“It’s just another day, for you and me, in paradise…”


When I think back to how I used to refer to San Diego as “the epicenter of hell,” usually to the shock and/or genuine confusion of anyone who listened, the phrase now seems more of a loving epithet than anything else. Sure it felt like hell to live there, but now that I have relocated myself to the district, my special nickname for San Diego seems, well, a tad bit hyperbolic.

I think this because I have lately discovered a whole new version of hell right here in our nation’s capital. Now, anyone who knows me personally will attest to my occasional fondness for extravagant exaggeration, but there are some things that are difficult to exaggerate. The seething hostility and frustration of Washington’s residents is one of them.

More generally, I have found one thing to be true of most people living in a Western culture; that is, about 3.28 percent of the general population is actively engaged in living a meaningful life while the other 96.72 percent are just “floaters.” Floaters are similar to amoebas in the sense that they are non-thinking bits of biological mass that evolve on the basis of the passage of time only.

Floaters in San Diego are usually characterized by a simple ambivalence; “You may or may not exist but who cares? I’m shopping.” DC floaters have the added quality of being openly hostile. They are more likely to say, “Get out of my way or I will shoot you.”

Given this new information, I have decided to adopt a system of classification that will help convey the relative hellishness of each new place I experience. For example, if San Diego corresponds roughly to, say, the fourth circle of hell (reserved for those who are greedy and/or indulgent), then Washington might be closer to the eighth circle of hell.

Specifically, Washington residents might be sent to the second ditch of the eighth circle of hell, where flatterers are steeped in human excrement. Or maybe ditch five, where corrupt politicians are trapped in a lake of burning pitch. The permutations are unlimited and can be fun to imagine. The point is if San Diego is the fourth circle of hell, then DC is at least the eighth.




PS

Today easily earns the designation “The Hottest Most Miserable Walk to Work So Far This Year.” Only ten minutes into my 40-minute commute, I was already breaking a full sweat and it was clear that others around me were also suffering. By the time I turned the corner to Mass Ave, I might as well have been picking cotton in the Deep South, only without all the benefits.