My kind of town

35 weeks down
18 weeks left
Kitchen is cleaned out and unpacked. Groceries purchased. Now if this week wasn’t Thanksgiving…sigh. Let’s just pretend I’ve lost nothing and I’m starting back at 0 pounds lost. Because honestly, I think I’m just about back there. Additionally…how did that even happen? Sigh.
About 9 months until the wedding

For the longest time, I marveled at people who had a love affair with New York City. I neither shared this love nor did I understand it. To the people who live and breathe New York, there is no other thing…no other place they would rather be, no other people they would rather be surrounded by than other New Yorkers. And New Yorkers are pretty vocal about defending the honor of this love (though not so much with a mere glove swat across the face as with a mean right hook.)

To those engaged in this tawdry love affair with NYC, there is something sexy about the anonymity of the millions of people there; something beautiful about the grittiness; something alluring about the hum of the city streets and the electricity of constant motion. And for those who, in the immortal words of Frank Sinatra, can make it there, well, you feel like you can make it anywhere. Because New York is the toughest of the tough—a badge of honor worn by those who can survive there unscathed. At least this is what they tell me. I’m not that guy so I don’t really know.

When I moved to Washington DC for the first time almost ten years ago, I was, quite frankly, petrified...and still a little wet behind the ol’ ears. I had grown up in a small town, living a sheltered life, surrounded by people I loved and trusted, at the end of a dirt road in the middle of a cornfield. The pace of Washington DC was insane to me. The people and the speed of life, a harsh reality for me to face.

To say that the first few months of time in DC was hard, is a vast understatement. I lived in poverty, walking everywhere because I couldn’t afford public transportation, eating apples and granola bars and microwave popcorn for sustenance, working a dead-end forty hour a week retail job, while I went to school at night. I rented a room in a house with a crazy lady (seriously…when I mentioned that I had been having bad dreams while sleeping in the attic of her home, she required that we engage in a white-sage burning ritual with the sage that was left over from the last time the Shaman blessed her home and exorcised the demon spirits. Yup. I moved out soon after.)

But slowly, surely, I began to grow into my time in DC. I wore my poverty and hard work like merit badges. I was doing it. Dammit. I was making it. I slowly found a better job; found better pay; got into a rhythm at school; made friends. By the time I got ready to leave three years later, I felt like I owned the city. I not only knew the roads, I knew the shortcuts. I not only knew the best touristy restaurants to frequent, but the mom and pop holes in the wall too. I knew when to drive where and how to avoid traffic. I had places that were mine. I had a sommelier a my local wine store who knew me by name, and recommended a new bottle that she knew would be to my liking every time I walked in the door. I had a jogging path and a coffee shop and a library card.

I had conquered DC. And until the end of my days, I will remember that feeling. The day that the city was not my foe, but rather my equal. The day we were no longer fighting each other, but were working in concert with one another—I may have just been a cog, but it certainly was a well-oiled machine. At the time, I likened my time there to a runner’s first marathon, knowingly signing up for it, secretly believing I simultaneously could and couldn’t do it, but not really knowing truly how far I could push myself until I hit the limit and came out on the other side stronger. I remember thinking at the time that *this* must be what all those crazy New Yorkers were wearing their “I heart NYC” shirts about. I get it. And I remember thinking I needed to go out and get myself an “I heart DC” shirt just to mock them.

When I left DC, I went on to other adventures. But when I did so, it was with a sense of accomplishment and pride and self-assurance. I had conquered Washington, DC. Whatever was next would be child’s play comparatively.

I have been back in DC now for a week. And in that week, I have rediscovered that sense of empowerment, the feeling that I can conquer the world. Maybe that’s not quite right. I don’t feel invincible and I’m not feeling self-important. But I guess being back here just makes me feel like I’m up to any challenge that’s put in front of me. I know it’s going to take effort and focus and hard work and patience. But being here just reminds me that I’ve got those things at my disposal when I need them, and that I can do whatever needs to be done.

Today was a beautiful fall day: mid-50’s and sunny and so warm. I found myself driving along the Potomac with my windows down: Arlington National Cemetery on one side of me, the splendor of DC on the other, and the Pentagon dead ahead. I dodged in and out of traffic with the ease of a local as I traversed my favorite routes to my favorite little grocery stops on a leisurely Sunday afternoon.

I felt free and alive and in charge of my life for the first time in so many months.

I know that there will be those of you, like I am with NYC, that will not understand my love affair with Washington DC. People say that it is corrupt (it can be) and it is hot (often) and it is built on a swamp (yes) and is filled with self-important politicians (also true.) But for all of that, there is also history and culture, music and art, families and friends and people trying really hard all day long to do good work. And there is so much natural beauty. In the immortal words of The Moldy Peaches (worst band name ever), l don’t know what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.

DC will always be my first love. My first real sense of accomplishment. My first real grown-up obstacle I ever truly faced and conquered. And to be back here now, after alllll that the last year has presented to me just seems right as rain. It’s not NYC. And forgive me Sammy Kahn, as I steal the lyrics you intended for Chicago…but DC truly is *my* kind of town. And I’m so so happy to be back.