By Corrie Driebusch

WOODBRIDGE, Va. -- At 6:47 a.m. on a recent Wednesday, the Horner Road Commuter Lot started filling with workers in suits, military uniform and fleece quarter-zips. In the still-dark, they formed an orderly queue in Lot 8.

A car pulled up, the driver rolled down his window and, after a brief exchange, two commuters hopped in for the 30-minute drive to the Pentagon, zooming past gridlock traffic.

Slugging, a Washington, D.C., tradition, is back.

These slugs aren't of the mollusk variety. They're commuters looking to bypass the capital's notorious traffic and the high tolls charged to ride solo in express lanes. And it's been years since they've been this eager to jump into a stranger's car.

After a pandemic lull, traffic is now worsening by the day thanks to President Trump's call for government employees to return to the office five days a week.

Slugging is an obvious answer. It matches suburban riders who are sick of either sitting in traffic for hours or paying hundreds of dollars a month for express lanes with drivers who need bodies in passenger seats to take advantage of free HOV, or high-occupancy vehicle, carpool lanes. It's a trust exercise of sorts, with riders queuing up in so-called slug lines to hop into unfamiliar cars with the promise they'll be dropped off at a certain corner in or around D.C., sometimes with a return trip in the evening.

It's "the most organized hitchhiking I'd seen in my entire life," said Ryan Baker, 44, a slugger since 2016.

Shannon Augustine, 48, slugs almost daily these days to her job at Gallaudet University. She said lots are filling up faster, and she suspects it will be worse later this month as more government employees are forced back to the office every day.

Some government agencies instructed workers to report to the office starting as early as Feb. 24. Others have dates in March. Labor unions are fighting the directive, arguing it violates collective bargaining agreements guaranteeing the right of many employees to work remotely.

Augustine started slugging over a decade ago from Woodbridge to 14th Street in D.C. She took a break during Covid, but was queuing up again in 2021.

"There's a big difference now in the way people behave," she said.

Slugging has long had its own culture and etiquette. If the driver doesn't talk, you ride in silence. If there is conversation, certain topics are considered off-limits. That includes politics, religion and complaining about the driving. Other rules include not griping about the temperature or radio station.

Augustine has seen regular slugging faux pas in recent months: A driver speeding down the roadway at more than 80 miles an hour; a rider opening a bag of Fritos, filling the car with a scent she can't stand.

Washington's ad hoc carpooling grew out of the 1970s oil crisis and became ingrained in suburban culture over the following decades. The D.C., Maryland, Virginia region, or DMV -- where hundreds of thousands of workers pour over bridges and highways into the capital each weekday -- is a drag for commuters. The INRIX Global 2024 Traffic Scorecard reported that drivers lost 62 hours in congestion on average throughout the year.

Slugging took a hit during the Covid-19 pandemic, but loyal users like Augustine and Baker say it's picking back up, particularly since the start of the year.

Baker, who returned to slug lines in January after a several-year break, said he is feeling the effects. Earlier this year, he could roll up to the slug parking lot at 6 a.m. and easily get a spot right up front. Now, the lot is much fuller.

The surge is still patchy. A recent visit to a fancy new slugging location in Springfield, Va., revealed spottily populated slug lines. The Horner Road lot, a more popular location farther out, is bustling.

It could also be short-lived. While workers are getting called back to offices, the Trump administration has been eliminating many federal jobs and is considering plans to move others out of D.C.

But for those returning to the slug line or using it for the first time, it's a more streamlined experience. What used to be a scrappy word-of-mouth service where slugs found drivers in the former Bob's Big Boy restaurant parking lot in Springfield is now more formal.

There are WhatsApp groups where drivers send messages that they'll arrive at a certain slug line at a certain time. Last year, the newly built Springfield Garage opened with three designated slug lines, each going to different destinations in D.C. or to the Pentagon.

Keith Foxx loves slugging for personal and professional reasons. He runs an engineering firm where a main client is the D.C. Transportation Department.

A decade ago Foxx reluctantly slugged for the first time. He could hardly believe how fast he zipped into D.C. from Virginia: "I said, 'Holy Crap!' and the rest was history."

He formed two close friendships during those years. "They're in my phone as Amy Slug and John Slug," he said. Instead of joining a slug line, the trio chose to ride together daily.

Since the pandemic, Amy and John have either moved away or retired, Foxx said, so he's back in the slugging pool looking for some new slug besties.

Nowadays, Foxx is a driver, not a slug. He heads to the slug line at Springfield Garage, rolls down his window, and simply states, "L'Enfant." Two passengers get in.

"I zoom down 395, driving by all the traffic in the single-use lanes," he says. "It's a beautiful thing."

Write to Corrie Driebusch at corrie.driebusch@wsj.com

(END) Dow Jones Newswires

March 18, 2025 05:30 ET (09:30 GMT)

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