Excuse Me, Is That Your Blog?

I guess you could say that I get down on DC sometimes. I suppose I give off that vibe. But I love this city, I really do, and nothing makes me realize that as much as having out of town guests come to visit.

This past weekend, two of my buddies from Cleveland came down to hang out. Reluctant to do the "touristy" crap that is usually par for the course, we nonetheless ended up spending an eventful night in Adams Morgan and taking a good three or four mile walk around the city. (sidenote: Adams Morgan may be a wretched hive of fratboy scum and villainy, but there are a few gems to be found. Millie and Al's is fantastic, as long as you get there before the big rush. And a big shout-out goes to Marcus, the kick-ass bartender who poured us a free pitcher of High Life and free shots of Grand Marnier)

After recovering from Friday night and pondering the occurrences that likely will lead to our ban from Toledo Lounge (whatever, it sucks anyway), the guys from Cleveland decided they wanted an authentic DC lunch. So we went to Chipotle. In Dupont. The food was typical Chipotle, but the surroundings certainly made an impression on the out-of-towners. Eager for more culture, we departed the "restaurant" and took a walk. Turns out we ended up walking in a big square because I'm an idiot, but we saw some cool stuff, took some pics and eventually made our way to good ol' Abe and the rest of the monuments. Suffice it to say that this was by far my most fascinating trip to that area.

As we walked past the Great American Phallus, we heard an auctioneer-like voice mumbling gibberish punctuated by loud bursts of "JESUS" and "SALVATION." To our immediate left was some giant, bald emeffer with a bow tie rambling on about how everyone's gonna burn in hell as one of his lackeys (similarly buff and moronic-looking) accentuated baldy's preaching with more coherent sentences about eternal damnation. Here's a rough sketch of baldy:


So my buddy Josh, who was an altar boy for 15 years, walks by this dude and starts chuckling. Lackey #1 turns to him and says: "YOU'RE ONLY LAUGHING BECAUSE YOU'RE SO FULL OF SIN." Josh continues to laugh. "YOU WON'T BE LAUGHING WHILE YOU'RE BURNING IN HELL." Josh's laughter grows. "I HOPE YOU DIE ON YOUR WAY HOME!!!"

Seriously. This "Christian" preacher wished death on a group of upstanding young gentlemen strolling around the capital of the free world. Then and now, I am at a loss for words. Emboldened, we continued our trek onward to the Smithsonian Metro Station.

Everyone in DC knows that Smithsonian Station is the fucking worst. There are more fanny packs per capita there than anywhere else in the world. Upon entering the hornet's nest, we encountered not one but two families literally carrying babies in strollers down the broken escalator one step at a time, blocking everyone else, rather than using the fucking elevator. The sight of these delusional yokels, combined with the 99 degree heat, was enough to incite a murderous passive-aggressiveness in all three of us. You know it's bad when even the out-of-towners start squawking "EXCUSE ME" as they pass tourists on the escalator.

So all told, I feel like the Clevelanders got their money's worth. I'm a pretty goddamned fantastic tour guide, if I do say so myself. But even when you don't have guests, it never hurts to spend an afternoon every once in a while meandering around our glorious city taking in a few of your favorite things.