East Coast Tales

Washington DC. The land of taxation with no representation. The top of the pyramid of our national politics. The city of movers and shakers. The arena in which laws are made and torn down (or simply ignored). Some of the most powerful people in this country wield their influence in our nations capital daily, changing the lives of all those underneath them. And what did I do when faced with this greatness of power, this stadium of opportunity and change? I got drunk for 4 straight days. And it was great.

I've been going to DC about twice a year for 6 years now to visit my older, wiser (though not always), and more social brother. It's quite ironic actually if you had known us when we were younger. We hated each other, like sane people nationwide hate the president. Like oil and water, we could not even be in the same house with each other most of our lives when we were younger. Than a miracle happened. We grew the fuck up. Now, with 2,000 miles separating us we actually get along quite well for brief moments of time. 7 days is probably our maximum shelf life before we start to want to kill each other again. Another shift happened between us as we aged. I became more of a recluse and he became a social magnet. Being a bartender probably helps him in that regard. And I have to admit, he's a damn good one. Friendly, with the right dose of flirty, and can be imposing as hell if he needs to calm people down or throw drunk asses out.

So as we became friends I have made a bi-yearly...semi-annual...I never remember which one of those means twice a year...trip out to visit him. It's great. I get to play the role of little sister, getting spoiled and taken out to all the fantastic clubs and bars of DC while barely spending a dime. He gets to show me off, play the protector role, and revel in his popularity. I think it works nicely for both of us.

My most recent trip was last weekend, and while I won't bore you or embarrass anyone with the nitty gritty details, I should provide some sort of brief summary of the weekend for a historical record keeping prospective.

Flew in after work Thursday night and cabbed it straight to the Rock-n-Roll Hotel (bar). Watched a band called the Rosebuds, figured out the lingering question of whether or not my sometime hook up in DC was still valid (turns out it is), and closed out the bar around 3 with the staff. Headed to a friends house to continue the festivities until around 5 where my brother and I parted company and I got into things better left untyped. All in all, a pretty successful evening.

Friday, lounged around the day, hit up the Portrait Gallery with the brother - which was awesome. Went to a late late dinner, started at 9:30, that lasted till midnight. 5 courses, so rich I didn't want to think about food for days. Eventually ended up with two of his friends at DC9's Liberation party (the Friday night Brit pop dance party that is always dead when I'm there over thanksgiving) and it was hoppin'. Had a great time, danced my ass off in 3 inch heels. Again, a successful evening.

Saturday - the day from hell. Well the day was alright, don't think we did anything spectacular but then the night came. In case you ever wanted to know, hanging out with two cranky depressed men when you are trying to be on vacation is not fun. At all. In fact, it pretty much sucks and often will lead you to drink way more than is necessary. That drinking will then probably lead to you passing out as soon as you are within sight of a bed. To be fair (since they were incapable of making decisions) I ended up leading them into Georgetown, which from all apparent appearances is much like our own Lincoln Park....which I usually avoid like the plague and strongly discourage any visitors I have from entering. This may have heightened the bitchy factor emanating from at least one of them, but you know what if he didn't want to go he should have fucking said something before we got in the cab.

Sunday - the lost day. Spent all day trying to track down my missing brother. Ended up missing out on brunch (which is all I really wanted to do) and watching football all day (2 games was more than I have watched all season). The Patriots game while satisfying to see them win their 18th game in a row seemed like kind of a lame game. The Packer game on the other hand was way more interesting. Negative 24 degrees! And while I have never been a Packer fan regardless of my Wisconsin roots, it would have been nice to see Favre make it to a Superbowl before he's done. In football years, that guy is like a hundred, and I'm not sure how much time he has left on the field.

Monday - finally got a chance to talk about some stuff with my brother which was good but I wish we could of done it earlier. Headed to National airport around 1:30 and got back to the windy city around 4 pm.

So I've written this in bits and pieces at work so am completely unaware if it is coherent at all. Trying to read more than one or two paragraphs in the Blogger typing box is next to impossible. Overall the weekend can probably be counted as a success, though there are a few elements I would change if I ever finish building my time machine. And now that my liver is starting to heal, I am off to prepare for my housewarming. Cheers!