The Light Rail and I are on easy terms. We may need to seek couples' counseling, because I just can't look the Light Rail in the eye anymore. It's been eleven days and I continue to harbor resentment. It wasn't always this way; we used to share a mutual love and respect. Alas, my favorite method of public transit hath let me down!

I thought I would take the Light Rail a few weekends ago into the city and save the hassle of trying to park. This is, to date, one of the worst ideas I've ever had. First I just missed the train, and while I am accepting full responsibility for this I'm willing to act a little dramatic given the events following in favor of saying that my former love was trying to spite me. The wait was minimal but I still arrived late to the festivities--where I should have arrived early--and missed everything:



Pride Parade? What parade, pray tell, do you speak of, dear lady?
All I could find as remnants that there had been a procession at all was this truck:


Boo. Everything had ended, so I ended up walking back, taking the train, and then--I thought I was lucky here--getting the Hampden Shuttle. I waited almost half an hour for that bus to move, I tell ya, and it was at this point I realized if I had just driven to the city and fought for parking, I would have been fine. Because I had missed everything my friend convinced me to skip a little of the Mt. Dew Tour for the block party. The block party was a good idea, but waiting for the train to take me to Camden Yards was not.

The Light Rail, once a bringer of joy, lumbered slowly to Camden Yards, and as it reached the next-to-last stop...my friends called to say the competition was over. Bucky Lasek had won, and they were going home.

Oh, forsooth, Light Rail! Ye let me down and I may never recover.