The other day this thought drifted across my mind: “My life isn’t very exciting.” My mind immediately jumped out of its front porch rocking chair and said: “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Not that there aren’t days that are very, very slow… (the other day I found myself googling: “Funny bunny pictures”….) or weeks when I feel like all I do is work, go home, eat, read, go to sleep, repeat…
But some days I get told stuff like this:
“Hey, you wanna go see Biden tomorrow?”
Now, I know that as a D.C. resident and journalist I’m supposed to be all jaded and used this kind of thing, and I convinced myself I was for a while, but at some point sitting in that big room waiting for the VP to show up, I got tingles. I’m going to see the vice president of the entire United States of America in person! I felt like a little girl on a field trip.
Awaiting the VP
He was just as goofy as they say he is. The whole room was decked out, police officers’ boots and badges shiny, Aaron Copeland symphonies playing while they waited — a certain sense of grand expectation. And then in walks Biden with a ridiculous lop-sided grin on his face to give a speech that I’m sure had to be more dignified in its original form, but when it came out of his mouth sounded like a talk he was just givin’ the boys over donuts. Maybe that’s his gift.
Also, in case you were wondering, the only inappropriate word he uttered in that speech was “hell” — as in “How the hell are you going to do that [police streets without funding]? Excuse me, how the heck.”
Those pesky broadcast journalists
While we were waiting for the VP, a Virginia congressman I sometimes write about came over and started talking to the woman on my right. Then he turned to me and introduced himself and shook my hand and said: “I wanted to meet you because I see you’re reading All the King’s Men.” It gave me a little a hope for the world that he, too, has read a good book and loved it.
“And now for something entirely different,” as they say. (Pop culture reference!) Yesterday I went to the D.C. Turkish festival with my friend James. I think we both decided we could die happy when, after crooning Turkish love songs ad nauseum, the tan Turkish pop star with the too-tight jacket and slightly unbuttoned white shirt started singing “We will, we will rock you.” I kind of wanted to go touch his hand and swoon with all the other front-row females, but didn’t. I also got to meet some Ottoman impersonators (the historical regime, not the furniture), pet a Turkish kitty, pick up a slightly creepy Turkish airlines magnet with a picture of a pretty woman with hairline problems, and see and smell little reminders of my trip to Turkey last year… scarves, plates, calligraphy, doners, baklava.
"It was fun," as Mehmet would say
And the last picture is for Juls, because I know she would disapprove of me taking pictures of children I don’t know… This polka-dot-covered baby was getting bounced to the beat of Queen and seemed to like it.
Nothing like polka dots to go with your pop music