So this post was originally going to be a very different one. It was going to be about my night out in Hampton Roads, Virginia and my experience of seeing Dead & Co live for the first time. I was going to describe the crowds, the music, the vibe in intimate detail. Ultimately it would have been an illustration on the power of rock and roll laid out for you, dear readers.
But that did not happen. Victims of circumstance, my friend Hans and I were waylaid by the simple fact that he could not get a dog-sitter for the weekend. A few long, frenzied messages later, we decided to nix our Dead plans and that I would just come down for the weekend to hang out.
I headed down Friday afternoon to Arlington, Virginia where my friend Hans lives. Arlington, Virginia is just across the Potomac River from DC, and it’s basically as close as you can get to DC without actually being in DC. He lives in an area called Shirlington Village, a modern little walking mall lined with bars, cafes, restaurants, a theatre, and a market. It is also surrounded by apartment buildings and townhomes, and a well-serviced bus stop. It is a bit artificial for sure, but it was pretty cute, dog-friendly, and although the only coffee shop was just a Peet’s, at least it wasn’t a Starbucks.
Hans is undoubtedly one of my best and oldest friends. We’ve known each other since middle school, I had the last H surname in our class and he the first I, so our lockers were always side-by-side. But lucky for me, there are a few other friends living in the area. Ian, who lives right in DC, was going to see a show that night at U Street Music Hall, and we decided to tag along. We Ubered in, and to my surprise, they had pulled a Parent Trap on me. Our friend Derek who lives in Richmond, VA was visiting too! Neither Derek nor I knew we would be seeing one another, so we were both thrilled. One bottle of champagne and a few hard non-White Claw seltzers later, we walked to grab a quick supper at Chicken+Whiskey and headed to the show. I had never listened to the headliner, Abhi the Nomad, before, but we danced, took some tequila shots at my request, and enjoyed the music. After the show, we walked back to Ian’s for a few more drinks, before Ubering home where we continued drinking and jammed on the ukulele and guitar until nearly 3AM.
The next day started…slowly. Between a bottle of wine, two bottles of champagne, who knows how many seltzers, two Harp lagers, and a few hours of sleep on an air mattress, I was feeling worse for wear. We took our time cleaning up, getting breakfast, and most importantly: hydrating. I had been eager to go to the the National Museum of African American History, the newest Smithsonian which opened a bit over three years ago. We took an Uber back across the river and got dropped off right in front, but both of us were just hungover enough that the thought of trying to be awake and aware was daunting. It was a crisp day with a blue sky, so we decided to walk around a bit before going in.
I grew up in Western Maryland, about 130 miles northwest of DC. I had gone on a few field trips to DC through grade and high school, but I had never really gone as an adult. And as an adult, I hadn’t had much interest. I was busy with college and then moved out west for five years. While I did stop on my way back from Colorado, it was only two nights and one full day. It was the last two nights of a 2,000-mile road trip so we took it easy. We went to the Spy Museum on that day, which is 100% worth a visit but a bit on the pricey side with a $27 entry fee.
But I also felt that not visiting DC was some sort of boycott of the United States government and highlighted its flaws in representing and working for We the People. Not acknowledging the pompous and ostentatious home of the equally pompous and ostentatious President #45 was somehow an act of resistance.
Ten years ago, I did not have the attention span to be invested. This visit was a lot different than ten years ago. For a city with the amount of money, history, and influence as DC, it is a surprisingly low-profile city. Clean lined and balanced, squat buildings adorn the streets around the National Mall. What’s more, commercial airlines routinely swoop low behind the Lincoln Memorial, never ceasing to remind one of the meshes of modern and historical there. John Adams was the first president to live in the White House in 1800, but every president since Adams has called it home for some amount of time. The Capitol Building looms in the distance behind the Washington Monument, and legislative decisions are made there today just as they were 219 years ago.
We stopped along the way at the World War II memorial. I read a quote by Harry Truman about not forgetting our allies and the gravity of their sacrifices. I was reminded of our abandonment of our Kurdish allies in Syria and was ashamed. We continued to the Lincoln Memorial. If you’ve never been to the Lincoln Memorial before, the sheer size of it can astound you. Hans made a poignant observation while we looked around: it is likely that the deeper meaning of any of the monuments or the significance of the US military and cultural history is utterly lost on the current president. It was sad to think about, but it was an observation that struck me at my core. When I was little, I didn’t have the academic interest in DC that I have now, but more importantly, I did not have the political knowledge. There are two elements at work in DC: the history of the US and the realities of the political timeline we live in. One relies upon the other, and are completely inseparable. Ultimately, I am glad I went to the Mall and re-introduced myself to it.
From here, we circled back to the museum. Now, all the Smithsonians are free, but I think this one, in particular, should be at the top of everyone’s list. The stunningly beautiful building designed by the Freelon Adjaye Bond/SmithGroup looks like its covered in reeds and vines. It’s a sharp and knowing contrast to the marble and limestone fronted buildings surrounding it. These ornate grills were intended to be made of bronze, but due to costs were changed to bronze-painted aluminum. The illuminating effect of bronze would be lost in this way, and eventually, a coating called PVDF was decided upon. Construction began in February 2012 and ended in April 2014. It opened in September 2016 with a dedication ceremony conducted by President Barack Obama.
The interiors were spacious and lofty where the outside seemed dense and compact. We followed the crowds down to the lowest concourse where we began the exhibit in the fifteenth century and moved forward in time from there. The Age of Discovery, early slave trade, slavery in the US, abolition, the Civil War, civil rights, activism, art, and social movements were all covered and discussed. It took us nearly three hours just to get back to the ground floor. Some of it was hard to read. You are repeatedly reminded of the hateful, selfish, and jealous natures of man. On the other hand, it was exciting to see the number of people there. It was packed! In 2018, 1.9 million people visited the museum! My sincerest hope is that millions more will visit to learn African American history.
We went back to Arlington to let Charlie out, make some dinner (I made a big ol’ tray of nachos), and watch the live stream of the Dead & Co concert. Although I was extremely bummed that we didn’t get to go, the live stream was a pretty darn decent substitute for the real deal. They play so well together and the whole vibe of the concert made me feel really great about that day. Because despite the harsh realities I was reminded of at the Mall, at that concert I saw people of all ages, races, and cultures singing along together.
Nine mile skid on a ten mile ride, hot as a pistol but cool inside
Cat on a tin roof, dogs in a pile
Nothin left to do but smile, smile, smile
Hell, I guess this turned into a post about the power of rock and roll after all.
Punk Prana 