There was this odd booming sound coming from our right.
My friend R.W. and I were walking past the Capitol. It was past 10pm and there are few streetlights. It was very dark. Ahead of us, framed by buildings and trees, was the lit-up Washington Monument.
“Is that thunder?” I asked.
“No,” she replied.
It actually kind of sounded like gunfire.
I, and a number of others, had been out across from Eastern Market (the actual building, not the Metro station) a few blocks away celebrating two friends who are relocating to Baltimore City next weekend. I had been expecting to get out to Capitol Hill by 3, with works closing at 2:30 for the holiday weekend, but things being what things are, I wound up stuck at my desk until 4. $2 Yuenglings? I really couldn’t complain.
People came, people left money for the tab, people left. The check itself was a clusterfuck (thank goodness I brought cash!) and our server got a $120 tip on $290.
Finally it was time to leave. A cab was flagged for our Baltimore bound friends, and people made their way home on foot, by bus, or by train. I volunteered to walk R.W. most of the way home by Waterfront — I would detour to the blue line once we were in that quadrant.
“Oh, look!” R.W. said, pointing south as we came down the hill and had an unobstructed view of Nationals Park. The weird booming echoing sound were fireworks detonating over the stadium, celebrating a New York Mets’ victory. (That’s weird, right?)
R.W. and I parted company, she heading south for home, me walking a block east to Federal Center SW. I waited a few minutes and got on an empty Metro car. It filled with baseball fans at the next station.
It rolled on.