how hot is it anyway?

It's hot in DC. It's not just warm, it's hot. It's "slap yo momma hot." If you've never heard that expression, it means: it's stupid hot. It's the kind of heat that makes stupid shit happen. After enjoying seven works (6 shorts & 1 long) at the the DC Film Festival, I noticed quite a few police officers. Outside of Gallery Place Theater there were tons of teenagers and more police. The air felt thick.

Continuing the walk to the metro, the police presence became more prevalent. I noticed the girls were dressed to the nines, but there was an interesting lack of heels being worn. These girls were dressed such that they looked good, and just in case someting would pop off, they were prepared for that too.

I continued walking through the crowd. A boy to my right, in a wanna be Soul-ja Boy outfit, started saying, "did someone just spit on me? I know I didn't just feel some water. I will go off." Sure you will, I thought. But you will agitate someone else to do something stupid.

I got to the metro entrance and the police had the entire place surrounded. When I walked upon the physical body perimeter, one female officer asked if I was trying to get to the metro, I shook my head yes. At the escalator entrance, I stopped another police officer and asked if there is always that much of a police presence in the area. He said they were only there because of the trouble that had happened in the prior two days. Interesting. Certainly explains all of the cops.

Once back in Dupont Circle, I noticed lightening in the distance. I hate lightening. It scares me. I rushed home. It was 9:30pm on a Saturday night, in a strange city, where I actually felt out of place. I really wanted to safety of my apartment. I didn't want to end up in the cemetary like my distant cousins who had been heat by lightening!