METRO'S GOT TALENT
They heard her before they could see her.
"It's a new day," the little girl was singing as she weaved nonchalantly through the rush-hour commuters packed into the aisle of a Red Line train, her dad struggling to keep up. "It's a new life."
"It's a new day," the world's tiniest Michael Buble fan repeated, squeezing past a seated passenger and plopping down in an empty window seat, leaving her dad standing nearby. "It's a new life."
"For me," she sang, staring out the window, oblivious to those packed around her. "And I'm feeling good!"
SAFE FOR FLUSHING -- YOUR EYE OUT
The woman had no desire to drink tap water -- especially D.C. water. But one morning, her contacts were proving to be quite the bother.
She kept blinking to get rid of the irritation, but to no avail. She sat at her desk, contemplating whether to walk to the nearby CVS and buy some solution, but didn't feel like walking or spending money for overpriced product.
Finally, she stood up, went to the ladies' room, popped out her right lens, and let the D.C. water runneth over.
Popping the lens in, she could see clearly, even if she felt a little queasy.
ROCK ON, ANDREW JACKSON
At an Annapolis coffee shop late one afternoon, a man and a woman were discussing the young woman's recent fascination with American history. She had read several books on the presidency, and had just ordered another about the country's seventh president, Andrew Jackson.
All she knew about Jackson, she explained, is that he was "kind of a jerk" and may or may not have been responsible for the Trail of Tears.
"I heard there's a musical about him playing in D.C. right now, something called 'Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson,'" the man offered.
"Is it a comedy?"
"I don't know. I think it's a rock opera set in modern times."
"Then at the very least, it must be unintentionally funny."
VITAMIN C: WORTH EVERY PENNY
After settling a debate over which walking path would provide the most shade, a cluster of downtown coworkers set out for lunch at a food truck parked by 20th and L Streets Northwest.
They arrived, sweaty and hungry, to Pepe -- the Jose Andres food truck known for offering a $20 sandwich.
While most of the group decided to order sandwiches in the vicinity of $9, one of the lunchers got sticker-shock. She left the line to buy a sandwich and a bottle of orange juice from one of the no-name delis dotting every street of downtown.
To the woman's surprise -- and her coworker's wicked delight -- her bill still came to around $9. She shrugged as she rejoined the group, and reasoned that she was getting more Vitamin C from her juice than the group from their gourmet sandwiches.
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