First it wasn't raining, then it was. I rode most of the way un-rained upon, but right after crossing into Arlington, I was beset by droplets and I met them by turning on my lights and not by putting on my jacket, which was ultimately a bad decision, but so it goes.
But before we get to that part of the story, the damp part, I rode through the District of Columbia in the quadrant to the north and the west of the Capitol and within the wards Three and Two respectively (and respectfully).
On 34th, I was met with a "Don't get run over by the bike, Dan" said by whom I presume was a Georgetown freshman to another Georgetown freshman (Dan) as they ambled across the street in the general vicinity of my path, but really nowhere near where I was inching my bike. The warner, not Dan, looked like he would have a Futurama poster on his dorm wall. He said thanks as he and his female compatriot crossed the street in front of me, as had Dan a few seconds earlier. The funny thing about warning your friends about being run over by "bikes" is that it's really not the "bikes," but rather the bicyclists one should warn about. Unlike a driver, I lack a windshield to protect me from inane commentary and so it's rather awkward to be met by shouters because it's, at the end of the day, just me and some randos standing there, looking at each other, dealing with the fact that one of them shouted something about me and my willingness to bring one of them harm through the misuse and poor handling of my vehicle.
And even before this, I was met by a flashing red light at the intersection of Nebraska and New Mexico and only made it across the street thanks to some kind drivers allowing pedestrians to cross and during this time I was able to make my bike across the intersection about 10 metres (per terms of bike blogging, all distances much be rendered as snootily as possible) down the road. Thank you kindly, drivers. I'll try not to disparage you, unless of course you do something disparagable (probably not a word) and even then, I'll do my best not to generalize.
Meanwhile, back in Arlington (and by meanwhile, I mean roughly 20 minutes later), I watched the driver of a silver Mercedes turn right illegally and shook my head in a disapproving fashions for reasons that are more reflexive than judgmental. This was observed by a Drew Carey-looking fellow who smiled and said "hi" and I, not knowing if I knew him said "hi" in return, as habituated by my profession. (I work with a lot of people (let me qualify- students) and I don't always remember their names and exact situations, so I've determined that my best strategy in these interactions is to be personable and worry about details later). I must've said something like "Hi. How's it going?" and he responded "Life is good, man." So, that's that guy's opinion on life.
It made me smile, but the smile was soon washed away by the rain (see what I did there?), which progressed from a light downpour to a progressively heavier one and I was thoroughly soaked and miserable by the time I got home. Not too miserable, but I was home and I guess, looking at the bright side, I was happy that I didn't wear my coat since that's one less article of clothing that I needed to dry.