Washington to Washington

The Entourage

2007-09-06T16:08:00.000-04:00

Odin and I decide to avoid the weekend movie crowd and opt to see a flick on a Wednesday. I highly recommend this if you can; you get the theater to yourself, fresh popcorn, and no lines.

Our theater was virtually empty, a few other couples that also escaped mundane primetime television and a few solos that probably couldn’t get their ladies to sit through a pseudo-kung fu movie. (Maybe didn’t tell them that Jason Statham was in the film – that pretty much did it for me.)

Minutes before the lengthy previews, a crowd of ‘rowdy’ teenagers came in and planted themselves in the front rows. Cheering and jeering at each preview and commercial. Okay, they weren’t that bad, but they weren’t subtle.

As we were leaving and reflecting on the special effects; the teenagers loudly gave their reviews of the flick, which I happen to agree with – yes, Statham could have taken off his shirt a bit more.

Anyhow, as we walked to the car, a security detail with blacked-out Suburbans and towncars pulled up. Odin and I joked about who may be still shopping at ten o’clock at night.

To our surprise, we watched the ‘rowdy’ teenagers pile into the SUV’s.

There’s no such thing as fashion in 14 degrees

2007-01-31T15:14:00.000-05:00

Walking from the office to my car is always an interesting observation in fashion.

My office building is not in the District; however, it is on the Metro line and in a “revamped” city on the boarder. Therefore, there are many hipsters, federal employees, and high power executives walking through the building’s courtyard to either catch the next train or working in the area. Needless to say, there is a variety of fashion coming and going to entertain my walk.

Yesterday, I noticed a pretty girl in boots with her pants tucked into them, a lightweight ‘designer’ coat, and a beanie that was clearly for looks and not for warmth. She was complaining to her walking companion that she was freezing. I had to roll my eyes.

Personally, when the weather is below 30 degrees, I usually try to dress appropriately: warm coat, scarf, gloves, proper footwear, etc. I even have a different coat for different weather conditions, i.e. snow, rain, artic wind. Nevertheless, many women around here walk around in clothes that barely warm keep their coffee warm.

I joked with my mom, “there is no such thing as fashion when it’s cold outside.” Her response was, “well, not when you are on the east coast.” She was right, but I have to disagree. I’m wearing my big, ugly, “Seattle brand” coat, my “snow shoes” (not heels) and a hat that covers my ears!

IT’S 14 DEGREES OUTSIDE!

A Straight Line

2006-11-17T15:17:00.000-05:00

The closest distance between two points is a straight line. Sure, that makes sense, EXCEPT when you are jaywalking.

Around my office building, jaywalking is about as common as Starbucks coffee. I understand that in most States jaywalking is against the law. If fact, a pedestrian automatically gives up their right-a-way when they do not use the crosswalk when crossing a street, with certain expectations like blindness.

Well, Maryland would make bundles over here!

What the scariest part is people still jaywalk during rainstorms, night, fog, etc. With how crazy everyone drives around here, it worries me that someone may get hit.

A few weeks ago, a 25-year-old jaywalker was hit and killed by a car.

Instead of assuming everyone are idiots around here, I attribute the jaywalking to the intense rhythm of DC.

Everyone is always in hurry. They are in a hurry to get to work, to the gym, getting their kids, to the mall, to the movies, etc. It’s a wonder that I don’t hear more about jaywalkers getting hit by cars. Everyone is in such in a hurry that they can’t wait 60 seconds for the light. 60 seconds between life and death. That’s it. One minute. It took someone dying to make people wake up.

For about a week.

At work, I am made fun of a lot because of my relaxed “Northwest” ways; like waiting for the light. In fact, I am one of the only ones who make their deadlines and often get my work done early, but I never rush. I plan. I don’t expect the team to redo their work because I did not do my job correctly. Moreover, I don’t expect for a driver to stop because I’m crossing through the median. Maybe if we all plan, we don’t have to be in a hurry.

Sometimes the straight line isn’t the safest path.

That was me…then.

2006-11-06T22:18:00.001-05:00

Living in the DC area I was expecting to see people everywhere shouting to “Get out the Vote,” “Rock the Vote”, “Vote or Die”, “Vote for Me! Don’t vote for Them!” But, today was rather quiet. Even at my Starbucks, everyone was talking about other things.

When elections come around it always reminds me of high school. Not because I was Class President, far from it in fact. But what were these people, who are professing that they will change the world if we check their box, like in high school? Were they that annoying know-it-all? Or the shy beatnik in the back of the drama class? Or the Homecoming Queen with the spotty reputation? Or were they the nice guy that transferred from the rival school?

I was none of those, I was a geek.

Not the cool kind of nerd that played D & D or RISK, and was in the honor classes.

No. I was in Colorguard/Band.

This label at my high school in Southern California equaled: Outcast.

The funny thing is if you asked me right out high school if I was popular or a nerd I would say, “I was neither, but I knew a lot of people.” This, of course, line is universal for: “I was a NOBODY, but I don’t want YOU to know that!”

The reality of where I fell in my high school caste system came down a few years before my 10 year high school reunion. I was at a Hollywood club with my friend Matt and few of his film school buddies. One of his classmates brought a fellow future filmmaker Lance Weber. Now, I knew “of” Lance from high school. He was part of the popular crowd in the year before me. When I mentioned that I knew him and that we went to the same high school, he, of course, looked dumbfounded.

“Really? Were you a cheerleader?” Lance asked.
“Umm, no.” I replied.
“Student Union?”
“No.”
“Sports?”
“No. I was on the colorguard.”
“You were part of the DOG SQUAD??” Lance yelled and laughed.

I mortified. Three years of my high school career was quickly defined as the ‘dog squad years.’ I knew I should have listened to my other friends, who lived by my dad, NOT to gone out for the tall flag team.

Lance saw my face fall and tried to recover just as quickly. “But, YOU are not a DOG! I mean, most of those girls were UGLY! I mean COYOTE UGLY! But not you! I mean…”
“Hey buddy! Those girls are still my friends!!” That of course changed just as fast. I found out later, “those girls” used to call me slut behind my back, according to Mark Peet who used to play Baritone. (Which was funny, because I never had a boyfriend in high school?)

When my invitation to my 10 year reunion came, I declined.

Sometimes You Can Trust a Stranger

2006-11-01T17:37:00.000-05:00

I always hate when the time returns to standard time; mostly because it's dark when I'm walking to my car. The parking garage is well-lit and my self defense instincts are good, you know not talking on the phone, being aware of my surroundings, walking in pairs if possible.

Living in Seattle for so long I think my "city instincts" have soften, because I didn't notice the guy that was following me out of my building. When I stopped to tie my shoe and get my keys, he stopped and waited for me. I didn't noticed until I stopped at the mailbox, when he waited for me again.

Call me paranoid, but I felt I needed to do something to get him off my tail. As I started again, I was thinking of returning to the building and waiting, but it was too late for that. Then I saw a tall guy on a cell phone by the mailboxes. I walked up to him and went into my bag to look for my phone. I made a joke about how I am "always losing my phone, you know?" I stared at him, then glanced at the guy behind me, then looked at him again. I was hoping he got my message. He did. He smiled and nodded.

The guy that was following me kept walking. I thanked the tall man and he said, "No problem!" he gave me a wave. I began my trek to the parking garage. I kept the man that was following me ahead of me by a block.

I checked back to see the tall man's ride come to pick him up. I thanked him silently again as I walked safety to my car.

Causal Weekends

2006-09-24T23:30:00.000-04:00

Last night at a dinner party a few of us girls were all discussing their favorite designer labels and where they all shop. We all were shocked to find out that each of us is completely ignored at our favorite “high-end” shops. No, I do not want to be dotted upon while I shop, however unlocking a dressing room or finding my size in the back would be helpful.

My husband and I fell victim to this unaccommodating behavior when we were at Brooks Brothers. In fact, every time we go into Brooks Brothers - Tysons. All the sales people would open rooms, get sizes, and be friendly to the other shoppers and we would walk around with our hands full in search of an open dressing room. When we finally walked up to pay (none of the other shoppers purchased anything) they almost seemed amazed that my credit card went through. Unbelievable! I would quit shopping there, but I love their clothes for work.

After I relayed my story to the other girls at the party, they all began giving a list of the “high-end” stores that seem notorious for this behavior: Burberry, Ralph Lauren, Saks, Chanel (also at Tysons). Each of us hold professional jobs; a college professor, an attorney, a film producer, and a corporate statistician, however we still get treated like we made a wrong turn into their store.

The Verdict: We all don’t look like our professional jobs.

All week long all of us wear suits or something along the lines of business wear, also high heels and the dreadful panty hose. On the weekends, it is time for jeans, flip-flops, and college sweatshirts or old Roxy shirts. I am not going to doll-up to go to the MALL! We are not on 5th Avenue or Rodeo Drive. And even if I was, I am still not wearing heels!

All around the Galleria these women are dotting their Chloe’ bags and wearing more makeup than I wear all week.

IT’S STILL THE MALL! The mall! The mall where we used to go and pick up a cassette single and Orange Julius! The mall where we had to work at night and on the weekends for minimum wage. The mall that still houses The Gap, Wet Seal, and Payless Shoes!

In Seattle, Melinda Gates shops at the mall in JEANS! (I know, I used to work at the Nordstrom she shopped at.)

Why do we have to dress up on the weekends?

How do you like it so far?

2006-08-07T17:26:00.000-04:00

It’s been 6 months since moving to the DC Metro area. I still am asked, “Am I still used to it yet?” “How do you like it out there?” “Do you want to move back to Seattle?”

My answers: Sort of. It’s nice. Not really, at least not right now.

In fact, I don’t hate it out here; it’s quite lovely. I’m originally from Los Angeles, so it’s nice to be back in a large city, especially the nation’s capital. There are many things to see and tons of stuff to do.

THE GOOD STUFF

HOME: Great! We have made our little apartment homey and are beginning to enjoy the amenities of our complex.

WORK: Great! I am in a new job with a great company and good co-workers. Granted it’s been a little quiet with many people escaping for vacation, but I can’t complain, I think this is a good fit.

METRO: Well, I don’t ride anymore. It is actually cheaper for me to drive to work and quicker. I opted for the 25-minute drive into Maryland from Fairfax to the hour and a half ride from taking the Metro.

COST: DC is a lot cheaper than Seattle. Yes, it’s true. I think because there are a lot more choices than Seattle. You don’t have to choose among the 5 good restaurants, instead you have several dozens. The museums, art shows, some parking, and sales tax (4%), most of this stuff is free. Even the rent is pretty good for what you get.

TRAFFIC: The traffic is not bad at all, the beltway may have more volume, but it moves. Again, I’m a native Southern Californian so I have seen real traffic.

THE NOT-SO-GOOD STUFF

FRIENDS: Well, that has not changed. Because of how much Odin works, I spend a lot of time alone. I have used that time to explore, so when we get to have a free night together or an entire weekend; I can show him my “research.”

PEOPLE: That is an interesting situation. I consider myself a generally friendly person. In fact, I have never been accused of being shy. However, striking up conversations with strangers has been interesting. Something as little as holding a door open to standing in line, I have noticed that East Coasters enjoy their own company – for a lack of a better term.

For instance, today, I politely mentioned to the man standing in the elevator that his shoes were untied. He gruffed and said, “Yeah, I KNOW!” This is not uncommon. I have noticed that many people are very pushy, very loud, and seem to feel they are the “most important person” around—mostly to the amount of limos and blackout town cars that are about town.

However, I have run into some downright lovely people. At my last position, a woman that was applying to replace me enjoyed our conversation so much that she actually invited me to meet her and some friends for a movie. No, she was not a local; she was from the West and knew how hard it was to meet people.

I still have hope.

"...that's YOUR office, Ms. McGill."

2006-07-16T19:22:00.000-04:00

In the movies, we always root for the underdog team, the class nerd to get a date with the Homecoming Queen, the small town kid to make it in the big city. Well, that was me this week...at my new job!

After years of Community College, University (Go Cougs!), battling through Graduate School, working three jobs to make ends meet; I finally heard those imfamous words that Tess McGill heard (Melanie Griffth's character in 'Working Girl')-- "No, Vanessa that is YOUR office." My response, "I'm sorry I thought I was working out here." "No, Project Analysts get their own offices."

As I walked in, I was shocked. There was a desk, a new computer, and a WINDOW! Several co-workers came in to introduce themselves, the Research Assistants asked if I wanted coffee -- I felt as if I was living someone else's life. When I walked around to collect office supplies, a Senior Analyst asked me about my Alma Mater and how he knew some old professors of mine.

I guess it's true, hard work does pay off. Granted, I will now understand the term , "corporate slavery" with my 70 hour work weeks, business travel, and deadlines. But, that stuff I can do.

It's just shocking that this thing you have been planning for years, going to the right school, working for the right firms, making the right contacts, has worked and pays off. Not that I'm going to complain when I walk into Manolo Blahnik next week and pay cash for a new pair of heels. I'm still shell shocked!

So, now I finally got the job -- my question is this, what's next?

Wet T-shirt Contest

2006-06-19T19:37:00.000-04:00

Yep. That was me. The girl walking to her car. In the pouring rain. Without an umbrella -- in WHITE. At least the rain was warm. However, the sandals I planned on returning to Nordstrom are ruined. Oh well.

There’s a saying in some circles in Seattle, “you know who the locals are by those who DON’T carry an umbrella.” Funny, I was never really a local, but still obeyed the local rules. Well, Dorothy you ain’t in Kansas no more! I will be carrying a bumbershoot from now on!

For those who don’t know, the rain in Seattle is really like a heavy mist. Don’t get me wrong it does rain, but nothing like it is now. I understand the term, raining like cats and dogs.

Urgent Care

2006-06-15T12:14:00.000-04:00

Post by: Odin (V's Husband)

I’m sure this is something that everyone has encountered at one time or another: a trip to the ER. Sick people puking and coughing all around you, elderly people producing strange smells and odd sounds…and the inevitable, unavoidable wait.

Yesterday I took myself to the ER. I have been having excruciating muscle spasms in my back for the past 10 days, which caused me to wince and limp almost constantly. Not a pleasant way to spend ones’ time, especially when my job requires sitting for hours in front of a computer interspersed with short periods of rapid movement. Plus, I was afraid that I would have a spasm in the shower, slip, and really hurt myself.

So I went to the ER (just moved here and don’t have a regular doc yet) to see what could be done about the situation. I knew I would be prescribed pain killers and muscle relaxants to take the edge off and help my back heal…I also figured I might be there a couple of hours. I registered with the ER nurse before 8am on a Tuesday morning; I was the only person in the waiting room. I even thought, foolishly, that I might be home in time to watch “The Price is Right.” Bob Barker is a freakin’ god (except for the part where he’s a dirty old pervert).

The sign above the door read “Urgent Care” in big white letters, and I believed it. As a member of our society I have been trained from birth to trust signs; I stop for “stop” signs, I yield to pedestrians, and don’t use the Express Lane at the market if I have more than 10 items. Stupid idealism. They really need to change that sign.

I was given a room between some poor guy that was screaming his head off and an elderly Indian lady whose daughter was apparently convinced that she knew more than every doctor who came to talk to them. If I had been one of those doctors I would have said, “Look, lady, who’s wearing the white coat and carrying a stethoscope here? Not you, I see. Shut up and let me help your Mom.” I have excellent bedside manners and a sunny disposition. Towards the end, I got kicked out of my room and given a “hall spot” which they tried to make sound as good as a room, but it was totally a demotion.

Finally, I put my clothes on, in the hallway because there was no place else to go, and the doctor walked around the corner just as I finished. The look of surprise on her face said it all, I’d been lost in the shuffle. “You’re still here?” she asked. “Apparently,” I replied. “Shut up! You haven’t been discharged yet?” she said, to which I replied “Does it look like it?…and you haven’t given me a prescription yet either.”

I left the “Urgent” Care department 5 hours after arriving, having been left alone in an examination room (and the hallway) for 4 hours and 45 minutes of those 5 hours. The care I received was very professional and courteous though it was anything but “Urgent.”

Next time I go in there I’ll make sure I’m bleeding. Rumor has it they’ll see you quicker if you’re making a mess on the floor.

Two Drink Minimum

2006-06-14T14:15:00.000-04:00

When I first started my job, my predecessor mentioned to that some of my co-workers may, on occasion, drink in the office. That's fine I thought, at the dot com I worked for in Seattle, the CEO would sponsor "liquid lunches" for the whole company... there's nothing like free pizza and beer.

Okay, so the guys have a happy hour, no problem -- it is a lobbyist firm. She secretly showed me where one of them camouflages his booze inside a false globe as well as the massive liquor supply in the file room, hall closet, and the case of beer in the fridge. (What do they get a discount when they buy out the store?) I asked if we entertain many clients in the office. She said no, they just like an occasional cocktail. Evidently.

"Oh and by the way, some people smoke," she mentioned in passing. I was just about to shrug off the comment as a particular vice, but then I realized she meant, they smoke in the office. Grand, I thought, along with Emphysema, I better get a good reference.

Well, some do drink and not "on occasion" as I was led to believe. Our head boss, in particular, is the real boozer -- after a meeting, during a meeting, on Tuesdays. He's an old-school DC shaker, (who can be very funny and a down-right asshole on any particular day) who claims that in the old days, this was how they used to conduct deals in DC -- over a cocktail and a cigarette.

"Can we move into the modern era then?" I said to myself.

Stop Signs are Optional

2006-06-13T15:09:00.000-04:00

I hate to sound cliche, but DC HAS THE WORST DRIVERS! Yes, I'm sure that every state has their fair share of bad drivers... (and I know, I used to live in Albuquerque) but there are some drivers here that clearly have never taken a driving test or have any comprehension of the BASIC rules of the road.

My dear DC drivers, here are a few friendly reminders:

1. Green means GO, Yellow means CAUTION (not floor it), and RED means STOP!!

2. You can't make LEFT hand turns from the RIGHT lane.

3. You can't make RIGHT hand turns from the LEFT lane.

4. You can't block an intersection ... AT ANYTIME!
(This goes out to my M Street commuters)

5. You should not speed in parking lots or the wrong way down a one-way road.

6. You have to at least approach the speed limit on the freeway, pedal on the right folks, pedal on the right.

7. If you can't see over the steering wheel, you should probably reevaluate the necessity of your occupying the road with those of us who would like to LIVE.

8. You MUST use your BLINKERS ... I'm fairly certain these come standard on most cars, possibly with the exception of the Trabi...rock on, East Germany.

9. You can't double park, and I don't care about diplomatic immunity...!

10. And finally... You can't BACK-UP on the Freeway!
(Yes, I understand that you missed your exit, but... yeah... ah... no, you can't reverse on the Beltway)

And pedestrians, I'm not leaving you out. Just one thing...
Have any of you ever heard of the CROSSWALK??

Voices Carry

2006-06-07T09:46:00.000-04:00

Yesterday morning the Orange line was EXTREMELY crowded, which for the time I ride was not unusual, but this was over the top. I found a spot in the corner to sit and was ready to continue my latest thriller novel when something piqued my interest... the girl next to me said to her, (I can only guess lover/boyfriend) "Are we going to talk about this or not?" I was trying not to listen, ... Seriously... but I did. Basically, it sounded like she cheated and he wasn't sure what to do. She left the Metro crying and he seemed really upset. I know, I'm horrible.

After she exited, I was squished next to a early twenty-something DOD guy. I know this, because he was wearing his badge ... that had his name, badge number, where he works, etc. clearly printed on it. I quietly leaned over to him and kindly mentioned, "Hey, you probably shouldn't wear that in public places." I winked and smiled, to let him know I wasn't nagging, just being friendly. He replied with a cocky lifted eyebrow, "I think I'll be okay." Now, it's common knowledge in the intelligence community that you DO NOT wear your badge around in public places. So, if you want to know his name I have it ... he was probably an intern anyway.

Speaking of interns, when I transferred trains, there were these two guys, clearly in college, dressed in typical blue blazers and Gap khakis. They were talking so loud I looked around to see if I was the only one who had noticed....I was. Apparently I'm the last person on the planet who doesn't own an Ipod. The guys were talking about their internships. "Dude, so I was telling her I wasn't doing it wrong," "I know they totally think we're stupid!".... The train conductor announced we were approaching Dupont Circle....(and...wait for it) "Ah, shit we got on the wrong train!!" I had to bite my hand to keep from laughing.

All this before 8am, maybe riding the Metro isn't so bad.

Hot Child in the City

2006-06-01T11:55:00.000-04:00

Well, summer does start after Memorial Day here!

It has been around 90 degrees this week...which is not bad, but it's the humidity -- not the rhythm -- that will get you! I used to laugh about the differences of winter and summer suits, hand-held-mister fans, people who carry personal water bottles, and men in tank-tops ... well I'm not laughing anymore!

Ridin' on the Metro

2006-06-01T09:24:00.000-04:00

Coming from the west coast, public transportation is not really in my vocabulary. Not because I despise it, just it's never really been readily available.

My fantasy of the Metro was something of a Berlin song ('Ridin' on the Metro') from the 80's -- so I was in for a rude awakening.

First the good things: My station is a couple miles from our apartment, the train comes every few minutes, it drops me off a few blocks from my office downtown, and I get to do crosswords and not sit in traffic.

Okay, here's the deal... if I get a seat, life imitates art and I can 'ride the metro' in my head...all 50 minutes it takes me to get to work. Everyone is always in a hurry and usually in a frantic rush to bully you out of the way--and at 5 feet tall, I'm usually the one getting trampled. I blame my "oh, no, it's okay" response, from living on the west coast; like after someone else slammed me into a platform barrier to get to the same train we both were heading for. Or my favorite, slipping on the platform in the rain and sliding into the escalator-- people just step over you.

Next is the cost. I have heard that the "metro is great", "it's the easiest way to go", "we are right on the metro"...but no one ever says "it will cost you $15 dollars to get to Dupont Circle (roundtrip w/parking)" or "if you want to get parking, you have to get to the station before 7:30am" or "day passes ($7) only work after 930am (I work before 9am), but it won't get your car out of the parking lot." Now, I know it doesn't seem like a lot... add that up! $15 a day x 20+ days = more than my car payment.

I don't think I have ever missed driving my car so much. (Parking downtown is like a mortgage, so I ride.) Listening to a book on tape, new CD, NPR, etc. you know, all the silly things you don't think about...bucket seats, stopping for a soda, AIR CONDITIONING.

Until I get a better job closer to home (fingers crossed) or I get a raise (so I can drive), I will be "ridin' on the metro-o-o."

Fairfax County, Virginia

2006-05-31T22:39:00.000-04:00

I guess when I moved to the east coast I was excepting what you see the movies -- long roads with huge oak trees, kids in prep-school uniforms jumping in piled leaves, ladies dressed in the lastest fashions strolling along shops, etc. You know what I mean. Well, I was right about the streets. Viriginia looks a lot like... well, Seattle. Since we live in the suburbs, it looks even more like Seattle.

Yes, of course, there are parts of the DC area that are very colonial and lovely, but we live in a typical apartment that you would find anywhere around the west coast. (Except for the central air...very nice feature!)

We chose Fairfax/Falls Church/McLean (pronounced "McClain"... don't ask me why!) area because it was close to DC without the high rent. Plus, we know some colleagues that live in the area and they said it was a decent place to live.

We found our apartment online, so we didn't see it in person until we drove up. I personally DO NOT recommend doing that! However, it's grown on us -- especially the cats, although, if there is sunlight on their kitty towers, I don't think they care.

This area is very nice, but our lease is up in November -- hopefully the area's real estate bubble will pop by then so we can find a little condo in the area.

(This is Remus and Lloyd...our babies! )

Welcome to 'Washington to Washington'

2006-05-31T17:20:00.000-04:00

Washington to Washington

This is the story about my journey from Seattle, Washington to Washington, DC. My journey began in December, when my husband ('Odin') and I found out that he got a job in Washington, DC. For two Political Psychologists, moving to DC was a childhood dream come true. We both finished up our Master's dissertations a year ago, so we were primed to head over to the Nation's Capitol and make a difference.

We soon found out it wasn't the jobs that was hard to adjust to, (we both love what we both do) -- it was living on the east coast!

I hope you enjoy walking in my shoes as I take you through my Washington, DC.