Love and Death, Dept.
Yeah, so your sobsister correspondent was metroing around town Saturday. Very slowly, because Metro has been taking advantage of the weekends to
Surfacing at Farragut North because the train I was riding decided that that was now the last stop on the westbound Red line, I walked up Connecticut Avenue and saw a humongous line of people. At least a couple hundred. Youngs, men and women, mainly Caucasian, although some Youngs of Color were also lined up. Was money being given away? Jobs? Photo ops with the president?
No, silly sobsister! It was just people waiting a long time to get into one of a number of venues in the greater Dupont Circle area participating in the Cupid's Bar Crawl, "the country’s largest and most electrifying Valentine’s Day themed pub crawl" in which you are invited to "join thousands of fellow crawlers and take a shot at love at some of Dupont Circle’s most popular bars."
And, sure enough, they were out by the thousands. An alarming number of the women were wearing what I'd describe as spring dresses, lightweight, above the knee, with maybe a shrug or light top. It was 32 degrees at Dupont Circle when I walked by, and humid. So, what I, an Old, would consider bone-chilling cold, these blithe female Youngs considered a judiciously selected opportunity to display their wares in "a shot at love."
Of the really made-up holidays, Saint Patrick's has always been an occasion for public inebriation because, faith and begorrah, we honor the memory of that missionary saint by puking green on public property. Cinco de Mayo because you have to wait all the way till the end of the month to commemorate our fallen servicemen and -women by killing a six before the barbecue. And now, St. Valentine's Day, more nakedly than ever about drugging someone to participate in your attempt to quell the white-hot flames of libido and fear.
Oh, Industry. First, you create it, and then you degrade it. Well played.