Something to Think About

Next time you hear about something like this, I want you to think, "Gee, that's only 5 or 6 blocks from Mazzie's house!" A thought which will hopefully soon be followed by "Gee, I hope Mazzie is okay!"
The next couplafew days, especially.
Don't worry too much, though. Most of my neighborhood is on lockdown. I'll consider myself lucky to be allowed to roam beyond my front door tomorrow.
At least I'm paying for the security that's keeping me off the streets.

Roe Speaks Up

Aw crap.

"WASHINGTON - The woman once known as "Jane Roe" has asked the Supreme Court to overturn its landmark Supreme Court decision that legalized abortion 32 years ago."

City Under Seige

After spending a day or two with F-16 flyovers, barricades on sidewalks, increased police presence on the metro and the streets, and the day after a man in a van threatens to blow himself to Jesus and back 5 blocks from my house, it would be nice to have some warning about fireworks within window-shaking distance.
Okay, I was warned. I knew there would be pre-inaugural fireworks at the Ellipse. However, I really did think they were the explanation behind the boom immediately following the 5pm-ish flyover.
At 6 o'clock I was shopping in Rite Aid on 15th and L (the same one that was robbed right before the holidays, where the service is so bad I suspected that the gunman was a disgruntled customer) when I felt the concussive blows under my feet and heard the windows rattle. I stopped in the aisle and noticed that the usual overhead muzak wasn't even playing and waited for another blow.
It came.
Boom!
Rumble rumble rumble.
Boom!
I eyed the mousy blond in the same aisle, hiding under a too-big knit hat, frozen in place, staring at the shaking floor.
BOOM!
She dropped what was in her hands and stared at me.
I said, my voice cracking, "Fireworks, right?" and she turned on her heel, a small pile of cookies an makeup left behind her, and dashed to the front of the store.
I held on to my hair gel and Pringles, trying to assure myself that it was just fireworks, and thinking still "Aw crap, I'm gonna fucking die in fucking Rite Aid."
At the front of the store, two clerks with heavy coats over their blue smocks came in from outside. They were speaking to each other in a language I didn't know, but they were smiling.
Mousy blond forwarded my earlier inquiry. "Fireworks, right?"
The clerks continued their conversation with each other in English, complaining that they couldn't really see them from the street.
Mousy and I exchanged a few uncomfortable jokes about dying in Rite Aid while I paid for my hair gel and Pringles. The booms outside continued to shake us.
As I walked out onto the street I looked back over my shoulder, towards the Ellipse, and saw smoke. My heart, still pounding, skipped a beat before the smoke illuminated with a burst of green, familiar from many Independence Days.
I headed toward home, still baffled. The explosions continued to rattle my ribcage and the bright, colorful bursts reflected in the windows of the buildings in front of me only offered irritation and slight consolation.
As I write this I can hear helicopter propeller blades chopping at the air above my neighborhood. I sit on my couch, under a down comforter, ice cubes rattling in my bourbon glass, waiting to see (or hear) what's next.