It is uplifting when I encounter people or situations that remind me that D.C. isn't such a bad place. I admit, I am typically hard-pressed to identify these positive factors, especially when on the spot, but they do exist.
I will never tire of motorcades. Just last week I was walking to the metro after work when I heard sirens in the distance. Motorcade sirens are not to be confused with a routine police siren. They are unmistakably layered and demanding of each passer-by's attention. Even at the hint of a motorcade, my excitement begins to mount. As the lights come into view, and fleet of black SUVs head my way, I bubble over with giddiness.
First the motorcycles flash by. Then the Chevy Tahoes, two by two, each one identical, their windows tinted an impenetrable black. They are followed by yet another group of motorcycles. And in a flash, they are gone.
Typically, I try to act cool -- I'm a local, I'm supposed to be used to this right? Wrong. Especially now that I know Obama could be staring back at me through that heavily tinted glass, I can't help but to feel like I've just witnessed something. I never know quite what, but something.
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