Rush Hour

One thing that I will likely not be getting away from in San Francisco that I deal with every day in DC is a ridiculous commute to work. I have accepted the fact that as a software consultant, I will probably never find a job right in the city. The tech companies always go for the low rent somewhere in the suburbs. And I have also accepted that there is no such thing as a reverse commute. Really. It doesn't exist.

So I have learned to deal with the fact that it often takes 60 minutes to drive 15 miles. I spend my time in the car talking on the phone or to myself. I listen and yell at NPR. I have even lost my voice once or twice from screaming at other drivers inbetween singing too loudly. I have developed my favorite stretches of road so that I can look forward to parts of the drive: curves on the Toll Road, the Lincoln Memorial while I cross the Roosevelt Bridge, a view of the Georgetown Waterfront while I drive under the Kennedy Center and by the Watergate Building.

Normally, the thought of visiting the Georgetown Waterfront for drinks makes me wince. It was a favorite when we were 22 - awful that I talk as if 22 were decades ago - but we've grown up and learned $7 Miller Lites are nothing to get excited about. But on tonight's drive home I saw me at 22 at the Waterfront drinking at Tony and Joe's. And I saw me there with all the friends I hadn't yet really be-friended. My new roommate, who I so badly wanted to become a new best friend. The guy from college I didn't really know, but knew I couldn't stand. And everyone else - who seemed so nice but who just weren't like the people I hung out with in college.

She did become one of my best friends. He became a pretty good one too. And the others became my crowd of friends from DC. It doesn't matter how we first met. They will always define this city for me. Happy Hours at Ballroom and nights at Angry Inch. Brunches and Birthday Parties. Trips to Mario's and Pizza Mart. Half Price Burgers at Whitlows and Chadwicks. French Toast and Omellettes at The Diner. Cramming into the TV room to watch the O.C. in High Def or lying on the couch watching Father of the Bride to cure each and every hangover.

And today, the first time since I decided to move, I cried, while staring at The Waterfront, driving on the Rock Creek Parkway. I got wrapped up in all the fun they are going to have without me once I'm gone. And I got jealous and really sad. And then I nearly died while navigating the curve near the P Street exit, so pulled myself together and got a grip.

I am NOT going to miss this commute.