I love those observations-on-life columns. The ones in the Leisure or Style sections of newspapers, the My Voice articles in women’s magazines, the fluffier essays in Time – I love them all. I like the sarcasm, the written validation of thoughts I’ve often had but never said, and best of all, the come-full-circle ending paragraphs.
A PG version Carrie Bradshaw’s job would be perfect for me. My current hometown, DC, is every bit as lively as the Big Apple, from the ubiquitous kickball tournaments to the frequent street fairs. My friends are just as quirky than the NYC foursome, although we’re less stylish and too sleepy to be controversial when we go out for Saturday brunches. Most importantly, I avoid bad puns and have never been seen outside in a pink tutu. I’m highly qualified for this fantasy position. Lacking any lucrative (or non-lucrative) offers, however, I generously offer up to the blogosphere my very first and complimentary column of the new series, “Lost in DC.”
Getting lost in DC is easy. First, there’s the obvious. We have four quadrants, meaning that when you tell someone you’re at 17th and K, you could (well, maybe you couldn’t, but I most certainly could) be at any one of four 17th and K locations. Second, we like to re-use numbers for our highways. The major roads to get around here are 95, 295, 395, and 495. Even if you have perfect vision and can see the first digit in these signs a mile away, we’re constantly rebuilding and reconfiguring entrances and exits and blocking off road sections on whims. Keeps life exciting.
Finally, no one really knows the city layout. People say, “Oh yes, once you realize there are four sections, you’re all set.” Well, I know full well that my city is quartered, and I still don’t always end up where I intended. Call those same people when you are confused, and ask them exactly you get from point A to point B. Invariably, they will sheepishly admit that they don’t often go into that neighborhood, and can’t help you there.
In general, I’m a master at picking out the people walking by who know where they’re going and will give me good directions. In New York, Philadelphia, and Providence, I’ve never gotten incorrect directions. In DC, my success rate is hovering at about 10%. Everyone’s confused here; the only variance is in how much we’ll admit to it.
It’s also easy to get lost in DC on a deeper level. No, I don’t mean the metro – that’s the only transportation that I manage to successfully navigate on a regular basis. I mean that this is a transient city. You meet few people here who were born and raised in this city and intend to stay. Instead, young people come after college, try out a few careers and a few living areas, and move on to grad school or new cities. It’s unusual to stay in a job for more than a year or two. In small talk here, the first question is “What do you do?”, the second is “Do you like it?”, and the third is, “Are you looking for other jobs?” or “Would you like to talk to my friend, so-and-so, who might have some good connections for you?”
If sticking with one position for more than two birthdays raises eyebrows, renewing a lease is even more unusual. In the eight months I’ve lived in my 9-apartment complex on Capital Hill, I’ve seen four moves, not including mine. Is it any surprise I only know one neighbor by name?
I feel like I’m floating here. After four years of college, aiming for good grades and a job after graduation, I’m suddenly without a grand plan for life or even a certainty of my return address a year from now. Most of my friends plan to head out of this city within the next year or two, and I don’t think I have the patience to last another six months in my current job.
Sometimes I feel lost, and sometimes I just feel free. Fine, I’m nearly always lost. Everyone knows the scenic route is more fun, though. What would Sex and the City have been if Carrie had married Mr. Big in the first season? Since I have a knack for taking the more circuitous paths for all of my goals, you can be sure that “Lost in DC” will continue.
(Camera shot of me typing at our kitchen table, pausing momentarily to stare thoughtfully through the window at the city lights below, and then a close-up of the computer screen with the new blog entry.)
