I Went to the High Heel Drag Race and All I Got Was the Herp!...

Run Bitches, Run!

... and a flesh-colored dildo. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Let's start from the beginning: Back in August, within the first few minutes of meeting my friend and classmate Dana (back at the first cohort at J. Paul's) she asked if I would go to the High Heel Race with her. I'd never been (I missed it both times during DC 1.0), so I said sure, let's get a group together, it'll be fun. And suddenly the time has flown by and here we are, walking down P St in the rain on our way to 17th St. and the Drag Race.

Like everyone in my cohort, I'm feeling the heavy weight of schoolwork bearing down on my already beaten soul. I need to get somewhere in the 88% range on next Wednesday's Patho exam, and going out to watch a bunch of queens running in the rain ain't the way to do it. I'll study hard for this exam - in fact I've already been studying hard - but Christ on a Bike, I need a break every once in awhile.

There was a small group of us and we got to the Race around 7:30, which was enough time to get us 2nd row view in with a boisterous crowd, which helped make the time go by.

Participants were already parading up and down the street, including a group of TWAT crew members. The guy next to us kept yelling to the guy dressed as the captain, "Hey TWAT Pilot! Hey TWAT Pilot!" I'm still trying to figure out a way to incorporate Twat Pilot into my everyday vocabulary.

Later my friend Brady, dressed in some kind of "Cash for Clunkers" group costume (with a bunch of other guys from my swim team), came over to talk to me.

Brady: "You should be out here with us," he said.
Me: Umm, no thanks.
Brady: "Seriously. (To the group of people around me): Folks, don't you think he should be doing this? He'd be fabulous!"
Crowd around me: [... crickets ...]

Thanks, crowd. Seriously, I just can't win.

It was time for Brady to go, so he planted a big kiss on my lips. I turned to Dana:
Me: "Do I have lipstick on my face?"
Dana: "Yes. It kinda looks like you've got The Herp."

Radness. So I left it on for the rest of the event.

The race itself was over in about a minute. Is it worth it to stand out in the rain for 90 minutes just to see a one-minute race? Yep. I'll do it again next year.

At the same time, one of the queens running past began to lose parts of her costume, and a flesh-colored rubber dildo landed at our feet. Christ, if I had a dollar for every time a dildo was tossed in my direction...

Seeing a great photo opp, I picked it up and offered it to Dana, Caroline and Katie, thinking how funny it would be to get a shot of the three of them with the dildo. Of course, they were having none of that. But Dana and Caroline - those quick-witted minxes - snapped a few photos of me holding it. As did a few other people around me that I don't know. Sweet. Knowing there are photos of me out there holding a floppy, pinkish-tan dildo in public will keep me awake at night.

After the Race was over, we all went our separate ways. I knew the Red Line would be packed, so I decided to hoof it back to the Heights. As I walked back in the rain, I thought about how much fun the evening had been. I've been so stressed these last few weeks, and tonight I just felt so happy to be in DC. Everyone seemed to be out, being friendly and agreeable and I thought this is when I like this city best. I also thought about the people I've been making friends with, and how much I enjoy spending time with them, and I'm feeling like everything is going to be OK.

Sure, these feelings will likely be re-replaced tomorrow with stress, doom and gloom, but tonight all is right with the world.

Save Me From Myself

The first week of school is over, and like any undergrad I celebrated by attending a party, thrown by a fellow classmate. Brian, Marshall, Emily and I arrived after 10, sans alcohol (did you know alcohol can't be purchased in this city after 10 pm?? Did I somehow block this out of my memory from the first time I lived here?), which we felt self-conscious about but by then our host was too blitzed to notice.

I played DJ (Adi: "You are the worst DJ. Ever.") for awhile in the dining room, smartly avoiding the living room drinking games (part of my downfall last Friday) and staying pretty much sober the entire time.  My hat got passed around and became the next in what is now becoming a long line of ABSN casualties (along with expensive beers, LaToya #1 and perhaps my dignity). And Adi and I continued work on the Cohort Handshake (still in beta, although John is now involved and is taking it to a new, respectable level). 

And supposedly a Cohort Theme Song is next - I'm going to push for Bluejuice's Vitriol ("Good luck and don't dare give up, Give it a little bit of vitriol! And if it's really gonna cut you up give it a little bit of vitriol - HEY!"). But the truth is nobody would likely get it and I'd just be an idiot. 

There's talk of a cohort field trip to a DC Rollergirls match in about 3 weeks, an Ultimate Frisbee league, a Touch Football game on Thanksgiving morning, and a kayaking trip around Roosevelt Island. Man, we are an optimistic bunch. I say: let's check back in a month to see just ow well that frisbee league is shaping up.

And speaking of Roosevelt, as she was leaving, Dana told me I looked like Teddy Roosevelt.

I'm acutely aware of my age (and now some others are too) and the fact that I'm now choosing beer pong and vodka shots over more age-appropriate things like, well, not playing beer pong and not doing vodka shots. But I went to bed at 10 last Saturday, so that should count for something, right? Oh, and then there's that whole studying thing, which is also a good idea since I did squat of it this week.

But still, once we left the party me, John, Emily and Meredith stood outside on New Hampshire and talked for about an hour under the bright full moon (the weather these last few days has been remarkable), so this can't be all bad. I figure it is probably worth it to invest some time in the cohort. Not everything we should know to survive can be learned in the classroom.

I Like it in the City When the Air is So Thick and Opaque

Riding my bike home from Glover Park tonight around one a.m., I am drunk without a helmet and I am speeding because it is almost all totally downhill and the night air is thick and fragrant and heavy and kinda sweet in a bread-ish way, and suddenly Adele's "Hometown Glory" pops into my head and I think: This is Perfect; and I let Wendell and myself wander past the wrong side of the yellow lines on P Street and again on Mass Ave., and I think this is truly Wonderful (with a capital "W") despite the fact that just minutes ago I lost my beautiful camera, which is missing, lost somewhere around or in Gin and Tonic, and Goddammit I'm not even drunk and I somehow let this happen... 

This is supposed to be an entry about my first impressions of some of my cohorts, whom I met this afternoon for Happy Hour at J Paul's (or some shit like that). It went well, and afterwards we went back to Jeff & Katie's place for more drinks and the inevitable drinking games, where I texted Mark to say: "I am at a party after my cohort mixer, about to do drinking games. Christ. This is either going to be the best sixteen months of my life, or the worst."

Christ, I need a donut. But instead I will go to bed. But goddamn a donut would be so nice right now...

Seriously....