and we're taking flight....

tom cruise famously raced jets in top gun on his rice rocket bike. cary grant ran from a biplane shooting at him in north by northwest. mike myers and dana carvey argued at the end of a runway in wayne's world. myself, i have a spot to go nearby that i can watch the planes take off and land with impunity. seems to me that it's awfully hard to get near a runway these days, and gravelly point at reagan national airport is a ready made park at the north end of the runway.

i've been there several times. first trip, cold weather, curled up on my crash pad in the bed of the danger ranger sharing a sleeping bag with her when we first started dating. we talked for what seemed like hours, alternately between serious and silly topics alike. before we knew it, the park was closed at 10, and i had to trek her back to vienna. or maybe just her car. we've been there since. on a nice long fall bike ride during the daytime. families picnicking. kids running around. flag footballers tossing the pigskin over the roar of DC-10s and 727s.

so for the first time in my revamped life in d.c., i found myself wondering as my flight took off, "what memories are being made below me right now? a new couple like we were getting to know one another? a couple of old, married folks? or just some teenagers looking for somewhere to ride their bikes or wreak havoc or be stupid without being hassled?"

under the influence

how appropriate a title for a snowsports movie! she and i have determined that the rough around the edges trinity of rock climbing, snowboarding, and surfing seem to have a pretty similar following. how so? watch any video highlighting these sports.

she and i went to a viewing of an backcountry skiing movie called under the influence on thursday. people watching galore. there was a distinct dichotomy among the ski bunnies and board bums. with the guys, it was easier to pick out the differences because womenfolk tend to dress better in d.c. regardless. skiers were preppier, on average. aside from a top-dollar jacket/fleece, the snowboarders were decidedly more like surfers and climbers. facial hair, unkempt hair, dirty jeans, beanies, ball caps. she commented to me, "that girl doesn't look like she's ever been on a mountain," as one tottered by in high heels and a cashmere sweater. "skier," i replied. ah ha!

"i've met snowboarders who used to be skiers, but never a skier who used to be a snowboarder," the emcee opens with. chuckles all around. then the video begins.

oddly, the movie focused on extreme skiers. i find the adjective extreme to be rather cliche these days, with everything from backyard wrestling to ironing getting that tag. i don't consider any of the trinity to be extreme, unless the participant makes it so. going to the top of 12,000 ft. peaks to ski down faces that are about 80 degrees vertical with a strong risk of causing an avalanche? yeah, i'd say that's extreme. that said, these guys were more like the trinity than the preppier ski lodge crew splitting the room. dreadlocks, loud colors, working only enough to support their skiing/snowboarding/climbing/surfing addiction...

under the influence indeed! if you're a disciple of one of the trinity, check out a video from one of the other three. myself, i've seen a few of each. climbing videos clearly resonate most with me because it's my passion. snowboarding would quickly become an obsession if i lived with real mountains and real snow. surfing, same deal if i were two blocks from the beach. what do you think?

oh, metro!

i love people watching. a short one from yesterday morning.

headed to foggy bottom, teething toddler screaming bloody murder. as soon as i get on the train, i'm making faces at this kid. he immediately stops crying, starts bouncing and giggling and chewing on his little bitty rattles and toys and such. kind of like growing up going to mass with mom, except i was a little less reserved since it wasn't a stodgy church.

five metro stops later, his parents say thank you, little guy waves goodbye, and i set out for my epic walking adventures.

we're going to a show....

saturday night, i headed into the district to the black cat. black cat is to d.c. what common grounds is to gainesville. that is, the music club for music lovers, or the indie/scene kids that are too cool to act like they enjoy the band on stage. feet glued to the floor. arms crossed. eyes fixated on the band. ears searching for deep meaning in the emo lyrics scratching through the speakers. movement is not tolerated.

i digress. as is the case on weekend nights, i typically get a good laugh from interactions between the cast of characters that hitch a ride on the orange line. saturday was no exception. first actor was a frat boy. khaki shorts, polo shirt mocking the abercrombie moose, rainbow sandals, southern mop of hair, gelled of course. his supporting apologetic friend was clad in plaid and those bright, ugly nikes that indie kids like so much. the actresses were two friendly-looking twentysomethings headed out, coincidentally, to U street also. the scene was a pretty much empty car leaving l'enfant plaza. the two guys were standing, trying to silently gain the attention of the seated ladies. my fly-on-the-wall position was one row behind the ladies. what started out as a fairly innocent conversation turned into an appalling lack of class on frat boy's part pretty quickly, "you know what i'm thinking about? you two naked. good things!" she caught my eyes as we both tried to suppress laughter...hers out of shock, mine in amusement at his tactless (and claimingly sober) approach.

when the train got to u street, we went in separate directions. i struck up a conversation with the ladies on our exit. they got a good laugh out of the encounter. one of them felt bad because it was her friend's first trip into the city, only to get hit on by a sketchball. i wished them a good evening and left wondering how often guys try too hard to connect with women on the metro. trying to be someone they're not. speaking differently. we've all got a lot more in common than it would appear on the surface...but i guess that's still how some frat boys see the world on the metro.

rocky mountain high

quick update from the rockies. my god, it's amazing out here. i just got back from two days climbing in rocky mountain national park. still snow on the ground. the parking lot's elevation was 9,475 feet. the crag was over 10,000. i climbed well on the first day, on granite no less. warmups were fun. first problem of the day was called autobot. apparently, it's a little less heady when you have snow below you filling up what is a tiger pit in the melted season. looks pretty sketch from pictures, but the long climb had a stunningly beautiful reward after the top out. it's now the wallpaper on my cellphone. we got rained on and hightailed it out of the park before i got any more good sends.

i'm feeling confident that if we return again next week before i leave, i'll knock off a pretty stout problem or two. yesterday's highlight was watching climbing. insanely strong climbers abound in this part of the country. i witnessed a climber fall one move short of a V14. what does that mean? world-class talent, folks. earlier in the day, another resident strong guy put down a V12. insane. i'm not quite there yet, but the attitude out here isn't one of grade chasing, more one of aesthetically pleasing, fun climbing. i'm all about that. catch you again when i get a chance. check for the pictures when i get back.

peace.

dr. hell yeah!

the backdrop, the national mall. [no, lee, there's no national food court or national gap or national fish emporium. that wasn't an original thought, nor was it funny.] behind me, the sunset skies backlighting the washington monument. to my right, the rising moon. in front of me, the lights illuminating the capitol dome. above me, crystal clear night skies. around me, thousands of movie lovers waiting patiently for this year's screen on the green opening night.

the opening music for hbo, who sponsors this yearly summer cinematic spectacle, compels the regulars to dance wildly. by dance, i mean jump maniacally and swing your arms skyward, like those demented ten foot tall inflatable people more often seen at car dealerships that take after edvard munsch's the scream more than actual people. the cheers fade, and tweety and sylvester battle in a quick merrie melodies short. i think this is regular, for last year when i saw casablanca at the end of the summer, that putty tat and tweety were featured also. we'll see as the season progresses. then finally, our feature presentation.

bond, james bond in the first of the series, dr. no.

"hi, my name is ben, and i am (mostly) a james bond virgin." that's right, ladies and gents, bond week on tnt was always during finals week, so i never got to enjoy the flicks in their entirety. this time around, i now know where the spy movie franchise started. i finally saw all the inspiration for the austin powers jokes. sure, i knew that was the origin intuitively, but it's different to see the scenes firsthand, finally! loved the movie. the rest of the bond franchise (at least the connery years) are going on the netflix queue as soon as i post this.

a late night dash to catch the last orange line train out of the city, and a good nights' sleep later, i'm off to plot my next screen on the green outing. will it be arsenic and old lace on july 28th, the apartment on august 4th, or superman on august 11th? one thing's certain: i sure hope i get to see all three!

metro people watching

i've taken to reading more often while waiting around at metro stations and other public-type places. lots of locals do it; when in rome...

anyhow, that brought me to my people watching today. as the blue line pulled up at rosslyn today, i shut my book. (i'm rarely blessed with the ability to read in moving vehicles. if i get a seat, sometimes. reading a book is easier than reading the paper.) as the horde stirred with the trains arrival, i caught a young 20-something sneaking a glance at my book choice. she quickly averted her eyes and resumed reading her book, which happened to be one i read in the fall, ecology of a cracker childhood. i wonder what went through her head. i wonder what goes through everyone's head, especially the readers, as they take stock of what their fellow riders are reading at the station or on the train. "hey, i read that." "hmm, she's really into that book." "she clearly bought that at the checkout line." "he's cute and smart. how should i get his attention?"

i discovered this week on the train that there are several types of people during rush hour. presuming there are very few tourists at this time of day, i'll say that they all work in the city. first are the readers. magazines, books, newspapers, work papers. there's the sleepers. these folks just plain pass out as soon as they're on the train. they wake up at the terminus of the line, look around confused, and stumble out of the station. folks like these are pretty common early in the morning too; those are a different breed though. they worked the night shift and ride the train because it's air conditioned and no one bothers them. somehow, they manage to get off at the right stop too. there's the texters, who don't let their thumbs rest at all. this is the common species of the breed. the more ubiquitous (at least in this city) are the blackberry addicts. their eyes forever scanning their inbox, their smartphone never makes it to the hip holster for the hour commute. the zoned-out ipod junkies tune out the rest of the world, bobbing their heads and staring at the screen. those are the most obvious.

all others seem to nervously watch each station and each person as if they're on a train with degenerates and miscreants. very rarely do i see people interacting with one another. eastbound trains tend to have more of this. of all the random strangers that i've talked to on the train, they've all been super nice and very few of them have been anything like me.

it's been a while. damn, i love this city!

crash bam boom

weather conspired to keep her away from the beach for much of this weekend. mom's rain gauge said about four inches over the last two days. this morning, we got lucky. up and out by 9:30, we got a picture perfect beach excursion. blue skies, small crowds, hot sand, warm surf.

early on, little kids running around. no screamers, just cute ones toddling about. a toe-headed girl that was the spitting image of her mother. actually, she looked a lot like the coppertone girl, bare butt and all! two year-old boy wandering up the beach to the parking meters with his dad's hat on, oversized kids' clothes, gait like a fawn on new legs. independent little fella was captured after a walking up the dune and negotiating unsuccessfully with dad to amble down the road. a mother teaching her early elementary daughter how to dog paddle in the surf. me wondering if i'd either recognize any of these young moms as classmates, or if they'd know me.

as the morning shifted to afternoon, the teenagers, stumbling out of bed, looking angst-ridden and hungover showed up and flopped down, promptly asleep in the sand. right about the shift change occurred, the clouds started to roll in. she and i made it back to my parents' just in time for the afternoon rains to start anew. perfect time to pop in a dvd and fall asleep on the couch.

here i sit, her back in virginia, me still awake, my equilibrium still bobbing in the surf, my soul sated from the calming waters of the atlantic. how i missed them so!

tourist times in the new town

it's hard for me to believe sometimes that people actually want to come to the district on their vacations. i'm so far removed from the tourist culture of south florida that i forget people go on vacations and might randomly choose where i live. someday, i'll figure out how to avoid the maddening crowds when they do come. as yet, i'm not that lucky. a lot of my exploring, adventurous nature manifests in the very things that tourists want to see.

case in point numero uno. two and half years ago, a friend had an internship at a vet clinic in the district. i'm doing the legit tourist thing with his girlfriend while he's working. it's triple digits outside, even our floridian bodies were screaming for a/c. smithsonian museums are free, let's go there! air and space: comfortable, but crazily crowded. sidenote, woman wearing all black from head-to-toe passes out on steps in front of us. bad omen.

case in point numero dos through cien. weekend. nice weather. national mall. memorials. smithsonians. fuhgettaboutit!

today. previous cases in point. add cherry blossoms to the mix and ninety-nine out of a hundred of these tourists is ansel adams in disguise. [full disclosure: yes, i'm in that 99, but i was trying to avoid the cliche shots of out-of-focus monuments in the background with blossoms in the foreground and 27 unrecognizable people screwing up the shot.] makes me want to play hooky from work this week to go take picures. perhaps some day after work to try to get cool pictures with a sunset in the mix. i'm mildly disappointed with my addition the the glut of cherry blossom pictures that will soon be flooding the web. you'll see mine, but my camera's eye and mine don't often agree. an upgrade is needed.

coat culture

a coat conveys much about its wearer. in my people watching of late, i've noticed a lot about people by they way they carry themselves, how they interact with diversity, and how they react to life. more often than not, these distinctions translate to their choice of outerwear as well.

what got me on this thought process? this weekend walking around western pennsylvania. it was cold. there was snow. my two jacket choices. mountain hardwear down jacket. mammut laser softshell. i felt the out-of-line-of-sight stares with them in the mostly carhartt or other chore coat outerwear. i do own a carhartt jacket. i love my carhartt jacket. it's tough. it doesn't show dirt. it will last for many years. i bought it in my pre-climber days, back when i was more likely to have calluses from swinging my hammer than from climbing a boulder. hard-working and loyal, these are your friends that will help you build something or move, no questions asked. their trucks are used well and don't have leather seats.

north face coats are ubiquitous these days. the wearer doesn't convey much information with this choice in outerwear. clean-shaven, designer jeans, low profile kicks translates into the coat being little more than an accessory, with the denali fleece being preferred for its large number of color choices. stubble, beanie, scraggly hair translates into the coat being a good deal. it's probably dark colored because we outdoor types don't like washing our fleeces or other jackets. the anomaly in these characterizations falls with the weekend snowboarders because you never know what they're going to look like in the real world. a quote unquote better outdoor brand tends to translate into someone i might run into at the climbing gym or in the woods or on the slopes. i'd guess that 90% of the outdoor brand wearing people on m street in georgetown are in fact poseurs, and not nearly as laid back and fun as the outlying 10% i want belaying while i'm on the sharp end or helping me out on the mountain.

the last person characterized is the proper overcoat wearer. this person must look nice and act gentlemanly/ladylike. while i tend towards the previous two, when wearing my pea coat, i carry myself differently. does this make me a poseur? in a sense, but mainly because i don't want to screw up my irreplaceable hand-me-down coat. it's hard to figure out the men in this category based purely on their coat though. i need to dig deeper. as most of my observations have been on the metro, i can't take note of their zip code or set of wheels. the matching scarf or gloves translate into a less-than-patient attitude with those around him. reluctance to standing/sitting because of an idiosyncratic hypochondria. the guy that sticks out most in my mind in this regard had the burberry overcoat with the collar turned up (just to show the plaid) and the matching scarf. even with gloves on he seemed annoyed to have to hold on while the train was in motion and looked with turned nose at anyone who entered his personal space on the full train at rush hour. the characteristic that turns this class on their head is the messenger bag. more indicative of the outdoor coat active young person than the snooty burberry set, the messenger bag links these categories together.

i wonder which shifting categories these familiar strangers travel between. how many of the overcoat set drive beat up pickups or climb rocks like me?

ESP

i never knew i had esp. i've got espn, the deuce, espn classic and espnU, but no esp.

mid-'80s toyota camry, more rust than paint. probably over 200K miles. distracted moron behind the wheel. see it?

driver pulls too far into the intersection. light turns red. instead of going, driver backs up to the turn lane. me, i'm fine. no worries, he's got plenty of room.

looking through his rear window, i see the glint of a cell phone glued to his ear in the rearview mirror. reverse lights still on. raise your hand if you've ever had someone do this in front of you. that many?

can you tell where this is going? my hand shifts to the horn, knowing full well what's going to happen when the light turns green.

green. zoom. honk. skid. shift. zoom in correct direction.

moron.

people watching redux

leaving georgetown on friday night, i was transported back to college and what a normal night was downtown or on the strip in the 'ville.

one, near the end of m street where it merges into pennsylvania. two guys had been kicked out of a bar, or they'd left a bar, and they were not happy with each other. one guy, screaming obscenities at the other, "i'll f'ing kill you. i. will. end. your. life." and other such threats. his girlfriend (presumably) pushing him away, "seriously? listen to yourself. seriously?" her eyes saying something far different. more along the lines of, "i'm really getting tired of this nonsense. every night he drinks, same old..." other guy involved being restrained by his friends, pinned against a storefront, goading mr. death threat, "come on then. bring it!" this guy could barely stand up on his own. two frat boys mad about politics, a spilled $9 drink, or scuffed pumas. strolling past through the gathered throng of onlookers, most mocking them and watching with amusement.

two, crossed the street, sitting on a windowsill, a couple playing tonsil hockey steps from the four seasons. they needed a room. it was a little too cold for that nonsense.

three, drunken couple on the metro. she, glazed eyes and a vacant stare. she looked like she was going to chum. he, passed out against the window. five bucks said they missed their metro stop. i sure hope they hadn't just met. they got off, then got back on. wrong stop. she fell on the floor trying to sit back down. he had quite a time helping her totter back onto her four inch stilettos.

i miss college shenanigans people watching. (not really.)

train wreck

oh, how it made me laugh! no, it wasn't a real train wreck. clowe and i were witness to what was definitely a first date, possibly also a blind date or a match.com disaster. we were eating at a restaurant in chinatown yesterday. the place was pretty much empty. behind us there was a chinese couple, getting along very well. smack in front of us was a train wreck. some tips i gleaned from eavesdropping (yes, i know i should've minded my own business, but he was rather loud and hard to ignore. like bond week on TBS during finals week).

1. stop and breathe. when you talk too much, you're not listening at all. at that point, the other person on the date loses interest because you're only interested in talking about yourself. this guy barely paused to let his date talk, and immediately jumped in as soon as she finished speaking. isn't the point of a date to decide if you like this person sitting across from you? wouldn't letting her speak often show your interest more than yammering about every job you've ever had, and stuttering when you finally do ask her a question about what she does?
2. pay attention. if your date tells you she's a vegetarian after you've ordered, don't launch into a story about how you and your buddies used to go to golden corral to study in college. (for the uninitiated, golden corral is to steakhouses what ramen noodles are to asian cuisine). it's been my experience that this tends to turn most vegetarians off. they're ok with meat-eaters, just so long as they don't have to hear all about it.
3. manners. elbows off the table, napkin in your lap. basics, right? let's take it one step further. if/when your food comes out first, DO NOT begin eating before your date's arrives. i teach this to my second graders, how did a military officer miss that bit of etiquette from his mama in west texas or elsewhere?
4. restraint. just as you wouldn't get rip-roaring drunk on a first date (or any for that matter), don't gorge yourself with food either. i know i've been guilty of this one before, but i'm learning. however, when a heaping plate of food comes out, i've never loudly proclaimed, "wow! that's a lot of food...and i'm going to eat every last bit of it!" (remember, that date's food had not yet come out). a wing-eating contest might be attractive to some, but gluttony is not one of the seven deadly sins that i generally look for in a mate! save some for later, take it to go (usually poor form), and give it to the first hungry person that asks for it. that should score some brownie points. worked on me...

i don't mean this to be an exhaustive list by any means. just humorous. lord knows i'm not any sort of dating guru! as pop told me recently, you don't ever really want to get "good" at dating. the ultimate goal is to stop dating, right?

drag racin'

no, motorheads. not what you think. last night was the annual dupont circle high heel drag race. yes, you heard correctly. drag queens. in high heels. sprinting down 17th street nw. well, some of them anyhow. there aren't any videos up on youtube yet from last night, but here's one from last year.



an accepting neighborhood. guys complementing ladies on their straight boyfriends. ladies complementing guys on their gay boyfriends. open praise of how "fabulous" the queens looked.

man, i love this city!

people watching deux

everyone rides the metro. western suburbs, all the white kids ride it into the city to party like a rock star. eastern suburbs, it's the only way some people get around. i got to ride the orange line all the way through the city this weekend. what a demographic shift as you go from west to east and back again. cases in point:


1) friday night, short trek for me to georgetown to some high-fallutin' riverfront bar/restaurant. white kid. white boy 'fro. khakis. pink lacoste shirt, popped collar. boat shoes. in his whitest, loudest voice, he's telling about some night where he was presumably out of his element, talking about the music they were playing, "so, i'm the only one in there that knew all the words. i mean, they're playing eminem, c'mon!" no one else apparently knew the words, but he added, "if it would've been fifty cent (yes, he annunciated every phoneme, quite unlike curtis jackson and the rest of g-unit), they would've been like, 'in da club....'" at this point, everyone around me is laughing at him under our breath. the guy behind me is muttering under his breath all kinds of insults about how utterly oblivious he was to the people that were around him.

2) my first experience with a positively insane metro rider. saturday, after the debacle of a football game, i'm back on the orange line headed west. car's pretty much empty. this guy stumbles on, sits down, and immediately starts babbling incoherently. after about 5 minutes, he starts trying to get everyone else's attention in our car. at this point, that consisted of a black couple many rows from him and me, seated across the aisle from him. when i realize he's talking to me, i turn. he proceeds to tell me that president bush was killed by the space shuttle. "really? i hadn't heard that." through the rest of his babbling, i figure out that he wanted directions because he doesn't live in the city (why do people always ask me for directions? that's fodder for another blog though). i only understood about every fifth word he uttered in his drunken cajun-english slurring. when he got off at l'enfant plaza, i figured out why. drunk as a skunk. i wonder if he made it.

city life is never dull.

people watching

life in this city hasn't failed me in interesting stories. some sad, some hilarious...well, at least to me because i witnessed them.

story one. last week, michele invites me to fuddruckers in chinatown. this is thursday night, i'm on my way home stupid late because i had a workshop in suburban hell, my truck rolling on fumes. i get home at 8:30, turn promptly around and head to the metro. i know that i'm in for an hour ride in, hour out. best case, one drink at rocket bar in chinatown, turn around, come home. at least i'm not staring at my walls. i call her on my way to make sure she's still there. no answer. i get on the train anyway. (can you tell where this one's headed?) an hour later, on H Street in front of the verizon center, i call again.

"hey michele. where are you?"
"home," she nervously replies, "where are you?"
"you suck! you'd better pick me up from ballston in an hour when i get back to arlington," i jest.

she did. she felt really bad about me going and our crossed lines of communication. drunken kickball players you could smell from 30 feet away bragging about all kinds crazy things they wish they'd done. debating the merits of certain acts. at least i got a good laugh out of it.

story two. saturday night. capitol hill with mary pam, wyn, and meredith. sitting at a table at hawk and dove, drinking a pint when some douchebag barback decides he's going to take our table from us. let me repeat that.

he took our table from us. yes, while we were sitting there. drinking. paying.

i'm laughing so hard tears are welling up in my eyes at how clueless this guy is. meredith and mary pam take it upon themselves to go retrieve said table. said douchebag barback and someone actually dumber than him start yelling at mp & meredith. i go from amused to pissed, punch them both in the throat, smash my pint glass on their gasping faces, and leave with the crew. okay, so that's not entirely true, but most of it is...