Four days in DC. In summer. On days like this, I always flash on a Simpson’s episode (don’t I always?) of Mr. Lisa Goes to Washington.
“The city of Washington was built on a stagnant swamp some 200 years ago
and very little has changed; it stank then and it stinks now.”
In the show they were talking about corruption. I was talking about the 98 degree heat and the 97% humidity. My suits were sopped. My shirts (dress and t) had to hang for days to dry out, not that I was planning on wearing them again during the same trip.
Knowing the city in summer, I did pick a hotel that has an outdoor pool. Not that I really want anyone seeing me in swim trunks, but better they be strangers than folks I know. The swims I had really lowered my body core temperature on two of those days.
Wednesday, after the rosary/opera event I posted yesterday, the skies opened up. I was on my way to dinner…..all by my lonesome (sigh) and then the rains came. It was biblical.
Ruckiry (not Jon’s boss), I was a block away from JRs, so I ducked in there, as I had no umbrella with me. There is a certain reader or two who might cringe when I mention this bar – as they will automatically go back in time to a certain November 2000 night when there was some gaseous moments and follow-up comments from the surrounding clientele.
The story and though of it always makes me smile. That night I was in tears. Partially from the noxious odors, but mainly from the unsuspecting bar goers. The hysterics went on so long, we finally had to leave the bar.
In a saloon where there can be a lot of standing and modeling, there is not usually folks cramping from laughter. No one there is supposed to have that much fun. We were. (and for the record, the offender was not me!)
But the other night I chatted up this handsome little number while I waited for the rain to stop (which it never did) – or did he chat up me? This was post-happy hour situation. Some work folks, but hardly a crowded bar. I was just tossing back Rolling Rocks and waiting for a weather let up.
This guy was cute and smart and funny. I felt like I was cheating. But it was just talk. There were some cultural references that we discussed (David Cassidy and the Partridge Family), to where I got the comments, “who?” and “what?”. I finally had to ask how old he was. The answer was 27.
As Gark said to me the following day, “it’s official – you’re a daddy!”. Oy. Last year he told me I was a “bear”. I’m still not sure I’m believing that one. I’m not sure I can.
The rain didn’t let up – so I walked out into the street and caught a cab back to the hotel – never did end up having dinner. Unless you want to call beer, “dinner”. And why not? I havesoooo many times before. What’s one more meal?
As for the physical travel – four notices:
- Robert Novak did not hit me with his car. I would have made a much bigger stink.
- Cabs no longer put on the air, as it depletes the gas they have to buy at $4.59/gallon (which is what it is in DC). Not pretty.
- It’s very difficult to play Bejeweled when the plane has turbulence.
- I’m not sure if it was more unnerving for me or anyone on AirTrans that the guy across the aisle from me was reading the maintenance manual for AirTrans. We were on Continental. What did he know that he wasn’t going on the other airline?
Song by: Dar Williams