DC is my Manhattan

Anyone who’s been around me lately knows that the upcoming Exodus has me down in the mouth lately. While I can’t wait to get out the ghetto, the whole rent-buy-rent-buy roller coaster is not fun. Last night, a small flame of hope was sparked within me thanks to a Sex and the City episode.

As I curled up on my soon-to-be-sold couch and watched the SATC episode about Carrie possibly losing her apartment and going through the loveliness of apartment hunting, loan qualifying and down payments, I began to seem some similarities. Take away the designer clothes and the washboard abs and Carrie and I were in the same boat. As Carrie said, “I’m homeless! I’ll be a bag lady! A Fendi bag lady, but a bag lady!!” Replace Fendi with Coach, and you’re in my (non-designer) shoes.

Granted, unlike Carrie, I do not have a devilishly handsome ex who would write me a check for 30k, nor do any of my girls possess a Rock of Gibraltar for a engagement ring that they want to get rid of, but despite the unrealistic-for-me happy ending, I know what Carrie means when she says she’s finally home.

For me, DC is my home. I remember the first time I truly felt my connection to the city — I was coming back on a Chinatown bus from NYC where I had just broken up with my delightful, pill-popping ex. Through my puffy eyes I saw the overhang that announces one’s arrival in DC’s Chinatown and felt at home. I still had a 30 min. Metro ride and then another 40 mins. driving to get to my delightful abode in Fauquier County, but I had come home.

I thought about SATC and how connected it was to Manhattan, and began to realize that DC was my Manhattan. Well, the Northwest quadrant anyway; anything outside of NW is viewed by me much like the SATC girls viewed anything outside of Manhattan — A strange land with strange customs (and in the case of Virginia, really strange inhabitants…Carebear and the Princess are exempt from that). Much like the love the girls had for their city, I love my NW DC.

I love walking around Georgetown in the Spring; hopping on the Metro to get to Dupont Circle for strawberry mojitos at Cafe Citron; sitting at Kramer’s Afterwords Cafe that supplies me with both caffeine and books at the wee small hours of the morn; enjoying the drag queen brunches at Perry’s in Adams Morgan; and the yearly attempts at finding the cherry blossoms.

So, if Carrie can buy her little Manhattan walkup, maybe getting my little corner of the world isn’t such a crazy idea. And even if it doesn’t work out, at least I will have a bitchin’ bag to go with my cardboard box.


~ by pithycomments on January 30, 2008.

2 Responses to “DC is my Manhattan”

  1. Awww, this makes me wanna buy my corner of NW DC, too! ‘Cept that I’m not quite convinced yet that my Manhattan isn’t San Fran or Boston or London or (gulp!) Seattle…

  2. […] reason for the change is something my friend, JC, sent me after reading my post about DC being my Manhattan: “DC is so you. From the time you first decide to move to […]

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