ROADS?!? WHERE WE’RE GOING, WE DON’T NEED ROADS! .... (but the Metro helps)

Hello family, friends, colleagues, fellow Washingtonians, and all those who lie in-between. As I sit here, sinking ever deeper and deeper into an armchair like quicksand, all I can think about is the blur of experiences that have smeared across my over-exerted consciousness. Life out here is everything, and nothing I expected it to be. The city life, the chaos, the excitement: all exactly as I imagined it to be. The exhaustion, the workload, the money burning up with every step I take into a Metro station: surprising, to say the least. Currently, these experiences mean little as a whole. Individually, however, they serve as windows; as snapshot glimpses of the new me; one slowly embracing life beyond the collegiate routine I’ve become so accustomed to. So journey with me (if you dare) into the very heart and soul of my D.C. experience. Grab a drink, pull up a chair and hold your judgment until the end (where you can feel free to show some hate/love in the comment box below); cause it’s time for some stories… and as anyone who knows me will tell you: I love to tell me some good stories.

FORTUNE AND GLORY, KID. FORTUNE AND GLORY… (among other things)

If coming to D.C. has taught me one thing so far, it’s that opportunity lies around every corner; you just got to be willing to pounce on it like a half-starved Grizzly Bear (and I don’t just mean employment). You like food; get ready to jump a couple pants sizes while you’re out here. You like nightlife; there are enough bars and clubs to make even the most jaded party animal look like a tame little kitten. How about museums and galleries? As BTO said: “B-b-b-b-baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” Oh, and don’t forget the monuments and other icons that make you wanna scream “AMERRRIICCCAAA……..,” well, you know the rest (those of you that enjoy Team America as much as I do). Simply put, there’s more schtick than you can shake a schtick at, you dig? Fortune-atly (like that pun don’t you eh?) I have the distinct pleasure of taking my time in my adventures, and bringing you piecemeal tidbits of everything D.C. has to offer. I’ll begin with food. While I haven’t exactly had the most robust experience in the food department yet, I have had one standout experience that made me forget what I considered “barbecue” before it.

This delectable little piece of heaven is called Capital Q’s Barbecue, and let’s just say that it takes the cake (or brisket) when it comes to quality, hole-in-the-wall barbecue. Exiting the Gallery-Chinatown Metro station, you’d barely notice the little shop sitting kitty-corner to where you’re standing unless you knew where you were going. Fortunately for me and my roommate/fellow Iowan, we had the astute guidance of both foodnetwork.com and Google Maps to aide us in our most-excellent quest. Walking in, I had a mixture of extremely high and extremely low expectations. Fortunately, the scent of barbecue ecstasy doped my brain into a state of pure euphoria, accentuated by inklings of the pre-itus (look it up kids: itus is to barbecue as the Pope is to Catholicism… get educated). The only thing that semi-buzz-killed my inevitable barbecue coma was the menu pricing. But, believe you me, coming from someone who is very picky about price-per-quality when it comes to food; I have never been so satisfied with delectable, sauce-lathered meats. Simply put, it was other-worldly. God himself could not make better barbecue. They always say that everything is better in Texas, and for once I might actually have to agree. Leaving Capital Q after such a ridiculous meal was mixed with a little love and hate. Love at the discovery of my new favorite restaurant; hate, nay, cursing at Zeus himself  for the torture of making me wait until next time to savor such treats again.

SHE WILL BE MINE. OH YES - SHE WILL BE MINE … (the city, that is … duh)

Now, for all of you who’ve made it this far, congratulations! You can officially stomach my writing! But alas, I can’t always be so candid and debonair all the time (cue the sighs and groans). Now, to move onto a little more serious subject… my internship. For starters, I work at the Trust for the National Mall. For those of you who don’t know what we do, we are in charge of keeping the National Mall (our nation’s front yard) spic-and-span. The Trust for the National Mall is the official non-profit partner of the National Park Service dedicated to restoring and improving the National Mall. Simply put, our goal is to make the National Mall the best park in the world (directly quoted from our website). However, such a feat is no easy task. The mall is in a severe state of disrepair. The tons of visitors to the mall every year surely take their toll. The grass is fading, retention walls are sinking, pathways are near-unusable, and much… much more. It is with all of this in mind that I stepped into the Trust’s offices on my first day of work, with the hopes of meaningfully contributing to the Trust’s ever-increasing responsibility. But, despite the doom-and-gloom surrounding the physical state of the National Mall, the staff was anything but downtrodden. In fact, I’d be willing to argue that they were possibly the most upbeat, encouraging, and motivated staff that I have ever seen. Everyone was more than happy not only explain their mission, but to also explain to me where I (as one of the resident interns) would fit into their vast and ambitious plan. As the week progressed, I was sequentially introduced to all of the core facets of the Trust’s operation; honing both technical and interpersonal skills to foster a sense of identity within the office. For being such a young organization, the Trust has a lot of heart: like a young boxer eager to take the championship belt. I can’t help but gawk at the incredulous amount of dedication and hard work that each employee puts in every day to better achieve the Trust’s goals.

I’VE GOT THE NEED, THE NEED … FOR SPEED … (and rest, ugh)So, now that you all know a little bit about how I operate outside of the Washington Center, I figured I might as well inform you a little of what goes on inside/around the area. The living situation is surprisingly smooth. We go to work, we come home, and we crash… hard. Who would’ve thought a full work week would be physically taxing (*cough, SARCASAM, *cough). Jose, Demetrius, Ryan, and I all, surely, feel the pains associated with the working world, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun either. With the exception of Jose (who just arrived this past Saturday), we’ve all had our chance to delve into the deep bowels of the D.C. nightlife. Trust me when I say that happy hour can be your best friend (even for you non-fiesta types). While I personally have not had the opportunity to indulge in the fineries of happy hour, I can at least attest to what happens when you don’t take advantage of it. Let me be blunt, if you go out at night on a Friday or a Saturday: you will spend money, and more than likely you’ll spend more than you want to. Luckily, I have an impeccable sense of fiscal responsibility (HA!) and have kept my expenditures to a minimum. However, that’s not to say that what’s to offer is not completely worth the hiked price of admission. Most places that we’ve ventured to have been hoppin’ harder than a Kangaroo on crack, but indulge too much and you’ll watch your wallet dwindle faster than Lindsey Lohan’s dignity.

As I wind down this first post, I find myself, similarly, winding down for the night. Life out here is a rush, and not the kind involving Neil Peart (who is a totally-awesome drummer by the way). The days go by too quick, and I’d bet, that in my later years, I’ll continually turn back to the experiences I’ve shared (and will share) in this blog as a reminder of the fun, fast, and furious (not the kind involving Vin Diesel or Paul Walker) lifestyle that is, and will, change my very outlook on this crazy game of poker that we call life. Therefore, until next time: party on Wayne, party on Garth, and as former pro-snowboarder Shawn Farmer once said… “Don’t sweat the petty, pet the sweaty.”

Oh, and I figured I’d also leave you with some good-ol’ D.C.-Chinatown blues (this guy knew how to kick it up a couple notches).