I was having coffee in Union Station recently, at one in the afternoon, enjoying the little market that I didn’t know they had every Saturday, when she entered. She wandered out of the part of the station where the commuter trains came in (though it could have been anywhere in the building), and she was tipsy.

She may have gone to one of the nice restaurants and had a liquid lunch. She may have been with a friend in Maryland or Virginia and had a few drinks before hopping on the train. She may have still been drunk from the night before.

She was happy, flitting from table to table, trying on jewelry and talking to the vendors about what they’re selling. She was charming to watch. She eventually wandered over to the coffee kiosk near me and stood in the line for people waiting for their drinks, and that’s where I left her when I decided to head home.

On my way to the Metro, I nearly collided with her, but she didn’t notice. Halfway to the turnstiles, I decided to get some Gatorade, so I headed downstairs to the drugstore. Immediately ahead of me in line, there she was, buying the largest bottle of water you can find, as well as a 16-ounce can of Red Bull.

I don’t know what happened to her after that, but I’m assuming it was fun.