So I’m finishing up dinner at a rather swank and very popular restaurant in Georgetown last night, when one of the guys (this was a work-related event) in our group of eight guys asks me how far away I live. I respond by telling him Cleveland Park, and round out my reply by noting that I could actually “walk home from here.” Now this chap was a life-long resident of the area, and because he knew I grew up in Los Angeles, I could see that he was concerned that I wasn’t aware of just how far it would be from the eatery home. He asked how far I thought it was, and I boldly responded that I was certain it was no more than a mile-and-a-half.
At that point, he tried to suppress a laugh and repeated my answer in a tone that suggested he thought the distance was much greater. He said “listen…you’re from LA but I grew up in this area. If you’re going to walk up Wisconsin you’re going to have to go up the hill, then down, then back up again before it flattens out just before one last hill up to the Cathedral.” After that, he promised there was still about a mile to get to where I said I lived. He urged me to catch a cab…or at least to hop on a bus to ride part of the way up Wisconsin. I thanked him for his concern, but privately thought it was sad that someone that grew up in the area would know less about the surroundings than me.
So…at the end of the evening, just before 9pm, I gathered my raincoat and headed up Wisconsin through the heart of Georgetown. It was a charming evening, and the juxtaposition of holiday decorations and folks dining outdoors (it was 65 degrees on this December 15th night and very humid to boot) made for an almost magical atmosphere. As I walked up the Avenue amidst holiday laughter, clinking glasses and the hum of animated conversation, I remember thinking it odd that someone would suggest missing this charming short stroll and recommend opting for an antiseptic taxi ride instead.
That first hill up Wisconsin seemed longer than I recalled, but I remember welcoming the exercise after a day, ok a week, ok a month, ok…since about the Fourth, of eating as though I thought I’d need to hibernate for the coming winter. The buzz of seasonal revelry seemed to fade as I left the businesses of Georgetown and entered a quieter neighborhood. It seemed like I’d been walking forever, and I was disgusted that the earthquake construction still meant the lights were out at the Cathedral thus rendering the nearby spires unseen on the horizon ahead. As I started up a second hill, I saw a sign that read “Welcome to Maryland.” OK, that’s a lie, but after walking across what seemed like the entire District, that’s what the sign should have said. The sign actually said something about Grover Park I think…but after schlepping up an endless hill in what seemed like August humidity, I was a bit dehydrated and delirious at this point. I remember thinking it sad that my acquaintance back at the restaurant couldn’t have been more considerate by forcefully conveying just how far it was. I began looking for cabs, but all of them appeared to be heading down into Georgetown, not northward toward my destination.
After walking for over thirty minutes, and probably close to 2 miles, I finally saw the Cathedral spires. Thankfully, they appeared close enough to touch. Unthankfully, they were still about ¾ of a mile in the distance. As I quickened my pace towards Mass Ave, my clothes were soaked with perspiration. Thankfully though, my sweat soaked clothing was almost an afterthought compared to the ragging blisters forming on both of my feet. Just as a side note, if you decide to walk home across the freakin’ United States some evening, don’t wear black dress shoes.
Well, I finally arrived home well-after after 10pm, and while I was tired, soaked with sweat and though I sported several new large blisters, at least I was in a really bad mood. What’s the point of all this? Well, if you consider yourself a friend, and if you have special knowledge of an area you’ve lived in all your life, you have a duty to share that information with open minded folks that simply may not know the local geography as well as you. This is especially true if they are contemplating something akin to the Bataan Death March. If you do so, you just might save a friend from the unfortunate situation that I found myself in just last night.
Well, gotta go. I don’t have my car so I have to take the Metro into work. Thankfully, the temperature has plummeted during this writing, so while it won’t be a comfortable walk temperature wise, at least the rapidly approaching cold-front means the wind is now gusting about 40mph.
BTW...if you close your eyes for a few minutes before the insanity of the work day and listen to a seasonal song...you might just lower your heart beat. Close your eyes...just do it. It will only take 3:21seconds and if it doesn't work...I'll refund your money.
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