Dupont Circle is iconic Washington, DC. Woebegone tourists have driven around it countless times; every area photographer worth an F-Stop has shot images of it; and on a perfect late spring evening all manner of life in the city can and will find intersection there.
I have fallen in love there when a woman crossed her leg against mine and decided that her ankle resting atop my leg was its natural place, had spontaneous picnics there, and filled more hours than I can recall with competitive people watching there.
This particular perfect Monday I met some people there, and learned a few lessons too. These are those stories (cue Law & Order chimes.)
Tony is short of teeth, sports immaculately polished black lace-ups, and has a well worn acoustic guitar that he plays with virtuosic skill. Over the course of at least two hours he went from Brazilian rhythms that conjured images of caipirinhas to old Sade songs and scores of things between. My friend Dennis and I couldn’t contain our glee at getting this free concert for which we both offered Tony money but he insisted that our gratitude was ample payment.
Amy, cherubic of face, and crimson of hair was possessed with the excitement only those who don’t yet know words can convey. She danced and sang and waved at everyone within her sight. I never would want to bend an elbow with some who is capable of not smiling in her presence.
Jack, Amy’s “Pa-Pa,” has grandparental pride that is palpable, and inescapable. At least 80 years on this earth, still fit and possessing a full head of shockingly white hair, there is nothing about him that makes me think he still couldn’t kick some young guy’s ass like the old Marine that he is. Thanks for your service Gunny.
Christian Loubutin shoes are gorgeous, elegant, expensive, wearable works of art, but aren’t worth a plug nickel if you don’t know how to walk in them.
There comes an age after which all women should retire hot pink from their wardrobe.
Ice cream cones after dinner are splendid way to end a date.
Among the best reasons to wear a brim (baseball caps are not brims) is that one cannot tip a hat without wearing a hat.
The guy from the six flags commercials has a doppelganger and apparently likes to cruise the circle for younger men.
There is no amount of hotness that can help me get over my lack of attraction for women in dress shorts.
The former also applies to women with “accessory” dogs.
Euro Hipsters in circulation-restricting black pants must smoke a minimum of one Galois cigarettes per eight minutes.
If I sit long enough in any location in the city, I will cross paths with someone I have dated.
As Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent,” similarly, no one can give you a compliment without your assistance.
People who drive convertibles but leave the top prone on days like this ought to have their vehicles repossessed by the Fun Police.
Very few joys are the equal of the simple ones.
Posted by restaurant refugee 
