.07 miles is what my iPhone read when it told me how long it would take me to walk back to my hotel. It was wrong. Try like 1.5 miles. I’d told my partner to head back to the hotel, she was tired and I needed to go upstairs in the restaurant we were in to meet some old friends. These were friends that I had sold my former home to, that had since then resold it and moved to Capitol Hill to chase their political dream jobs.
Thank God my walk was in the best part of Washington D.C. a girl could ask for. When I took a left out of Marvin, I didn’t think twice. I couldn’t find my wallet, which is why I couldn’t go upstairs to meet my friend who was having his 37th birthday party. I had no ID and no cash. So I put my poker face on and walked like I owned the place. Typically, I would’ve been a bit scared, but it was a clean well-lit area with pubs, restaurants and perfect little stores. There were pedestrians everywhere, walking their Scotties and Yorkies in their converses and Lacoste Coats. So I felt pretty comfortable and quite enjoyed getting lost in both my mind and my direction.
When a little fear entered, I tried calling my husband, thinking he could protect me via cell phone if anyone jumped me. But he didn’t answer. So I called my friend Cookie, and she said if I veered two blocks over I could be stabbed to death. After my two glasses of wine, that only made me laugh. But only for a minute. I suddenly remembered the story my dad had told me about twenty years ago. He was driving through a bad part of DC and was at a red light and some guys walked up to his car, pulled a gun on him, and took all his money and his tools. But I was walking past a store called Reincarnations, with modern furniture and funky pillows, how could anything possibly go wrong? The cute little boutique restaurants were just begging for me to come in, and every other store was a home décor place or a Starbucks. And then I passed the chocolatier. I had died and gone to heaven.
These are things that I miss living in a small town. I love to just get lost somewhere, and wander aimlessly. Yes, I know, at ten o’clock at night in a big metropolis probably isn’t the ideal locale for that, but it was what it was, and it left me feeling braver and bolder than before. Some of you may laugh when reading about my big event for the night, but to a small town girl, it was an adventure…and I’m all about adventure, whether they be big or small.