A Living Magazine - Day 306 - Homecoming - Washington: One More Night

In a repeat performance of the two days before, I did my morning thing and - as with the two mornings before - headed to Starbucks on M Street.

My glowing optimism of being able to buy a Greyhound ticket to Elkton (a town on the border between Maryland and Delaware) was quickly snubbed-out when I saw that all the tickets had gone up by $20 for leaving that day. My tightwad sensibilities would not accept that. It would leave me no money for anything else. I checked Amtrak, and there was no service close enough to Elkton. I'll spare you all the gory details of how many different ways this was a pain in the ass. I went back and forth between the Amtrak and Greyhound websites checking different routes and schedules, but was left confused and not just a little bit pissed off at myself for not buying the ticket the day before.

In order to get the original price I'd wanted, I'd have to stay in DC for two more days--which would deplete my funds, and leave me in the same situation as spending more to go on this day. The only option - which I dreaded - was to buy a ticket for 5:45 a.m. the next morning. The price was right but it would mean spending this whole day in DC again, sleeping in Georgetown, and then getting up at 2:30 a.m. the next day in order to walk the four miles to Union Station--in the rain. Walking four miles through the dark city streets of Washington DC after what was likely to have been a crazy Friday night did not appeal to me.

As I've mentioned a few times here before, I had to choose by the POMA method--when all options are weighed up, even though the best solution is terrible, it must be chosen. So, I bought the early morning ticket and steeled myself for the hardship to come. What I didn't realize then was just how much more convoluted things would be after I reached Union Station the next day. But, that story belongs to the next post.

Here on my last day in this area, I decided to return to Arlington and work there. I even contemplated finding a sleep spot there over in the east, past the cemetery if I could cross a bridge closer to Union Station. With all of these confused little thought-fishies swimming around in my brain, I left. This time I would cross the FSK Bridge into Arlington. This would allow me to easily get back to the sleep spot if no better one materialized on the east side. By the time I'd bought my online ticket it was already early afternoon.

I walked up to a FedEx store and printed off the ticket. In the back of my mind was the admonition of several "bad side of the town" forums that I use to vet cities before finding sleep spots. In the case of DC, there were strong warnings to stay clear of the eastern side of the city. Over there, it was no quaint little college town. It was the hood--pure and undiluted. But, if it saved me an hour of walking the next day, it might be worth it. Such was my swirling set of decisions as I crossed the bridge...   

Back across the Francis Scott Key Bridge from Georgetown to Arlington.

Construction on Lynn Street, in the Rosslyn district of Arlington.

I set up my Starbucks camp at the far end of a narrow window-side counter, and sipped my traditional tall, dark roast. As people who frequent use Starbucks to do work know well, there is never a time limit on being there. It is a place that I always feel perfectly comfortable working for hours and hours. It would be six hours on this day. The only thing I wish they had was less expensive cold drinks. But, shit, ya can't have everything, Alex!

I never did find a closer way to camp in Arlington and cross over near Union Station, so I sighed at the end of the day, then left Starbucks to go get a beer before going back to the Georgetown sleep spot.

People with higher-shelf standards will get a kick out of my choice for brew at a sleep spot: Icehouse Edge--it's 8% kick and 24 oz size is only $1.69--after tax. This is not good tasting beer (actually it's a malt liquor), nor is the quality above sub-fair. But, I've had a lot of shitty beer in the last few years. It's how I roll, baby! Of the vagrant-under-the-bridge-drinking-in-public-from-a-can-in-a-paper-bag brews, it is better than Natty Daddy, Steel Reserve, or Hurricane. These other three are headaches-in-a-can. Edge doesn't give me a headache.

Just the fact that I'm telling the world about my bad taste and embarrassing way of relaxing at the end of the day, shows you just how the mighty have fallen. That is, if I had ever been mighty (which I haven't). So, okay, maybe it just describes the fallen. Ha, ha! Honestly though, there have been sleeping situations on these journeys that are so uncomfortable, intimidating, cold, dangerous, wet and generally miserable, that a brew of this kind can provide just enough Dutch courage and anxiolytic effect to calm me down, allow me relax and get to sleep. After all, if I was going to be eaten by a bear or be killed by the Shadow Man ^[1,2], I  might as well have a little buzz on.

On the way, and just before crossing the bridge, I spied with my little eye another camper of the more permanent kind who had taken a good spot. His tent was a bit on the giant side, when compared to my slick little Particle 13. But not everyone can be as fortunate as a Nomad...

Lovers locked forever to their bridge.

Canal Road entrance to the Georgetown University campus.

I passed this every day, and slept very nearby and just below it. 

When I got to the little stream that leads to my spot the sun was still up. I stepped into the edge of the woods and saw four large does and a buck who had been drinking, raise their heads, then bolt toward the road, just as cars were coming. I yelled "No!" They saw this potential disaster, and suddenly turned to run along the edge of the road. My heart skipped about five beats. The last thing I needed on my conscience was a car-deer collision, caused by me! Thankfully, such did not occur.

I had to be in "bed" much earlier if I wanted to get up at 2:30 the next morning. At this point I didn't care about being seen anymore. I knew that no one else cared either. And I set up the tent, then just contemplated and ruminated, filling in some more Sharpie art on the tent fly, then left my mark on an old twisted tree I'd gotten to enjoy to sight of. Someday I will return to Washington and see if this is still there...

I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get to sleep, but it wasn't a problem. I'll tell you one thing though: 2:30 a.m. came a hell of alot faster than I wanted it to. And, a day of challenges and stress would shortly ensue.

For now, the glow of the sunset, the peepers bubbling out their little songs, the not-so-distant college students blasted out their songs on the ridge above me lulled me into unconsciousness, and - for that moment - all was right with the world.