Yesterday started off lovely. I walked to the yoga studio at around noon to take the 1 p.m. class. I took some pictures along the way. D.C. in the springtime is really quite lovely. I’ll get out more this year, try and soak up the images around town before we move someplace else.
Here is the wall on 14th Street behind Rice. I enjoy this wall. I have no idea why. It borders and empty lot, prime real estate, I’m not sure it will be around for much longer.
Here it is again. A wall. Joy.
Here is a picture of some tulips. These were by far the reddest tulips on the block. The begged me to take a picture.
After class, Amy, Kyra and I went out for some eats. And like any good yogi does after working out, I ordered a Yeungling. This is where my night began. Mind you, it was only 3 p.m. After we ate, Kyra headed home and Amy and proceeded on through Adam’s morgan. We ended up at L’Enfant. This is a picture Amy took of a girl at the cafe. She was reading the menu.
Here is a tree outside the cafe. Amy took this one as well. She’s a photographer. She creates magic when behind a lens.
We continued to drink. I had two more beers there.
We paid our bill. And she suggested we head up to the Toledo lounge where we continued to drink beer. Later, we were to meet TobyJoe and Mike for dinner. I was already pretty sauced by the time we met them.
We went to the Rumba Cafe where we ordered Mojitos. Mojitos are evil. The devil makes them. (Because of this picture, TobyJoe shaved.) We sat there forever. Our food wasn’t coming. So I got it in my head to cancel the order and head across the street for Tapas at Anzu.
At Anzu, we ordered and the food actually came. The wine did as well. We polished off two bottles. At some point in the evening-
operating under the false pretense that everyone not only watched Full Metal Jacket a hundred times like I had, but were also able to quote said masterpiece on call-I said to the waiter:
I like you! You can come over and fuck my sister.
Everyone laughed but no one at the table had ever heard the line before. And judging by the disappearing act our waiter pulled, he hadn’t ever heard it either.
But this was after he took our picture.
But the chef came out. Maybe he wanted to have my sister.
Toby and I must send Mike a check, because he must have spent a fortune on that meal. He knows we’re good for it. Plus, he knows where we live.
Oy, me head.