As the train pulled into Virginia Sq., a rider neared the door and prepared to get off. For some reason, none of the doors in the car opened. He rolled his eyes, let his shoulders drop, looked around with a forlorn look on his face and saw other cars were offloading. Realizing he was helpless, he gave the door a half-hearted kick—more of a languid tap, honestly—which, of course, did nothing. Not sure he expected it to, really. He was stuck for the time being. The doors opened at the next station, and he got off.
At Smithsonian, a lanky guy with a giant backpack was barreling down the escalator (It was more of a controlled fall.) racing toward the train, and as the “doors closing” chimes rang, he lunged into the car as the doors closed right behind him. He must’ve gotten his feet caught a little because he did a very awkward face plant right in the middle of the car. It looked like a failed cartwheel, but instead of using his arms, he used his face. At the end of the tumble, he landed with a thud up against the doors on the opposite side. It must’ve hurt, but he bounced up, checked for blood, laughed it off and had a seat.
Other amusing anecdotes:
Karma's a bitch