Things I miss from DC...
When I think of the things that I do miss from living in the DC area, I usually don't think of many things until I'm reminded of them. On of those things is Rolling Thunder.
In 2002 or 2003, we were hanging out at the Lucky Bar on Memorial Day weekend. The parade was over, but the bikers were still out in full force looking for a place to hang out. A decent number of them wound up at the table next to ours outside the bar.
Looking over, I see one of them showing his compatriots the head of some sort of Uncle Sam doll. He said that he had noticed it on the side of the road, and was taking it home as a souvenir.
About 30 minutes later, he notices a bike going by with a headless Uncle Sam doll in the back seat, stopped at the corner traffic light.. The guy jumps up, runs out (and given this guy's girth, running is no mean feat), up to the corner, and catches the doll's owner before the green light hits.
Within 10 minutes, the finder of the head and the head's owner are both at the next table over, doing shots together.
I didn't talk to either of them, or anyone else at the table. I wish I had in retrospect. But I realized that there was something about that sort of camaraderie - the idea that a guy you had never met, but stood for the same things that you did, could instantly be, if nothing else, a memorable drinking buddy. I can't say I ever felt anything like that "I am of this tribe" instinct to that extent.
But I'm not gonna get shot at in some pointless war to get to that point, either. My loss.
In 2002 or 2003, we were hanging out at the Lucky Bar on Memorial Day weekend. The parade was over, but the bikers were still out in full force looking for a place to hang out. A decent number of them wound up at the table next to ours outside the bar.
Looking over, I see one of them showing his compatriots the head of some sort of Uncle Sam doll. He said that he had noticed it on the side of the road, and was taking it home as a souvenir.
About 30 minutes later, he notices a bike going by with a headless Uncle Sam doll in the back seat, stopped at the corner traffic light.. The guy jumps up, runs out (and given this guy's girth, running is no mean feat), up to the corner, and catches the doll's owner before the green light hits.
Within 10 minutes, the finder of the head and the head's owner are both at the next table over, doing shots together.
I didn't talk to either of them, or anyone else at the table. I wish I had in retrospect. But I realized that there was something about that sort of camaraderie - the idea that a guy you had never met, but stood for the same things that you did, could instantly be, if nothing else, a memorable drinking buddy. I can't say I ever felt anything like that "I am of this tribe" instinct to that extent.
But I'm not gonna get shot at in some pointless war to get to that point, either. My loss.