Into the Wild

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I recieved a phone call last night that the photoshoot was on and that I should come into the city for some drinks with th documentarian, an old friend of mine who was staying at the Hotel Palomador in Rossalyn. "This is what I expected D.C. to look like." I said to my boyfriend, Jon. Tall glass buildings side by side that mirrored the star chunked sky packing the streets with deep blues and amber moon light. It felt like a city then. It made me believe in the place a little more and eased my previous prejudices to it because this setting was familiar reguardless if I had ever been there. Before, D.C. had been this strange tourist land where I couldn't even concieve anybody actually living there, for one because it didn't look lived in and the other because it was not (to me) a city anyone could fall in love with. Aside from the obvious, such as the sports culture and the theater, locals of Boston can fall in love with sitting by the Charles River to read, the infuriating insanity of the drivers, trade mark Dunkin Donuts coffee, the attitude, the work ethic. Locals from Philly can fall in love with the stone work and hipness of Chestnut Hill, Mama's Pizzeria, the local music scene. This is what I needed to see. I needed to see some sort of romantic personalization going on. I needed a favorite spot, things to love and things to hate. Jon smiled at my suprise that I might be beginning to think of this place as a potential candidate for me to live. I have been looking to move from Savannah to where work will be easier to find.
I digress. We entered the Polomador and went in to the lounge to wait for Adam. Stunned, we walked out onto the patio which cut the building in half and was set on the fourth floor between the two halves overlooking the city. I stood frozen, speechless at the balustrade. I had just been rocked. Pretty swank and it was inconcievable to me that Adam found a room here for $75/ night, a block away from the metro station.
When Adam arrived we hopped on the metro to Adams Morgan to meet Amelia, another art schooler we were close with in college. In Adams Morgan, I was even more taken aback at how hip this city could be. I really have to check my first impression judgements at the door, because Adams Morgan was quirky, lively, full of little knick knacks of places that were as random as they were perfect. LIve music poured into the streets from every bar and coffee shop, Ethiopian resteraunts neighbored Japanese steak houses, who neighbored late night empanada stands, it was what I was looking for this whole time! Outside seating, balconies, people standing talking in the streets, parked cars! It was fantastic and we sat in the coffee shop Tryst where Amelia works to listen to a bluesy, jazz band and drink and talk by candle light. We went to Madams next door where I felt like I was in a cross between a hunting room and a pirate's ship, which made it unclear what sort crowd they were aiming to bring in there but everyone seemed to feel at ease that it wasn't them. We even felt a little bad ass for exploring this seedy bar with its insane variety of animal skin and antique objects for wall decor while the beautiful blonde bartender served up PBRs and Jameson indifferently while the loud, soggy bottom band played to the crowd. We spent the rest of our night before heading back on the last train of the metro at the early hour of 11:30, out on the wooden porch that protruded crookedly from the front of the building.
It had been a beautiful night. As Jon and I sat with our feet up smoking out on his back porch, I told him the chances of me including this place in my list options for the future are getting better and better as I see more of it.

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Photos

Mi Arbolita De Deseo
Yoko Ono installation wish tree in the National Sculpture Gardens

It Happened One Night
A beautiful moon shone over Springfield, VA.

My Prince
I found him.

Lobster Claws
A plant with claws?!