The bad rap is a self-fulfilling prophecy. Everyone here is from somewhere else, usually a more friendly small town where people are nice, a place to which DC compares unfavorably. When these people arrive from “Indiana” (in quotes because there’s some question in my mind as to whether it is an actual place) or “Missouri” (same reason for quotes), they decide they must fit in, and thus walk around ignoring everyone else’s existence.
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In my old neighborhood near RFK, I had countless offers of help unloading my car or raking leaves or cutting grass, totally unsolicited help, help that I didn’t need, help that was a little aggressive and frightening, help that (of course) required compensation. Such friendly helpfulness!
There’s the joke guy who sometimes followed me down Pennsylvania Avenue on Capitol Hill telling me off-color jokes for some reason, and then there’s the “Final Jeopardy” guy down town who always wishes me to test his knowledge of state capitals as I staggered out of Indebleu (I’ve learned that’s how it’s spelled even when you NOT drunk!); better him than me, I say! I can only imagine the scene if he insisted on testing my knowledge of state capitals as I steady myself against a light post and blather on about how much I love him, man! He wouldn’t give me a cent.
But the friendliest guy I’ve met in the city was on Capitol Hill. He was some sort of Bottom–like mechanical, dressed in blue work clothes and a tool belt. I met him four or five times at various locations around the Hill, and he always seems to be in the same pickle. Quite the absentminded fellow, he’s constantly on the phone with his wife, trying to figure out how to get home. You see, he consistently leaves his wallet and keys in his coveralls back at work and doesn’t have any change for the bus. He always tells his wife to hold on and he’ll ask someone, and that someone was me. He was always happy and amused by his mistake. Such a friendly guy! And so prone to forgetfulness! If you see him around (and I bet you will), become a part of the friendly DC and tell him his old friend at aportablesnack says hello!
3 comments:
Believe it or not, Missouri DOES exist. I know, I was as shocked as you are.
Good post - it's true, the occasional "look how important I am" tool in this city tends to blind one to the many, many truly nice people (locals and transplants). My neighborhood Panera is a great example - conversations strike up at random, the employees ask how you're doing and remember your favorite bagels, and you never lack someone to watch your computer when you run off to refill coffee or pick up your order.
Friendly: walking past the security guard you see everyday in the building that you live in and never saying two words to him/her ("I'm just too busy to acknowledge that someone else exists besides myself"). But it's also true that there were some random people living in the same building who helped me clean up a rather large mess that I made in the business ctr one time (don't ask), so you are in fact, right. :)
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