When I sat down to write this blog about summer in DC, I was tempted to just list “tourist” and “humidity”, drop the mic and yell “Boltz OUT”. But considering I already justified my annoyance of humidity and tourist in previous posts, and I don’t write a haiku blog, I thought it might need to be longer. But then it got real long. Like, “scary manifesto” long. Why? Well, first of all, I don’t think Mr. Sorkin ever broached the topic of summer recess. He talked about recess appointments and the lame duck Congress, but never summer recess. And let me tell you, it is a thing. Congress goes home and everyone else goes on vacation, because why work if Congress isn’t? Staffers wear Nantucket Red to work, bring in their dogs to the office and sometimes go on Chick-Fil-A runs deep into the heart of suburban Virginia.
Turns out, summer recess isn’t the only thing about summer Aaron Sorkin forgot to tell me.
Most interns are fantastic. They are smart, dedicated and generally nice to be around. My intern is a rock star and I couldn’t live without her. She also lives in the area and isn’t here for an extended layover in between school and a European vacation for a “career building opportunity.” Try providing professional growth opportunities to a population that is so entitled you half expect them to say, “I don’t think my father, the inventor of Toaster Strudel, would be too pleased to hear about this” after you ask them to do data entry. Look, we’ve all thought something was beneath us, but most of us had the common sense not to say it out loud.
Summer interns descend on our city like cicadas and leave a wake of destruction. Not actual destruction – it’s more emotional. Have you ever shown up wearing the same Ann Taylor dress as your 20-year-old intern? I have. Do you like going to free concerts in the sculpture garden? So do interns. Do you like watching outdoor movies on the Mall? So do interns. Do you like hitting happy hour after a long day of work? So do interns. Have you ever shown up drunk from the night before? No, well your intern has. If you ever misplace your intern, you can usually locate them at McFadden’s, Rumors, Union Pub or Lucky Bar. If you are reading this and think, “Stefanie sure is mean” then you have never lived in DC or you are an intern. If you are reading this and nodding your head, you must be a summer intern coordinator. Have no fear; Labor Day will be here soon enough.
Seersucker and Top-Siders
What is this about? Men wander the streets dressed like the lost member of a barbershop quartet who are about to set sail on the Chesapeake. I don’t know why the barbershop quartet is on the sail boat, but that is neither here nor there. It’s a look. It’s here to stay. And it has captured the fancy of elder statesmen, younger statesmen, aspiring statesmen, and bros would think they might get lucky if they looked like they stepped out for a South Carolina garden party.
I carry an umbrella from May-August because at any moment the heavens will open and you will be stuck in a down pour. You might ask yourself why I don’t just look at the forecast? Why? WHY? Because sometimes it says 0% chance of rain while my street is actively flooding. And sometimes you cancel a Memorial Day BBQ because it says there is 100% chance of rain and it never rains. In fairness, Aaron Sorkin does mention our propensity for random rainstorms but he isn’t summer specific. So we will call that one a draw. But considering the man has an Oscar, I really will never win.