Do We Dewey? Yes.

Dewey – v. laying in the sand, listening to the ocean waves, enjoying the convivial atmosphere, supping on everything, and encountering an eclectic group of beach goers.

After the past few weeks of weather that appeared to beckon for Noah to start constructing a new ark, and thinking the sun might have entered retirement, I was charmed to see the clouds part.  Some of my friends from high school and I paraded to the beach for a relaxing weekend.

We spent most of the weekend Deweying, overindulging in the food department.  On Saturday alone, we dined at Sharky’s Grill, Thrasher’s Fries, Candy Kitchen, the Purple Parrot Bar and Grill, Rita’s Water Ice, The Starboard, and Grottos Pizza.

In order to offset the caloric intake, we made it a priority to get some exercise.  To start off, we played an intense game of corn hole.  The teams: Brian and Sara versus Peter and Zotter. The outcome: Peter and Zotter won 21 – 16.  The breakdown: Brian scored 15 points, Sara scored 1.

In our next athletic competition, we worked up a sweat playing a round of putt-putt at Shell We Golf.  The discount: My friend Peter got to play for free because it was his birthday.  My friend Julie also got to play for free because the store clerk thought she was permanently handicapped since she was deceptively sporting the forearm crutch as opposed to the traditional underarm crutch. The results: Sara ended up in last place, even behind Julie, who played the entire course while using a flamingo-like stance and putting one-handed. The analysis: I should have chosen Julie to be my teammate at corn hole.

Overshare of the weekend: While enjoying the sun and the sand, a bedraggled and unkempt lady approached and showed us the cool sea shell she found.  Over the course of the next few minutes she proceeded to whinge about the cards she was dealt, while simultaneously pining for companionship.  I'm sorry, you definitely sunk that battleship. Unprovoked, she revealed that she recently went through a sticky divorce, in which she only asked for child support, not part of her husband’s pension.  In addition to the child support, she received disability benefits from her former employment accident.  Which is why she talks languidly, because she is constantly on tranquilizers; not narcotics, because she has had a history of addiction to those in the past.  She was also pro-choice until her first abortion, but the emotion distress swayed her to be pro-life.  The one thing she didn’t share was her name.  Anonymity is probably better anyway.  Next, she impinged on my personal space, and with a dollop of sunscreen in hand, muttering some phrase about her concern for me getting burned, proceeded to run sunscreen all over my chest. No. Oh, wait. Yes.

This is My America: Real Men of Genius

I have traveled around the country, biking and climbing, hitchhiking and hijacking, and have found a consortium of people I believe unambiguously represent the best of the best.  Actually, that’s somewhere between a truth and a lie; all three of these Americans can be found in the DC Metropolitan area.

Left turn man. While driving around the streets of Arlington, I came to a stoplight behind a blackberry colored Honda Fit.  Our light turned green, the Honda Fit edged it’s way into the middle of the intersection to make a left hand turn.  Once he began to turn, he now found himself looking up at the red light for the cars in the lanes perpendicular to our green light.  So he stopped.  I politely honked.  He motioned to the law of the land, the red light.  I swerved around him.  No sir.  You should not have been given a drivers license.

Wendy’s lady.  I rolled through the Wendy’s drive through to order a Spicy Chicken Sandwich and a Medium Fries.  The lady at the window informed me my total would be $5.72.  I noticed that the Chicken Sandwich value meal only costs $4.69, and it also includes a drink.  I then asked the lady if she would throw in a soda and knock a dollar off of my bill.  I’m sorry, we can’t do that. No ma’am.  Then I would like to scrap that order and start over again.

Good Friday man. While strolling the streets of Georgetown on Palm Sunday I passed by a Catholic Church service.  Mass had just ended, and the churchgoers were scattering into the streets with palms in hand.  I observe a son point to the churchgoers and question his father.  The father then informs his son that it’s simply Good Friday. No son, do not fall for that scullduggery. Good Friday always falls on a Friday, never on a Sunday.

Slow N Bouncy

Joining a kickball team sounded like the quintessential thing to do after college.  It’s the embodiment of the social and the collegial with a tinge of young professional.

Premise: Play a casual game of kickball each Tuesday evening on the Mall, between the White House and Washington Monument.  Then proceed to Penn Quarter Sports Tavern for a competitive game of flip cup.

Our Team:  The team was created by three nurses with the intent of it being a team for fellow nurses, brandishing the creative team name DC Nurses.  As it turns out, these three nurses were the only three nurses that wanted to participate, so they crusaded to field an army of kickballers.  That is how I landed myself a spot on this team; I happen to know Jay, who happens to know one of the nurses…or so I think.

Our First Week:  Collectively, our team’s kickball skills were underwhelming, and our team suffered an abysmal defeat.  There is a less than probable chance that we could have salvaged some of our dignity if there was a slaughter rule in effect.  Having checked our kickball skills at the door, I thought that flip cup might be our strong suit.  Wrong, I forgot that DC Nurses don’t sport suits.  We challenged our opponent until they got tired of winning.

Our Second Week:  Perhaps we brought an added intensity to the game in celebration of Cinco de Mayo, but in week two we avenged our loss*.  We ran up the score and cheered boisterously, so much so that the referee christened us relentless.  My friend Katie appropriately replied. “Sir, if you had seen us last week, you would understand” to which he replied “I did, we destroyed you last week.”

*Caveat: Our team was forced to forfeit because of regulations stating that a team is only eligible if there are at least four girls.  Our team had two.  Really? The team named DC Nurses couldn’t field more than two girls?