Into Washington
Day 1.Feb.21
Washington is a city of powerful buildings and powerful people and the streets themselves breath politics and importance. The city moves, the streets and subway lines its veins and arteries and the people its maleable substance, driven by the pounding wardrum heartbeat of the American workday, which never begins nor ends in this town. Coming into Reagan International I was able to take the Metro directly from the airport to Veronica's apartment. I'd forgotten how deep the Metro system actually goes and was taken aback by the giant escalator that greeted me on the way back up to the street. I threw my bags over my shoulders and walked in the drizzle to my aunt's place. This is how I imagine DC. Rainy, cold, serious. A place for the coldblooded and the cutthroat, powerful people, presidents, executives, spies. Things happen here. Decisions are made here that carve the rest of the world.
I'd barely walked in the door when the phone rang. Veronica had left me a list of notes. I skipped down to the bottom where it said Have fun and left it at that. Bill was on the phone, one of Veronica's neighbors. He was wondering if I'd like to join him and his partner Eric for dinner. I was tired but agreed anyway. The three of us walked over to a Thai restaurant that had space theme which did make sense. But the food was good. Bill works as a criminal lawyer for the Deptartment of Justice and had just gotten home from Lithuania. Eric works for World Bank, specializing in sustainable energy development in Central America, and he shared stories of Mexico and Guatemala. Desert was sticky rice, mango and tea. We talked about travel, different cities, weather, school. Eric talked about the old days in DC when things weren't so locked down and the drinking age was eighteen.
All I wanted to do was sleep.
Washington is a city of powerful buildings and powerful people and the streets themselves breath politics and importance. The city moves, the streets and subway lines its veins and arteries and the people its maleable substance, driven by the pounding wardrum heartbeat of the American workday, which never begins nor ends in this town. Coming into Reagan International I was able to take the Metro directly from the airport to Veronica's apartment. I'd forgotten how deep the Metro system actually goes and was taken aback by the giant escalator that greeted me on the way back up to the street. I threw my bags over my shoulders and walked in the drizzle to my aunt's place. This is how I imagine DC. Rainy, cold, serious. A place for the coldblooded and the cutthroat, powerful people, presidents, executives, spies. Things happen here. Decisions are made here that carve the rest of the world.
I'd barely walked in the door when the phone rang. Veronica had left me a list of notes. I skipped down to the bottom where it said Have fun and left it at that. Bill was on the phone, one of Veronica's neighbors. He was wondering if I'd like to join him and his partner Eric for dinner. I was tired but agreed anyway. The three of us walked over to a Thai restaurant that had space theme which did make sense. But the food was good. Bill works as a criminal lawyer for the Deptartment of Justice and had just gotten home from Lithuania. Eric works for World Bank, specializing in sustainable energy development in Central America, and he shared stories of Mexico and Guatemala. Desert was sticky rice, mango and tea. We talked about travel, different cities, weather, school. Eric talked about the old days in DC when things weren't so locked down and the drinking age was eighteen.
All I wanted to do was sleep.
posted by James at 4:09 PM
2 Books were burned:
Thanks for linking me, Junior! I linked you back.
junior?
Throw one on the pile
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