Greetings from the Swamp

I once went to Baton Rouge on business in April. The air was so thick with humidity that I thought I was going to die. DC in the summer is like Baton Rouge in April. How the hell people live down there in August is beyond me.

I walked out the front door before 7 a.m. and the thickness of the air hit me with a thud. Dang. Repeat after me: It’s better than February.

Little Nellie got the call. She didn’t complain. We took the long way  which adds about 2 miles to my round trip commute. I wonder how many DC-area car commuters added miles for the fun of it today. I was in the zone for the entire ride. Except when I spotted Nancy “Two Sheds” Duley waving like a lunatic as she approached from the north. 

The humidity was so thick that all the wooden bridges on the Mount Vernon Trail were slippery. Falling can ruin your whole day so I was extra careful.

I passed through the intersection of doom unscathed despite the fact for the third day in a row a car ran a red light in front of me. Why doesn’t Arlington County put a red light camera at this intersection? They could put up a sign like McDonalds: $1,000,000 collected this month. Or, a sign like you see at a factory: 1 minute since last red light runner.

The ride home was a uneventful.

No snapping turtles.

Nobody cut me off.

No crazy ivans. 

No ninjas.

No frostbite.

 

Nobody called me “Sir”. (In my mind I’m not old, until some young whippersnapper says, “Passing on your left, sir.”) Good thing I wasn’t wearing my AARP t-shirt.

It didn’t rain.

I was soaking wet when I got home.

Like Baton Rouge in April.

 

 

 

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