baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- homeward Written a week ago... So, I�m headed home. My last morning in Washington DC was spent wandering from the White House and back to the room, snapping photos along the way. My original intent was to visit the National Aquarium. But, the promise of snow covered statues and that certain chilly crunch underneath my boots overcame my need to see fish-although I�m sure they were beautiful. Surprisingly, I came to welcome the chill (I�m sure the oversized jacket I borrowed helped). I can now understand how someone could miss the change of the seasons when faced with the perpetual sun and blue of Southern California. There is a beauty to the snow-how it blankets porches and the branches of trees-how it layers itself upon steps and on window sills. Last night, I was able to visit Adams Morgan, one of the areas suggested by a new aquaintance. His description was amazingly accurate-music clubs and restaurants line the street under lighted decorations, people of various ethnicities and styles strolled by in long coats and hats-gliding over the the icy sidewalks with ease and grace. D took me to the Spy Lounge-where a friend DJs on certain nights. Normally, I would have felt out of place in a club like the Spy Lounge. It boasted an underground vibe-with its small signage and neon flashing strobes on the walls. But with D�s imposing presence (he towered over most everyone there), and his popularity with most of the other patrons (apparently, The Spy Lounge is a favorite hang out for those of our professional ilk), I was quickly accepted-a veritable red carpet of sorts rolled out for D�s friend from the west. When I first heard "DJ," I had immediately thought of electronica-or house; someone with a laptop or two-mixing hypnotic beats with the occasional sample-maybe a disembodied line from a movie-or another song. I had never really experienced that sort of peformance and was hoping to be amazed. Instead, I found someone simply playing songs from the 80s-no remix, no extended beats, no spins-just straight up jam. It was fine-but not much different from a jukebox. The DJ didn�t talk to the audience-there was no interaction-and the songs he played were familiar. I had hoped for something different. It was still a pleasant evening, despite my DJ snobiness. D is fine company and altogether easy to chat with. I felt good in his presence even though I barely knew him. Most interesting were the dynamics of the women I met while suitably buzzed on jack and coke and midori sours. With no ring on my finger, D mentioned to me later that they all assumed I was gay. This didn�t come as a revelation to me. The assumption is a common one although I�m clueless as to what it is about me that comes across as gay. I don�t dress anywhere as nice as the Fab Five nor am I as striking in looks. D tells me that I�m not effeminate in behavior-but something in my interaction with women, specifically attractive ones, signals a potential preference for males. Interesting. One did ask me (in private) where I was staying. I questioned why and she simply smiled. I wasn�t sure how to react. But, I did say that my girlfriend wouldn�t appreciate room visitors with long curly hair, breasts and a vagina. "Perhaps if you were male," I said-not realizing how that must have sounded. I was a fun night. It was a fun week. But, I�m, happy to be heading home. 9:23 p.m. - 2004-02-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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