I will tell you a story. In this place, I had the best of times and made the best of friends. There were epic Happy Hours that started at 5:00 P.M. and ended at 5:00 AM. In this place I went to my first pig roast, a feast that will never be matched.
I ate in basements serving up the best Thai Food to be had in the district. I ate in places where I thought I might get Ebola and places where my shoes stuck to the floor. I danced into the wee hours of the morning stumbling into Amsterdam falaffel for morning snacks.
I’ve rolled out of the bed for Mussels at Grandville Moores and had ramen all across town: Toki Underground, Dikayia, and Sakuramen. I’ve popped squats on curb to chomp on Julia’s Empanadas in Dupont Circle. I went on grand adventures to each Chinese food in Rockville and to track down soup dumplings.
I have eaten Indian food until I had to unbutton my pants and until curry seeped out of my pores: I heart thee Tiffin. I have developed the perfect Pho combination at the most perfect pho spot (Pho 75 – No.6 = tendon, flank stead, and rare sirloin).
I have tried and failed to find the perfect taco and fallen back on the tried and true tacos that I make myself at home.
I redeemed my gardening skills (last year was embarrassing). This year I had tomatoes on every plant. I got into farm living and realized that good things happen outside the city. I picked food and created masterpieces both simple and complex over open flames.
I have been to celebrations of pork that lasted for hours, where I ate swine in both epic and embarrassing proportions – on more than one occasion. I’ve had brunches that never ended. They simply started when i got out of bed and went until the evening Dance Party. I’ve danced in gardens at open air art galleries and drunk German beer in beer gardens. I’ve had sushi meals that lasted from the time the restaurant opened until they asked us to leave: I’m not proud (secretly I am).
I’ve attended BBQs with delicate perfectly seasoned ribs falling off the bone and honey butter drenched cheesy cornbread that seemed touched by the hand of God himself (well done Curtis, dad would have been proud).
I have had some questionable times in Adam’s Morgan and Dupont Circle and H Street and at the Lincoln Memorial (SMDH). I get down on my knees every morning and thank the Gods of the internet that there is no digital evidence of any of my escapades (knock on wood) and that the memory of my friends is somewhat fleeting.
I have astounded people with my 3 main fallback dishes: guacamole, mac & cheese, and gumbo.I have smoked hookah at all hours of the morning and watched scary movies and played arcade games and gone to concerts. I have eaten beef ribs the size of my arms, while watching the Nationals almost win. I saw my favorite artists kill it in a concert: Fierce Emile Sande & Imagine Dragons.
I have served my existing addictions and formed a few new ones. I have loved, and laughed, and cried, and danced with the best of people in the best of times. I have marked milestone after milestone: the birth of my niece, the death of my father, the first pregnancy of one of my dearest friends. I have made friends and with the making of friends one constant is always true: it’s not where you are, but who you’re with that makes an ordinary event truly epic. And there are times, when you think that nothing is happening and then looking back, everything was happening all at once. And even though I am on my own now, there is a freedom and adventure to learning a new place, seeing a new city, having new experiences, and making new friends. So in parting, Goodbye D.C. I love you, I miss you, and perhaps after my travels I will find my way home. Until we meet again. As my dad would have said, “It’s been good ya’ll”, (drop the microphone, exit the stage).