Cocooning
Virginia
(DC Suburbs)
After a month with no permanent address in New York, I am cocooning at my sister's house in northern Virginia.
Went out last night with my sisters, their husbands and my nieces and nephews to a typically lousy chain (I'm guessing) restaurant in a strip mall off a suburban highway. Place is known for their chili, I was told. After eating it, I can only guess that what's known is that the chili is bad.
Night before I went right from the cheap Chinatown bus I took to DC to the Orange Line of the DC Metro to the Metro's Vienna stop (closest to my sister but still not close) and then, bypassing my sister's house entirely, to the movies with my teenage nephew and his wholesome, all-American friends (one of whom is a Palestinian -- that's what being All-American is all about!).
Barrelin' through the Reston Town Center (it's a shopping mall), with the boys behind me, I felt like I was the (nominally) adult leader of a gang of criminal adolescents. I nicknamed them the "Pancake House Gang" and spoke of our inevitable battles with adversaries, the "Waffle House Gang" and the "Steak House Gang". They loved me, of course.
We saw "Borat". It was good.
More later,
Andrew
(DC Suburbs)
After a month with no permanent address in New York, I am cocooning at my sister's house in northern Virginia.
Went out last night with my sisters, their husbands and my nieces and nephews to a typically lousy chain (I'm guessing) restaurant in a strip mall off a suburban highway. Place is known for their chili, I was told. After eating it, I can only guess that what's known is that the chili is bad.
Night before I went right from the cheap Chinatown bus I took to DC to the Orange Line of the DC Metro to the Metro's Vienna stop (closest to my sister but still not close) and then, bypassing my sister's house entirely, to the movies with my teenage nephew and his wholesome, all-American friends (one of whom is a Palestinian -- that's what being All-American is all about!).
Barrelin' through the Reston Town Center (it's a shopping mall), with the boys behind me, I felt like I was the (nominally) adult leader of a gang of criminal adolescents. I nicknamed them the "Pancake House Gang" and spoke of our inevitable battles with adversaries, the "Waffle House Gang" and the "Steak House Gang". They loved me, of course.
We saw "Borat". It was good.
More later,
Andrew
posted by Andrew J. Lederer at 1:47 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home