It’s always nice to start someone else’s day by putting a smile on their face.

This morning I got to see such a smile twice as I made my way home from work. I walked into the Metro parking garage with my iPod blaring and just a short drive standing between me and some much needed sleep.

As I got closer to my car on the first level, I saw a car slowly creeping past the rows. If you have ever been to a mall, you know exactly what I’m talking about. The driver is in a quest for the perfect space, even though the odds suggest they won’t find it here. They should really be up on the fourth level since this prime real estate filled up two hours ago.

But this young woman was in luck. She happened to come into the garage just as someone was going home from work at 8:45 a.m.

About five seconds after I first spotted her, she came to a stop. She looked at me hoping I was actually there to retrieve a car and not just cutting through the garage on my way to somewhere else on foot. Lacking a better way to communicate, I simply pointed in the direction of my car and gave her a nod.

Smile number one.

It took me another 20 seconds or so to actually get to the car. Then in the process of fumbling for my keys and taking off my backpack while still listening to the iPod, I got the headphones tangled in the backpack. Another 15 seconds of getting myself free from that web and I was able to vacate the now-coveted space.

As I drove by she gave me a wave and what was easily the biggest smile I had seen all day. Granted, I had not seen many people, and most that I did see were on the train on their way to work. But whatever.

My last post featured some sort of vague promise about posting yesterday, but working overnights really scrambles your concept of days/time so I’ll just say this is close enough. An example of the craziness — It’s slightly before 10 a.m. and I just had a bowl of cereal for “breakfast,” and will now be going to bed.

Good Mornight.

Sometimes it’s the small things in life that keep you going. Other times, it’s the really small things that give you a boost.

Coming back on the Metro always ends my day with a smile, and not just because I am close to being home. There is a point at which the train stops halfway down the platform, for just a few moments, before continuing on to the end of the platform.

Hopefully you can appreciate the amount of time I spent on the above illustration.

The people on the platform waiting to get on the train are always thrown off by the fake stop action. If they ride Metro often enough they should know that right now trains are being operated manually and always stop at the end of the platform.

And yet, day after day, the train comes to that initial stop and everyone lines up at the doors as if they are about to open. There is little that is more entertaining than seeing the confused looks on their faces as the train pulls away toward the end of the track. It is as if the train has rejected them as passengers, deeming them unfit to make the ride.

Fortunately for them, trains don’t think that way. At least, I hope they don’t.

Since I am blogging every day this month, I thought I would try some new things. I have never done a running diary of anything, and with an overnight shift at work what better time to try it out? Here’s the 10 p.m. to 8 a.m. shift writing news for the world (all times Eastern):

9:02 Okay, here we go! On the Metro from Vienna to downtown D.C. Odd that on a train with so few people, we all seem to be packed into the same area of this train.

9:06 The guy in the seat to my left is rocking out to his iPod. And by rocking out I mean he should be featured on the auditions for American Idol since he clearly thinks he’s a FAR better singer than he actually is. Strangely, as more people get on the train, he seems to sing louder. The falsetto is not helping his case.

9:18 Two girls just got on at the Virginia Square station. I would peg them at 20 years old. One of them is explaining the plot of “Office Space,” which clearly means the other has never seen it. I resisted the urge to throw something at her.

9:37 Just got off the train at Federal Center. I know it’s almost 10 on a Friday night, but no one else EVER gets off at this station. Don’t they know how happening this area is at night?

9:42 Got the assignments for today. We’re covering Europe, the Middle East and sports. Good mix for an overnight — while Europe sleeps I can write sports stories and when I want to sleep the Euro folks will wake up and keep me busy.

10:19 Quick start to this shift — legendary UCLA coach John Wooden has died. The Washington Post took some heat earlier today because they reported his death yesterday. Always interesting to see how quickly everyone can put out their pre-prepared obits for famous figures. L.A. Times was ready with a great one.

11:09 Took a while to fill my obit out, but I think it’s a decent look at Wooden for our audience.

11:18 In case you were wondering, all of Europe appears to be very, very asleep.

11:43 That means lots of trolling for stories, including the always-enjoyable London newspapers. Interesting story I’m not writing about–UK considering dropping its legal limit for drinking/driving from .08 to .05.

11:54 In other random news, an Australian restaurant REALLY wants you to finish your plate.

12:26 There’s some trouble brewing in the Middle East. An aid ship is heading towards Gaza, which the Israelis are not exactly keen on letting happen. LOTS of conflicting reports about what is going on here — some say the ship has been intercepted, some say it has been boarded, while others say none of that has happened. Might take some time for sources to get things straight so I can do a story.

1:28 Most painful story of the night to write. Philadelphia Flyers even the Stanley Cup Finals at 2-2. Game five Sunday in Chicago.

1:42 Big advantage of working your overnight shifts in a media environment: there is a TV on my desk. Latenight with Jimmy Fallon is a rerun (though usually a surprisingly entertaining show). I also can’t believe I don’t hate this Carson Daly show. He just had an interview with former Minnesota Governor (and wrestling star) Jesse Ventura. Ventura has book about all kinds of historical truths. Just said the U.S. government knew about 9/11 and let it happen.

1:46 Just polished off a lemon lime Gatorade and a granola bar. May have erred in not bringing a sandwich. Check back in a few hours.

2:47 There’s a CNN sports show out of London earlllly in the morning. It is strange to see highlights of our sports with a British accent…particularly hockey.

2:52 Orange Gatorade has been opened. Nacho Cheese Doritos won’t be far behind.

3:20 With Europe still asleep, time to do a baseball recap story. Poor Orioles.

4:01 Finally have enough agreeing information to put together an Israel/Gaza story.

4:32 Celebrating with the Doritos. Crunchy foods are an amazing asset to staying awake.

4:52. Struggling a bit…employing the nuclear bomb of awakeness — chewing gum.

5:45 Rest of the Middle East is awake. Politician in Iraq has been shot and killed in his home. Second from the Iraqiya bloc (just won most seats in parliamentary elections) to be killed in two weeks.

6:09 New info out of Gaza — confirmation from Israeli military that they boarded the ship. Live interviews on al Jazeera have been REALLY good all night.

6:57 Oh look, British Airways crews are going on strike…again. Third time since March and second in as many weeks. They always seem to announce the details of their strikes long in advance.

7:04 Looks like a growing bloc of countries are ready to drop the U.N. sanctions hammer on Iran. Russian President Dmitri Medvedev just announced a deal is in place (Russia has long resisted because of close economic ties to Tehran). Look for something Monday.

7:37 Iran story is out. Always interesting to get stories that cover both of your regions at once (Iran-ME, Russia & Germany-Euro). If only they could have worked a soccer game in there somewhere I’d really have something.

8:00 Off to the Metro and a nice nap. Goodnight. Or is it Good day? G’Day? Whatever.

It’s Friday and I have two thoughts, each of which I will expand upon below.

1. A subway car is a really awkward place to say goodbye to someone.
2. Katharine McPhee is not Natalie Portman

After a morning appointment in Washington, D.C., this morning I took the Metro back home to Virginia. When I boarded the train there were two young women sharing the seat just in front of mine.

I would guess they are of college age, mainly because it was the middle of the day and they were talking about things that sounded plausibly like school assignments. At one of the first Virginia stations one of the girls got up to get off the train. She wrapped up the conversation and as she took a step towards the door she said “have a great day.”

The train stopped. The doors didn’t open right away, leaving the girl to stand four feet away from someone she said goodbye to. She was left looking down at the floor for a solid 25 seconds. I don’t know how she fought the urge to turn and at least make some sort of remark to break the obvious tension.

Last night I was watching the NBC show Community with one of my roommates (CA from earlier posts). This episode featured guest star Katharine McPhee, who I understand has some sort of American Idol fame.

I think during the entire episode CA was trying to figure out who she was, because late in the show the following exchange took place:

CA: “Oh, it’s that chick from Star Wars!”
CJH: “Natalie Portman?”
CA: “Yes.”
CJH: “That is not Natalie Portman.”
CA: “Yes it is.”
CJH: “I assure you it is not.”

If you read somewhat regularly, you may know I am a Natalie Portman fan and thus should be an authority on “is that Natalie Portman?”

Compare for yourself:

Katharine McPhee

Natalie Portman

I rest my case.

If anyone knows Cheryl Wilburn, let her know I’m getting her emails. Thanks.

Shortly before the 2008 presidential election I began getting emails from the Obama campaign. At first I didn’t think it was too odd, since I was in favor of the Senator’s candidacy. But when I looked more closely, they were actually trying to send emails to Cheryl Wilburn. I can only assume her email is something like chwilburn@yahoo.com, just one letter different from my own.

I hope she hasn’t missed out on any of the events that have followed. Today the mailing list, which has now turned into “USA Service,” touted the president’s initiative to increase community service around the U.S. The new organization is also apparently on a first-name basis with recipients now, saying only “Dear Cheryl” and leaving off the last name. Nice to know they’re cozy like that.

According to the email, they are “grateful for the work you’ve done since the National Day of Service in January.” Make that the work Cheryl has apparently done since January. I hope her service isn’t dependent on getting pep talks and adulation in her inbox.

On a completely different note, it must suck to be a dentist. I went today and got the expected “you need to floss more.” Seriously, who actually flosses the correct amount?

That’s why it would be terrible to be a dentist. All day, every day, you’re seeing people who flat out ignore the instructions you give them when you meet one or two times a year. You think to yourself how simple a task flossing is, how little time it takes and how it is clearly good for each and every patient.

And yet nobody listens. I bet dentists have a higher number of kids than the national average, if only so they have someone under their roof they can MAKE floss as often as they feel is necessary. I’d also bet children of dentists are extremely unlikely to be dentists themselves, opting to work at ice cream shops and chocolatiers in disproportionate numbers.

On my way home from the dentist I stopped to get gas. At the pump next to me…a MetroAccess bus. They’re coming to get me.

It’s never a good thing when a nemesis you thought you had made peace with returns, and nearly kills you.

Back in my grad school days at the University of Maryland, I was dispatched to do a story on cuts in the MetroAccess program in the Washington, D.C. area. MetroAccess provides rides to the disabled who cannot use the bus/rail options provided by the area transit authority.

It should have been an easy story–interview a few users who would be inconvenienced by the cuts, a metro spokesperson defending the cuts, and get some video of the MetroAccess cars and buses. Before doing the story, and even that morning on my way to the interviews, I saw the vehicles everywhere.

As soon as I was looking for a few to get on tape for the story, they mysteriously disappeared from the streets. I spent a solid half an hour walking around downtown D.C. waiting for one of them to go by. Never happened. So I went to locations where they could be picking people up or dropping them off, such as complexes with multiple doctors offices that served the elderly/disabled. Again, nothing.

The professor serving as our assignment editor calls to tell me she has found the main MetroAccess compound in Maryland. The way she’s talking about it, it seems like she has contacted them and they are allowing me to come and get video. So I go there, get out my camera and start shooting. After about 15 minutes, a vanload of very official-looking people show up and come right towards me. They want to know who I am and what the bejeesus I am doing there.

I explain the phone call, after which I am asked to go inside and talk to their security people. They say they have no record of the call, and nobody remembers talking to the professor. After a short time of explaining my harmless intentions, they ask for my card and ask me to leave. I comply.

The second I got out of their parking lot I called the professor to ask why I was in yet another position to be detained while shooting a story. She says basically not to worry about it…and the story ends up being really lame anyway.

Fast forward to last week. I was crossing a street in D.C. with the light. There was a left turn lane that also had a green light, with the drivers expected to not plow over people utilizing the crosswalk. The driver of a MetroAccess bus pulls into the intersection, not even remotely seeing me. Good thing I was paying attention and could run a few steps to get out of his way. It was only then he made eye contact and sped away. Good thing I’m nimble; that would be a terrible way for my life to end.

If you’re driving at night, it’s generally a good idea to have your headlights on. But once you arrive at a destination it’s an equally good idea to turn them off. Otherwise bored people such as myself may take a picture of your illuminated front end and write about it on the internets.

I got the call around 10 p.m. A friend was going to be stranded at a metro station due to a slight lack of forethought in planning his day. No matter. Like the heroic George Costanza going to pick up Jerry Seinfeld at the airport, I was up for the job.

I arrive at the Vienna station’s parking lot a few minutes before the train arrives. There are a few other cars there, but none are occupied. While I wait, four cars arrive in my area of the lot. Despite being a somewhat lit area, and the fact that the vehicles are not moving, three of the four cars keep their headlights on for at least the 10 minutes I was there.

I thought maybe I was not giving them the benefit of the doubt and they may just not have noticed the lights were on. But one was parked directly across from me, as seen in this cell phone photo. It’s not like we were in a barren field illuminated by floodlights. It was somewhat light by a few lights, but still dark enough you should see the extra bright parking meter, bus stop shed dealio or certainly the car across from you as some dude took your picture.

It could have also been a way they thought they could more easily spot their passenger for pickup. But in mine and the two other cases I saw, the drivers typically spotted their cargo long before they reached the lot and drove up to meet them.

Perhaps the best explanation was an attempted summoning of some sort of mother ship. Had I turned on my lights, we may have made an incredible breakthrough in contacting and attracting other life forms to our planet. Sorry. I didn’t get the Facebook invitation to the event.

But remember, always fork carefully.

I had a fantastic day off today, spending a majority of my time in the District, one of the few times in recent memory that I’ve not had any school or work obligations while there.

So of course I took advantage of decent weather to stroll down the mall and check out some museums after having lunch with a friend. It’s definitely much nicer getting around down there when it’s not 97 degrees, you’re not wearing business attire, and there aren’t 4000 kids in color-coordinated shirts shuffling around everywhere.

But there are still people on the Metro, and despite it being crowded in the early afternoon when I was leaving, those people are always good for entertainment.

Today’s subject: Helga. Or at least, that’s what I named her, since she kind of looked like a Helga.

Helga boarded the Orange Line train headed for Vienna with her husband, whom we’ll call Tim. Being a crowded train, there were not seats available to Helga and Tim, so they stood right in front of me in the center of the car.

Several stops later, a woman to my right gets off, freeing up a seat. Helga jumps on it like a Pilgrim on a turkey. Only one potential problem: she’s on the window side with another woman, Rosario, occupying the isle seat.

Stops go by. People get on and off our train. Rosario remains seated, and eventually dozes off to sleep. Her cell phone rings. She doesn’t move. Helga looks worried.

There are only a few more stops left before Helga will be getting off, albeit at the end of the line. Still, if Rosario doesn’t wake up, she’ll have to do something uncomfortable like say “excuse me,” or–GASP–perhaps even tap Rosario on the shoulder.

We arrive at Vienna, the last stop on the Orange Line. Customers, please exit this train, this train is out of service.

Rosario doesn’t budge. She’s zonked out. Helga looks really worried, like she may never get off this train. She looks to Tim for answers. Tim is in the aisle already, waiting only for Helga to get up so he can move on with his life. Helga looks like she’s on the brink of tears. Must she touch this woman?!

Tim whispers to her from seven feet away: “Say excuse me.” He whispers as if Rosario is going to stab him if she hears the instructions, or I’m going to think he’s weird if I hear.

Helga says “excuse me” in the quietest voice I’ve ever heard. It’s like a small child whose mother is forcing him to say thank you to a relative for a gift of socks. They only do it because that’s what they’re supposed to do in the situation, there’s no feeling there and they’re really hoping someone else’s actions will bail them out.

Rosario still doesn’t move. We’ve been stopped for 15 seconds. Helga looks as if someone is burning down her house right in front of her, only they’re taking individual items from the house and slowly burning each one with a match just to torture her.

Tim becomes more assertive, saying louder this time that Helga should tap the woman on the shoulder. Helga gives the tap just as enthusiastically as the “excuse me.” Rosario doesn’t move.

Summoning the strength of a mother lifting a car off her child, Helga finally touches Rosario with enough force to wake her up. There is joy in Vienna, for mighty Helga can now finally get out.