Remember all that talk on the night of our engagement about how I really liked DC and will always have fond memories of living here?
That’s mostly true, although the luster has rapidly faded as of late—or more specifically, late last night, as I fretted about D’s whereabouts.
Fill your head with all the predictable cliches and scary scenarios. Your love is late. You check the time stamp on his “walking home” email and confirm that he is, indeed, way past due. Call his cell; get voicemail. Send to emails to Blackberry; messages unanswered.
Pace apartment thinking about:
- How your love makes fun of your paranoia and maybe you should calm down
- How cranky you were around him that morning because you didn’t want to go to work
- How your life might be about to change for the worse
Say the f-word, pray, check messages, pick up phone to call the police. Rehearse what to say in your head so the police take you seriously.
I never made the 911 call. As soon as I slid my iPhone into action, it rang with an unknown number. It was D, with noise in the background, asking me to let him into our front gate.
I hung up on him without asking any questions went outside where he showed up a minute later slightly ashen and full of apologies for being late.
As you’ve probably guessed (or perhaps read on Twitter), D was robbed at gunpoint by two men, three blocks from our apartment. With large credit to D, the two men were arrested a short time later. D identified them from the safety of a detective’s car and they have since been charged with two counts of armed robbery. (It seems they robbed some other poor guy before getting to D.)
While my tears seem to have subsided, I’ve had a good deal of anger today.* I’ve treated just about every person on the street like a grade-A a*shole, stopping short of verbal abuse and pistol-whipping (with my SIGG), and have been anti-social at work.
I never figured myself as an eye-for-an-eye kind of gal (a rational person would tell you that acts of revenge, 1. are counter to taking the high road; 2. merely perpetuate the cycle of unacceptable societal behaviors and/or 3. ) could get me in a whole heap of trouble), but I just want to light these motherf*ckers up with the power of a thousand suns for being so ignorant** and inhumane.
So, yeah. Right now? I hate DC. Right now I’ll cop to the fact that this the District is a sham for a nation’s capital, with soaring AIDS rates, some of the worst public schools in the country, a corrupt city government, and yes—an atrocious crime rate.
As one of D’s bosses said last night, “We all choose our communities.” And maybe I should have let D move me out to Virginia. I hear it’s for lovers, after all. Which I also take to mean that it’s not for thugs.
*In addition to being mad, I’m clinging to D like white on rice. D’s coworker (also a close mutual friend) watched him like a hawk all day and sent me email updates on his disposition. I required departure and arrival messages and have instituted a bit of a curfew for running/walking home. Yes, D now has a nagging, worrying, almost-wife.
**The irony is not lost on us that D was robbed the same night Obama gave his big speech on the importance of education. One of D’s assailants was a minor.