Before some quick thoughts on our nation's capitol, I've got to shout-out Lloy Ball, who I somehow failed to mention in my last post, which is rather astonishing as he was in fact the impetus for my discussion of favorite Olympians. During one of the matches I swear the color commentator made reference to Ball being a used car salesman before joining the national team, which just makes him that much more endearing in my estimation. I can't find any corroborating evidence to back this up, but he does have a tattoo that says "anger is a gift." Whether it is a homage to one of my all-time favorite bands or not, I'm not sure, but I'll just go ahead and say it is.
Since I couldn't find any photo I felt truly captured Ball's grittiness, I opted for this one because a) it looks like David Lee has a volleyball for a head and, more importantly b) Lloy's jersey says "1 Ball."
So I spent the extended weekend in the District of Columbia for what I will call my first "real" visit. I'd gone once on a high school field trip, and another time about six years ago, but on neither occasion did I stay overnight, nor did I even take the metro. I'm not sure if it (the metro) has this effect on other new visitors to the city, but I certainly felt like I had stumbled into the future, or at least an 80s movie set representation of the future (I'm thinking Total Recall). I'm a metro amateur however, with only New York and Boston as reference, but I'll go with DC completely dominating them.
It's also always interesting, for me at least, to see the style of the people in a city. DC seemed to have a healthy dose of pink polo and khaki shorts, and that was not only out in Georgetown. I also managed to have pleasant interactions with all of the locals I encountered, perhaps the most pleasant of which was with a homeless man in the metro. Still, I admit to being slightly scared in certain neighborhoods when houses looked a little more rundown and people were staring at me a bit, but I expected it after all the stories I have heard, and I didn't manage to make it to the more depressing neighborhoods.
Perhaps the most hilarious and simultaneously borderline frightening interaction I witnessed was a man stopping dead in his tracks on the sidewalk to heavily ogle a woman, literally dropping his jaw - though not enough to let his cigarette drop - and saying "mmm, mmm, goddamn!" In the moment I didn't think much of it, as I'm sure the average DC-er might not either, but looking back I really don't know how many times I've witnessed anything quite like it.
Quickly then, as I'm a bit of an ice cream fanatic, I decided to drop in at a Maggie Moo's. I'd never been in one, or heard of one for that matter I don't think, but I can't be entirely sure. Immediately upon entering I thought, "It's Coldstone with a different color scheme." After eating it, my conclusion changes little. Like Coldstone I found the ice cream overly sweet and heinously over-priced but so it goes. The saddest bit might be that I fully expect I will eat at one or both establishments in the future. So much for standing ground.
Anyway, that's my brief and boring summation of the nation's c[r]apitol. Shout out to "Foggy Bottom" as a nominee for most amusing neighborhood name.
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