Monday, July 07, 2003
So, the freakin’ weekend.
There were only two bad things about my long weekend just passed: the insufferable heat (a bank marquee in Dupont Circle actually claimed it reached 100 on Saturday, and it certainly felt like it all weekend), and being pickpocketed in Union Station. I don’t know for certain that my wallet was stolen, but it’s very unlikely that it fell out of my pants, and it’s not like no one’s ever been pickpocketed in Union before. No credit cards, but a substantial loss of cash. But what can you do, y’know? [Besides henceforth carrying money in one’s front pocket, that is.]
My cousin and his wife were impeccable hosts. Their house, a rowhouse in NW which they’re renovating, is gorgeous – all hardwood floors and high ceilings. They’re a lot of fun to be around and absurdly intelligent. Unfortunately, Steve had to work most of the weekend, and my plans kept me running a bit, but I got to spend some time with him, and lots with his lovely wife. They even gave me a set of keys for the weekend. How cool is that?!
I rode the Metro by myself for the first time, which may seem minor if not laughable to residents of the District, but it was one of those little things about which I was ever-so-slightly proud (I didn’t get lost, either). I also took my first solo cab ride, and journeyed to the DC Eagle without accompaniment as well (and even talked with people! I have a really hard time doing that in bars, so that’s a little major). I’m slowly starting to piece the city’s (okay, NW’s) sections together, i.e. seeing where Adams Morgan fits next to Dupont Circle and U Street. Even knowing that DC’s laid out on a grid, it still gets confusing. But it’s getting a little easier; I’m learning.
Spent a very enjoyable couple of hours with Mike - a/k/a Stebbins – yesterday, having brunch at the bar/restaurant at Results in Adams Morgan (I kinda-sorta walked into a gym and did not spontaneously combust, amazing). Fine food (I recommend the four-egg omelet) and better conversation; this fellow can, it would appear, converse on any subject knowledgeably. He offered some very handy tips regarding finding a job in DC, as well. I’m very glad to have finally gotten to meet Mike, and am quite eager to catch my first Renegades match this fall (hello, Jimbo! - and I’m glad to hear [read] your throat’s feeling better).
Nearly literally ran into John on P Street Thursday night, whilst barhopping with Donald and Chrisafer. He joined as at DIK Bar for a tipple; unfortunately, by that point in the evening I’d already had a couple too many Jack-and-Cokes, so I’m not sure my conversation skills were at their most sterling (though I do remember hearing “Ignition Remix” – if you really want to see ‘fer snarl and gnash his teeth, just the mere mention of R. Kelly will do the trick). We chatted a bit about music, mostly, if memory serves (which it’s possible it may not, admittedly). Earlier that evening, we did the Tom-has-no-ID pub crawl, which also included stops at Mr. P’s (oy! Rather sad, and then there were the endless mid-‘80s R&B videos, which caused even ‘fer to be appalled by my too-much-for-my-own-good knowledge of said genre? Yeah, I know all the words to Alexander O’Neal’s “Fake” – doesn’t everyone?) and the Fireplace (which had icy-cool A/C, but said A/C kept dripping on my companions, unfortunately). Of course, my evening likely wasn’t helped by the fact that I was matching D-Lo and ‘fer drink for drink – neglecting to give the fact that I was downing Jack Daniels to their Rolling Rocks much thought. Later in the evening, I – oops – passed out. Fortunately, I was already lying down at the time.
And no, I did not take advantage of the Supreme Court’s ruling striking down sodomy laws (though DC repealed theirs years ago), but I did have a couple of dates I was very pleased with. I really like Donald – yes, I’m over the coyness and worried-that-I’ll-jinx-it-ness. My dates were with international supermodel Mr. artisforlosers himself. And he’s an outstanding kisser. I hope that things can progress; we’ll see what happens.
Saturday, met up with Corey and D-Lo to take in Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle, which was extremely insipid, and ridiculously entertaining. And Demi – oh! Stunning. Cor doesn’t realize how close I was to some straightification of my own. [Okay, maybe not, but it sounded good, right? No? Alright, then.] After parting ways with Donald for a few, Corey and I walked through Georgetown, with the Foggy Bottom Metro stop our destination. This gave us the opportunity to conversate – and for Cor to briefly take on ‘fer’s role of homosexual DC tour guide – which was lovely. We rode over to the Eagle, where we met back up with Donald and, eventually, Chrisafer, to play the jukebox (“Monkey Gone To Heaven”! “mOBSCENE”!) and enjoy cold alcohol and cold air.
What else? The train ride back last night was loooooong; we got in to Newport News over an hour late, oy. I love Amtrak nonetheless, though I wish they’d put a fucking smoking car/lounge on the DC-to-NN train. Now, likely no days off until Labor Day. Double oy. Am going to try to sneak back to the District for a quick 2-day trip next month with a coworker, but nothing extended until September starts (and which in all likelihood will be another 4-day-er around the aforementioned holiday). Sorry I’m going to miss your visit, Todd. Maybe we need to reinstate the patronage system, so that I could find someone to pay me to blog, and then I could travel more.
Well, it’s a thought, anyway.
Hope y’all had good weekends as well.
There were only two bad things about my long weekend just passed: the insufferable heat (a bank marquee in Dupont Circle actually claimed it reached 100 on Saturday, and it certainly felt like it all weekend), and being pickpocketed in Union Station. I don’t know for certain that my wallet was stolen, but it’s very unlikely that it fell out of my pants, and it’s not like no one’s ever been pickpocketed in Union before. No credit cards, but a substantial loss of cash. But what can you do, y’know? [Besides henceforth carrying money in one’s front pocket, that is.]
My cousin and his wife were impeccable hosts. Their house, a rowhouse in NW which they’re renovating, is gorgeous – all hardwood floors and high ceilings. They’re a lot of fun to be around and absurdly intelligent. Unfortunately, Steve had to work most of the weekend, and my plans kept me running a bit, but I got to spend some time with him, and lots with his lovely wife. They even gave me a set of keys for the weekend. How cool is that?!
I rode the Metro by myself for the first time, which may seem minor if not laughable to residents of the District, but it was one of those little things about which I was ever-so-slightly proud (I didn’t get lost, either). I also took my first solo cab ride, and journeyed to the DC Eagle without accompaniment as well (and even talked with people! I have a really hard time doing that in bars, so that’s a little major). I’m slowly starting to piece the city’s (okay, NW’s) sections together, i.e. seeing where Adams Morgan fits next to Dupont Circle and U Street. Even knowing that DC’s laid out on a grid, it still gets confusing. But it’s getting a little easier; I’m learning.
Spent a very enjoyable couple of hours with Mike - a/k/a Stebbins – yesterday, having brunch at the bar/restaurant at Results in Adams Morgan (I kinda-sorta walked into a gym and did not spontaneously combust, amazing). Fine food (I recommend the four-egg omelet) and better conversation; this fellow can, it would appear, converse on any subject knowledgeably. He offered some very handy tips regarding finding a job in DC, as well. I’m very glad to have finally gotten to meet Mike, and am quite eager to catch my first Renegades match this fall (hello, Jimbo! - and I’m glad to hear [read] your throat’s feeling better).
Nearly literally ran into John on P Street Thursday night, whilst barhopping with Donald and Chrisafer. He joined as at DIK Bar for a tipple; unfortunately, by that point in the evening I’d already had a couple too many Jack-and-Cokes, so I’m not sure my conversation skills were at their most sterling (though I do remember hearing “Ignition Remix” – if you really want to see ‘fer snarl and gnash his teeth, just the mere mention of R. Kelly will do the trick). We chatted a bit about music, mostly, if memory serves (which it’s possible it may not, admittedly). Earlier that evening, we did the Tom-has-no-ID pub crawl, which also included stops at Mr. P’s (oy! Rather sad, and then there were the endless mid-‘80s R&B videos, which caused even ‘fer to be appalled by my too-much-for-my-own-good knowledge of said genre? Yeah, I know all the words to Alexander O’Neal’s “Fake” – doesn’t everyone?) and the Fireplace (which had icy-cool A/C, but said A/C kept dripping on my companions, unfortunately). Of course, my evening likely wasn’t helped by the fact that I was matching D-Lo and ‘fer drink for drink – neglecting to give the fact that I was downing Jack Daniels to their Rolling Rocks much thought. Later in the evening, I – oops – passed out. Fortunately, I was already lying down at the time.
And no, I did not take advantage of the Supreme Court’s ruling striking down sodomy laws (though DC repealed theirs years ago), but I did have a couple of dates I was very pleased with. I really like Donald – yes, I’m over the coyness and worried-that-I’ll-jinx-it-ness. My dates were with international supermodel Mr. artisforlosers himself. And he’s an outstanding kisser. I hope that things can progress; we’ll see what happens.
Saturday, met up with Corey and D-Lo to take in Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle, which was extremely insipid, and ridiculously entertaining. And Demi – oh! Stunning. Cor doesn’t realize how close I was to some straightification of my own. [Okay, maybe not, but it sounded good, right? No? Alright, then.] After parting ways with Donald for a few, Corey and I walked through Georgetown, with the Foggy Bottom Metro stop our destination. This gave us the opportunity to conversate – and for Cor to briefly take on ‘fer’s role of homosexual DC tour guide – which was lovely. We rode over to the Eagle, where we met back up with Donald and, eventually, Chrisafer, to play the jukebox (“Monkey Gone To Heaven”! “mOBSCENE”!) and enjoy cold alcohol and cold air.
What else? The train ride back last night was loooooong; we got in to Newport News over an hour late, oy. I love Amtrak nonetheless, though I wish they’d put a fucking smoking car/lounge on the DC-to-NN train. Now, likely no days off until Labor Day. Double oy. Am going to try to sneak back to the District for a quick 2-day trip next month with a coworker, but nothing extended until September starts (and which in all likelihood will be another 4-day-er around the aforementioned holiday). Sorry I’m going to miss your visit, Todd. Maybe we need to reinstate the patronage system, so that I could find someone to pay me to blog, and then I could travel more.
Well, it’s a thought, anyway.
Hope y’all had good weekends as well.
# posted by Thomas : 10:52 AM
