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Sundays in the City

Massive crush of ruthless commuters. Relentless wail of sirens. Plethora of seemingly sharpened elbows, carelessly swung briefcases and irritatingly rude people.
That's Monday through Friday.
But Sundays are different in D.C.

Getting up and at 'em in the morning sometimes brings a momentary feeling of dread.
I'll have to hurry up, get up, get ready, dash to the bus stop, look at my watch a dozen times in 10 minutes, hustle on to the bus, jump off and join the rush-hour crowd for the final sprint to the office.
More than one person I've come across here has referred to "the rat race." I guess that must be the feeling sometimes that you're one of thousands scrambling for the cheese.
The truth is, the energy of the D.C. is exhilirating.
I love being able to turn my head once and see dozens of people of all races and creeds, dressed to kill or to thrill and speaking a quartet of languages. It's fascinating to see what they do and say, and they're rarely rude actually.
The worst incident I've seen was near Dupont Circle when a passenger jumped out of a cab and screamed profanities at another cab that was blocking the street.
Of course, my relatives from Texas were down for the week, and they saw the whole confrontation. But that's not business as usual in Northwest D.C.
There are days -- often Monday -- that I'd just as soon skip the whole rush, rush, rush thing.
Maybe that's because I've just had a D.C. Sunday.
Sundays are the days when the subway cars are often nearly empty. Stores aren't crowded. Relaxation is written on every face bent over a newspaper at the Cosi near the Dupont Station South Metro Station. And an afternoon indie movie at the Dupont is just a few steps away.
It seems like even the leaves on the trees relax and take a breather.
The biggest crowd is at the farmers market at Dupont Circle where yuppies, students and interns line up for everything from fresh goat's cheese to orange, yellow and purple gladiolas plopped in buckets of water.
I tell myself it's OK to walk slower. I have to do this several times a day on Sundays.
If I have to go downtown to grab something at the office, I notice the streets are blissfully empty, and I might duck into a news stand on Farragut Square with papers from all over and magazines galore.
That's heaven.
If the sun is out, the bums in the park drowse on benches while pigeons scour the ground underneath them for crumbs.
Adults and children sit on blankets with ice chests nearby.
Everyone's gotten a time out from the rat race -- at least for Sunday.

Posted by Trish Choate at 04:23 PM | Permalink