Don't worry, folks - all is well in our nation's capital. I took an impromptu trip just to check up on those six-semester lunatics, and it seems they're surviving - although, how, I have no idea. Perhaps the constant-flowing bevvies have something to do with it... And the sustenance from the fantastic pot lucks.

This night began at a lively Mexican restaurant featuring very large pitchers of sangria, turned into a D.C. dive-bar fiesta (the place was so laden with obnoxious frat/sorority kids I was close to sticking several of them in the eyes with a dart), and then somehow dwindled to a nightcap at the ridiculous local gay bar (it seemed like a good idea at the time) - which looked like it was once a Mexican restaurant, meaning the night pretty much came full circle. Only by the end, AG and Paulo and the seedy couples around us were all fuzzy-looking.

I've been to D.C. once before, as a pre-adolescent brat who made my parents' lives hell for four days. This time around, I found it to be a lovely city, and not as intimidating as I had imagined it. The buildings and downtown area are so beautiful, so stately (I guess that's probably the look they were going for, so two thumbs up). And it's so clean compared to here. I felt a smidge of disappointment that I did not face my fears and write from there. Oh well - I got to drink like a government reporter, while avoiding that whole deadline-responsibility thing, so that was nice.

What was not nice was my Chinatown bus adventure. The way down went smoothly - got there, got on the first bus I saw, and it took me straight to D.C. Leave Chinatown, four hours later you're in Chinatown - it's like you didn't really go anywhere at all.

The way home was a different matter - the 1pm bus left at 12:30 (when the hell does that ever happen?). The 2pm bus didn't show. The 4pm bus turned into the 5pm bus, meaning I didn't get home til nearly 10pm. Fantastic. But I made some good friends - including some in high places, which is nice.

Being around grad school buddies may have set it off, but yesterday I felt this panging sorrowful longing for Chicago. I like it here, but I'm not sure I'll ever love this city as much as I love Chicago. Today, though, walking around in circles after leaving friends at a Hell's Kitchen gay lounge (post-dinner, post-Broadway show), trying to simulateously purge Britney Spears out of my head and find a local subway stop (ha, I almost said "El"), I thought again, I don't regret this decision at all. Chicago will still be there when I'm ready to go back.