Since my plans for the day have gone straight out the window, I’m thinking about switching gears and attending the “Save Darfur” rally on the Mall instead. It’s supposed to be a nice day for it, and stuff like this always provides cheap entertainment.

Of course, it might not be such a good show after all. My friend Cam, who’s one of the most connected D.C. insider guys I know, said upon hearing about my tentative plans to go downtown, “There’s a Darfur rally?” So, you know, we might not be talking record-breaking attendance here.

Anybody else thinking about checking it out?

I like the Metro. I really do. But sometimes WMATA can just kiss my ass.

TMBG — as we hip young urbanites call them — got a reputation in the 90s for being almost inaccessibly quirky, thanks to songs like 1990’s inexpicable if catchy “Particle Man.” (”When he’s underwater does he get wet?/Or does the water get him instead?/Nobody knows./Particle Man.”)

But the band’s live show consists largely of more danceable, and especially more singable, fare like the almost shockingly good “Experimental Film” and “Boss of Me,” the title tune from the sitcom “Malcolm in the Middle.” When the band broke into the opening lines of that number (”Yes, no, maybe./I don’t know./Could you repeat the question?”) The crowd went nuts. Seriously. Nuts.

And this reporter, I’m not ashamed to admit, went nuts right along with them. There’s something deeply cathartic about screaming “You’re not the boss of me now, and you’re not so big!” at the top of your lungs along with a thousand of your closest friends.

Starting Saturday morning and extending through the end of the IMF meeting on Sunday, the following blocks are going to be closed to traffic:

• G Street NW between 17th and 20th
• H Street NW between 18th and 19th
• 18th, 19th and 20th streets NW between Pennsylvania and F

If you park in a garage inside that area, get your car out by 11 p.m. tomorrow night.

Access on foot is going to be restricted also between 5 a.m. Saturday and 7 p.m. Sunday. If you don’t live or work inside that area, you won’t be allowed in. Even if you do live or work there, you’ll be required to show an ID with an address inside the area.

Address complaints to the Department of We-Don’t-Care, third floor.

I spent the holiday weekend in Dallas, home of Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport, one of the most expansive air-transport hubs in the world. My flight left Reagan at eight-thirty Saturday morning and arrived at DFW about three hours later. A more telling study in contrasts, I couldn’t imagine.

Reagan isn’t a tiny airport; with three concourses, it handles a significant amount of traffic into and out of the D.C. metro area. But as airports go, it’s remarkably easy to get into and out of, whether by car or train. From the Metro to your gate — if we ignore the logistical nightmare that is TSA screening — is a five-minute walk. Six if you stop for coffee.

DFW, on the other hand, was seemingly built to be as difficult to get into and out of as possible. The drive from the airport boundary to your terminal can be as long as ten minutes. That presumes, of course, that you’ve identified in advance from which of the airport’s five massive terminals your flight is departing. If you’re flying on American Airlines — DFW is American’s hub, so if you’re flying out of that airport odds are you’re on that airline — your flight could be departing from any of three terminals. Forget to check in advance via phone or the Web? You’re out of luck. The large, illuminated signs at the airport entrance that once announced, Burma-Shave-style, departing gates by flight number, were dismantled years ago. Seems they were causing too many accidents.

So let’s say you did your homework and you know from which terminal your flight is departing. You next must deal with the problem of parking. Here’s everything you need to know about parking at DFW: There’s no parking at DFW. Seriously. Just leaving for the day? Tough. You’ve gotta park in the remote, long-term lot because there are no open spaces in the garage. Sure, the parking rate is cheaper out in the sticks, but taking the shuttle bus from long-term parking to the terminal adds as much as twenty or thirty minutes to your trip.

But let’s say instead of departing from DFW, you’re arriving. Say you flew into DFW and, foolishly, checked a bag. What greets you when you arrive in the Lone Star State is the hell-on-Earth that is DFW baggage claim.

You’re going to think I’m exaggerating. When I say this, you’re going to thing I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. When claiming checked bags at DFW, waits at the carousel of an hour or more are not unheard of. Seriously. The problem is one of simple geography. DFW is so vast that shuttling your Samsonite from tarmac to terminal can take thirty or even forty-five minutes. By the time your luggage hits the carousel, your trip is half over.

One of the most trivial but widely felt effects of 9/11 is that air travel has become, and will continue to be, a frustrating ordeal. But we D.C.-area residents have it lucky. Compared to a baffling and infuriating airport like DFW, Reagan is like sweet tea in the summertime.

It’s not that it’s a hard name to say. It’s pronounced just like it’s spelled. “Ross-lyn.” Two syllables. Easy.

The trouble arises when you take the blue line from parts south into the city in the morning, and you’re unlucky enough to get that one driver. You know the one I mean. The one who evidently left his job in drive-time radio to join WMATA. “Nnnnnnext stop,” he delights in announcing, “Rozz-a-lyn!”

Every single morning.

You’re not helping the newbies, man. You’re not helping them fit in.

The crowd there wasn’t too bad, but the trains had to be seen to be believed. It was like a Tokyo rush hour in there, with riders packed elbow-to-eyeball in every car on every train.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, at least half of the riders on my train went all the way to the end of the line, Franconia-Springfield, no doubt taking advantage of the gianormous parking deck next to that station platform.

Judging by how many of the riders were stymied by the turnstiles as they tried to exit the station, I can only imagine the horror that must have ensued when they realized they couldn’t leave the garage without a SmartTrip card.

Please be advised that according to Park Police and the Metropolitan Police Department, there will be an immigration protest Monday afternoon, April 10th. The protesters will gather between 1:00pm and 3:00pm in Meridian Park (also known as Malcolm X Park) on 16th Street. At 3:00pm they will march from the Park south to H Street and then turn west on H Street to south on 15th Street going toward the Mall.

Park Police have issued a permit for 600 people to march. However, there are media reports of “tens of thousands” of protesters being involved. The media attention regarding recent immigration protests across the country and pending immigration legislation in Congress could bring out more people. There is also some information indicating that counter protest organizations could try to impact the march. Although Park Police and MPD are not giving out an official estimate, off the record they are saying between 30,000 - 50,000 people could show up and they are planning accordingly.

If the march attracts large or even small numbers, it will cause major traffic problems over a large area of the city. In addition, if counter protest organizations get involved, there may be clash points along the march route between the two groups.

We suggest that if your route out of the city at the end of your work day takes you through the vicinity of these activities, you investigate alternate routes home for Monday afternoon. In addition, stay tuned to your local television and radio stations for updates throughout the day.

Depending on how busy my afternoon is on Monday, I might bop over there for a few minutes to check out the festivities. If anybody wants to meet up with me — or lend me a camera; I’m looking at you, Tom — I’m all over it.