I love D.C. I love that its people are on average more ambitious, more intelligent, and better looking than most anywhere else. I love the budding shoots of hip restaurants, bars and stores that randomly spring up in the least likely of places. I love the variety of neighborhoods, from the frat boy veneer of Georgetown to the blipsters in the atlas district. I love my neighborhood Capitol Hill. I love that I’m in walking distance to a baseball stadium, boatyard and multiple butchers. I love that d.c. has one of the highest densities of bloggers per square inch of just about anywhere east of silicon valley. (and maybe anywhere). I love that d.c. is not NYC. I love seeing minor political celebrities at my drycleaners (Donna Brazile, in case you were wondering) and waiting for a cab on a corner. I love the homeless guy with the most booming, mellifluous voice you have ever heard hawking Street Sense in front of my metro stop. I love seeing the Capitol lit up on a cold January night as I stroll by Yes! Organic Market. I love the half naked office workers splayed out in dupont circle soaking in sun, eating lunch and just listening to the beat of our city in the middle of a sizzling hot and oppressively humid August day. I love the incredible power the words on the wall of the Lincoln Memorial never cease to hold over me every single time I visit. I love the tourists so hepped up on patriotism and wonderment that they are nearly bursting out of their “Love It or Leave It” t-shirts. I love being on the metro with a navy colonel, fresh out of college congressional staff assistant, mom with three kids under five and elderly tourists from Topeka all at the same time. I love the political broth in which our entire city stews. Sure it’s not perfect, but, as they say, true love is loving even the quirks and imperfections. I can proudly and truly say that I love D.C.
