone purposefully lies to you about yourself to serve their own needs.

So, dear friend, it is not up to you to determine whether or not I am on a winning streak.  And you bet your ass I am on one.  You have no idea what this moment represents.  

I am alive, which is something I wasn't sure I was going to be allowed to be for several years.  I have the freedom to breathe and relax now that my divorce is final.  I am now free to take care of myself and I am healthier and more peaceful.  I managed to secure a job with 75% less stress making almost the same amount of money.  I have the freedom, time and energy to decide what the next chapter of my life is going to look like.  I have the freedom to make decisions about my life I wasn't free to do 6 months ago, let alone 2-3 years ago.  I have the knowledge and the strength to say no to people and situations that are taking advantage of me.  I can stand up for myself now.  I regained my confidence and my self-worth.  I got my voice back.  I am happier than I have been in a very long time.

We're both looking at the same moment and seeing two very different things.  And that's okay.  But don't tell me I'm not winning.  Because I am.  Alive, free and happy -- those are things I never thought I'd see again.

Hyattsville's unofficial guide to taking the bus

When I had a car, I had no desire to take a bus or the metro.  But now, I have (almost) no desire to own a car.  Driving and parking was very stressful for me.  Having a car was also extremely expensive.  Between parking everywhere (work, home, public), car payment, insurance, gas and maintenance -- I was spending nearly $1,000 per month.  Using Uber Pool, I reduced it to $500 per month.  Using local buses and Metrorail, it's down to less than $100 per month.  And I don't want to go back.

It just takes a little planning

Revolving your life around public transportation takes planning and patience.  It's been helpful for me to realize what's around where I have to go, such as if going home can easily involve the grocery store or library.  I plan out my routes to places I haven't been to yet.  That's how it started out -- taking the bus from my apartment just up Route 1 to Whole Foods.  Now there are so many places I go without having to plan. Don't get overwhelmed, just get on the bus once.  And then do it again.  And again and again.  You'll figure it out.

The bus does take a little longer.  I often have to leave earlier or leave later than if I took a car.  In those moments are opportunities. The opportunity to be a little earlier to where I'm going. The opportunity to get a cup of coffee, read a book, or run another errand nearby.  The opportunity to sit at home for a few more minutes without rushing out the door.

I look at the weather every morning and for a couple of days ahead.  I have an umbrella ready.  I know my schedule for the day and I might take something with me I'll need later.  For example, a reusable shopping bag, my workout clothes, or something to put in the mail.  I usually pack my phone charger for longer trips.

Know your options

Everyone can figure out Metrorail.  We love to throw millions of confused tourists on it every year.  But there are lots of bus options that run through our local neighborhoods that make ditching the car possible.  You can almost get to and from anywhere notable in the region via bus and rail.

Metrobus

WMATA runs buses through the District of Columbia, Maryland and Virginia.  These buses run seven days a week, though not all lines run on weekends.  Most Metrobus service ends around 6 p.m. on Sundays (don't get stuck!).  Some lines cut off early in the evenings and some lines run as late as 11 p.m. or midnight.

Prince George's County "The Bus"

The Bus operates Monday through Friday.  They often have different, but similar, routes and times as Metrobus.  It adds to the options.  They also take riders farther out into the county.  For example, Upper Marlboro, Fort Washington and Brandywine.  Bring a book, because those are long hauls, but doable.  (And you don't have to drive!)  I've taken the bus to Upper Marlboro a couple of times this year, which I'll talk about shortly.

Shuttle-UM

This is the student shuttle for the University of Maryland.  It is free to ride with a pass. Just show your pass when you get on the bus.  Pass are free for Hyattsville and College Park residents and Greenbelt residents pay a $10 fee.

Route 113 is a loop that runs through Hyattsville Monday through Friday only.  It is a great option to get somewhere in Hyattsville or on Campus.  To get to anywhere else, including the College Park Metro, you have to go towards the Regents Garage and switch bus lines there.

Riverdale Park Station metro shuttle

If you get yourself over to Riverdale Park Station (where the Whole Foods is on Baltimore Avenue) and you need to get to the College Park Metro Station or Prince George's Plaza Metro Station, this free shuttle is an option.  It runs daily, every 15 minutes, between 6:30 a.m. and 9:00 a.m, as well as 4:30 p.m. and 7:00 p.m.

It picks up and drops off in front of Whole Foods.  Look for the sign in between the two entrances on 45th Avenue.

How to pay

First, the entire system is integrated with SmartTrip cards.  One SmartTrip card will get you on all Metro and county buses.  It's important when riding a bus that you have a SmartTrip card, because some of your trips will be discounted or free.

The base fare on a Metrobus is $2.  The express and airport buses are more expensive.  The base fare on The Bus is $1.25.

There is a two-hour window where you can transfer between bus and rail for free or a discount with the same SmartTrip card.  Bus-to -rail or rail-to-bus is a $0.50 discount.  All your bus-to-bus swipes in that two-hour period are free after the first trip.  It means you can run to the library, Whole Foods and back home for $1.25 or $2, if you do it in two hours.  It means if you have to take three buses to get somewhere, you can do it for just $1.25 or $2.

It is possible to get your transportation spending down to $70 per month via bus only and $135 or $185 for unlimited bus and rail use.  Metro passes are a beautiful thing.  For $17.50, I ride around everywhere on the bus all week.

Some of the biggest hurdles I had were understanding what the SmartTrip noises were, how to pay if your card is out and you don't have cash or exact change, and how to reload your SmartTrip card if you can't get to a rail station.

There are three or four different noises when you scan your SmartTrip card.  I am still figuring them out, because the driver is driving and doesn't have time to answer everyone's questions.  I think they are that the card was accepted, the card is on a transfer, the card is low, and "yo, pay up, there's no money on this thing."

You can pay a fare in exact bills, coins or a combination.  What I have learned is that you can add money to your SmartTrip card on the bus.  Scan the card, get the rejection buzz, add whatever amount of cash you want ($2, $5, $20, etc.), and rescan your card to get the accepted beep.  And there you go!  A reloaded SmartTrip card -- or at least a SmartTrip card with a two-hour transfer window.

SmartTrip cards can also be reloaded online.  If you reload online, then tap your card to get into a rail station, it will automatically load the card.  However, if you tap your card on a bus, the system takes several hours to load funds, and up to three days for bus passes.

If you find that your funds are not yet accessible to you, the Metro drivers are understanding.  Just explain you bought a pass or reloaded online, you don't have any cash, and you're waiting for it to kick in.  They will still let you ride.

So, you want to get off the bus?

To signal the driver you'd like to get off at the next stop, there are yellow cables on both sides of the bus that you pull.  It's important to know what your stop is and what the stop before your stop is.  Even though most buses have visual and/or audio prompts for the stops, those aren't always accurate.  The bus driver mostly relies on the red Metrobus signs and expects you to pull the cable just after the stop before yours.  Pulling too early or too late can result in the bus ending up at the wrong stop.

Some bus drivers know their routes well and if you tell them where you want to get off, they can make that happen.  However, some bus drivers don't know the routes or the stops and won't be able to help you.  If you make a mistake, just keep trying.  You'll get it.

How to get where you want to go

WMATA Trip Planner and Google Maps (using the directions function, then hitting the bus icon) help me plan my routes.  If I don't like my options on one, I will check the other.  Trip Planner is available on the WMATA homepage, as well as on several DC Metro Transit apps.  When unfamiliar, I will take paper notes of my route options with me, so that I can focus on bus times and not do research when I'm on the move.

I use BusETA and NextBus to scout bus routes, times, and stop locations (which can be tricky!).  BusETA is for WMATA buses.  It gives real and scheduled bus times online and often integrated on DC Metro apps.  I use BusETA on mobile web (not the app), because the times are more reliable.

NextBus is a website and a mobile app that applies to Prince George's County "The Bus," Shuttle-UM, and the DC Circulator.  It gives real time predictions and maps with bus locations.  Pretty cool!

Pro tips

• Bus drivers are really friendly most of the time and they try to be helpful when time and patience allows.  I can't imagine what they see on a daily basis, but they manage to keep their spirits up.  Bless their hearts.
• Metro stations are known for not having bathrooms, however, I had a long trip one day and discovered a nifty compilation of best options.  I absolutely scored at New Carrollton and Wiehle-Reston East.
• Lots of people roll strollers, food carts and suitcases right onto the bus.  Almost all the buses are kneeling buses, which means they can lower down to attempt to meet the curb.
• The buses come at regular intervals (but also earlier and later), so if you don't have a smartphone, they are still pretty reliable.  Each bus line has it's own interval for the time of day and day of the week.
• From approximately 11am to 3pm, it takes longer to get around depending on the line.  There is faster bus service during rush hour.
• Some of the rail stations have lots of bus stops on both sides.  I have missed a couple waiting on the wrong side for a bus.  If there are two sides and it's not easy to figure out, find the bus map, find your route and look if your bus route is on the N/S/E/W side.
• NEVER FORGET: All bus service cuts out early on Sundays. Don't get stuck!

Example long trip

Prince George's County Circuit Court, Upper Marlboro -- Several times, I've taken the bus to and from the Upper Marlboro courthouse.  I cut out Metrorail to save $2-3 each trip.  No matter what, riders have to catch the 21 county bus.  There's a couple of places to meet it, and it was trial and error until I found my best option.  The trip is a total of two hours one-way using public transportation. Beats the $15 to $20 via Uber Pool.

First, I took the F8 Metrobus south towards Cheverly and got off at Hospital Drive & Landover Road.  Then I picked up the A12 county bus south towards Addison Road Metro and got off at Brightseat Road & Maple Ridge Apartments.  Crossed the road to grab the 21 county bus south towards Upper Marlboro.

I recently discovered that if I picked up the 21 bus at New Carrollton, I had access to the Amtrak station, which means bathrooms, indoor seating, places to charge phones, and a full cafe stand.  Spoiled.  To get there, I just grab the F4 from Hyattsville or the T18 from Bladensburg, and I'm set.  It's still two hours, but there's a bathroom and food along the way.

Mistakes

I have made some pretty fatal bus errors. In January, I worked a lot during that snow storm. I was able to take the bus one place and didn't even think about Metro suspending bus service. That was a bad night. 

I have also been caught twice by not realizing bus service cuts out really early on Sundays. One of those Sundays, I was stranded at Starbucks after a Whole Foods shopping trip with no bus, a phone that wouldn't charge, and freezing temperatures. Pastor Ishmael Wilson and associate from Fresh Dry Cleaners drove me home. Thank you!

Then there was a lot of rain one day and I wasn't sure how to get from A to B.  I just missed the 86 bus I needed to catch at 38th and Hamilton. I watched it drive by me as I was almost at the stop.  I ended up just walking to Brentwood in the rain from West Hyattsville Metro. Whatever, I got home to Bladensburg via T18 and found my basement apartment had flooded and knocked out half of my belongings during my last big move. I eventually dried out a few days later.

Take the bus!

I am learning from my bus mistakes, and everyone can, too. I love taking the bus and almost all of my experiences are positive. I love having time to read, encouraging myself to walk if I want, as well as not dealing with the stress of owning a car and driving. I am zipping around the region, as usual.

My challenge to everyone reading this: the next time you see a bus or a bus stop sign near some place you go, get online and figure out where else that bus goes. You just might find you go there, too.

Easter Edition: My love-hate relationship with holiday closures

Another holiday came and went.  There are always people who have to work on these holidays we don't see.  We will still always be able to get gas or watch TV news.  We're always going to be able to go to the movies or order Chinese food.

I've worked in TV news for so long, I only get excited about holidays that happen on old days off.  Like Thanksgiving -- I used to have Thursday/Friday off.

We expect closures on a holiday so people can observe their religions or with their families.  BUT -- and I am so guilty of this -- so many of us are planning for closures, while expecting everything to be open.  This is causing businesses to keep employees working when we should all "be with our families."

My experience yesterday was that Chipolte was closed, but the patios at every nearby restaurant were full.  It caused me to step back and start a discussion.