OVERHEARD: The 'Real World' on the Orange Line

WHILE I ENJOYED my time living in a group house, sometimes I am reminded how fortunate that I don't have to live with others. Leaving work last night and heading home on the Orange Line bound for the District, I came across a two D.C.-bound twentysomething guys who had come from Clarendon or beyond, sitting in adjacent seats, talking about nonsense while passing a shiny, shiny flask between the two of them. The alcohol, for sure, muted their senses as to the high volume of their discourse.

Perhaps they had been watching the "Real World Key West" on MTV, but things started getting real on the train. (Editor's note: What follows is not verbatim, but it's awfully close.)

"Man, please don't take this the wrong way. ... No, seriously, don't take this the wrong way."

The other guy, slumped back in the seat, looked up, not looking all that keen about what was about to be said. So he stared off into nothingness, eyes glazed over.

"Whadup, man? ..."

"I mean man ... Yeah, don't take this the wrong way. You know that the house is getting dirty. And all the guys are pulling their weight."

"Huhh? ..."

"You know, we take the trash out and stuff. Kevin mops the floor. You know, in the kitchen."

"Yeah."

"And you just haven't been there for us. ... When we go to bed, we go and clean up your stuff in the kitchen. You know, pick up stuff. Well, we thought you should know that. It's not that we don't like you. You're a cool dude. We just all have to be responsible."

"Yeah."

"OK, I'm glad we talked about that."

"Yeah. OK."

Mr. Responsible then said, "I can't wait to hit the bar. Let's hope the ladies are smokin'."

"Dude, pass the flask."