The D.C. region has been in a state of social isolation, more or less, for about six months. Through a series of stories this week, DCist/WAMU is examining life at this point in the pandemic — and what we’ve learned along the way.
When we left our offices in mid-March, we had no idea that the lives we knew were about to be uprooted indefinitely.
As the weeks since March 16 have stretched into months, we’ve found ourselves yearning for surprising things — places and sights and experiences that barely registered in the Before Times. But as it turns out, these bits of life in the District gave our days texture and joy, even as we were busy under-appreciating them.
Joni may have said it best: Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got til its gone…
In their own words, here’s what DCist and WAMU staff miss most about pre-pandemic life in the D.C. region.
THE METRO BRIDGE ACROSS THE POTOMAC: Before March, I frequently traveled on the Yellow Line to Northern Virginia. Normally on the journey I’m reading a book or zoning out to a podcast, but between L’Enfant Plaza and Pentagon, where the train emerges from the darkness and crosses the river, the ride is always quieter, almost eerily serene. It’s my favorite part of a trip that can feel boring at best, frustrating and claustrophobic at worst. I haven’t seen that particular view of the Potomac River in six months, and I’d love to see it again — even if it means braving interminable Metro delays. — Lori McCue
THE BEAR STATUE AT THE NATIONAL ZOO: Since 2014, when my son was 18 months old, we have taken a photo of him sitting on the little statue of the bear over by the lemur enclosure at the entrance to the Valley/American Trail. I’ve got 6 perfect photos of him smiling with fall leaves piled up in the background. We were at the zoo recently and every single statue is covered with its own custom built, forest green hut. I understand why they are limiting high-touch surfaces, and I even agree with it. But walking past and knowing that this little family tradition of ours wouldn’t happen this year hit my heart harder than I thought it would. — Kristy Matero
THE PEOPLE OF ST. MARTIN’S CHURCH: I’m not the most dedicated churchgoer or the biggest extrovert, but it was nice to have a place I could go and be surrounded by people once a week. These were people who cared and sang and loved even the strangers (like me, when I first started attending.) People who are experiencing homelessness go there and join hands with wealthy lawyers. It’s a diverse crowd, and as much as the Zoom services have been nice, there’s nothing like the in-person gospel choir. When this is over, I’ll be right back in the pews. –Elliot Williams
BASKETBALL GAMES AND SALTY POPCORN AT ESA: I miss seeing the Mystics in person at the Entertainment and Sports Arena, where there isn’t a bad seat in the house. And I miss watching the Capital City Go-Go, too! I miss the extremely delicious, almost disturbingly salty popcorn that the arena sells. (Seriously, pack chapstick.) I miss disappearing into the weekend matinee games for two hours, slinking into my seat (standing up when warranted, though), and focusing on the game. — Jenny Gathright
A LONG, MISERABLE COMMUTE: I miss my long, frustrating commute to the WAMU building on Connecticut Ave. NW. I live in Prince George’s County and there really is no “easy” way from my home to WAMU. My morning drive often began with a slow merge onto B/W Parkway, followed by a slow merge on U.S. 50 West. Then, a moderately-paced three-mile jaunt up South Dakota Ave., followed by an agonizingly long wait to turn left onto Riggs Rd. It’s about 15 minutes to get through the bottleneck at Missouri Ave. and North Capitol St. Still to come, the bottle neck at the weird intersection of Missouri Ave. and Georgia Ave. My GPS helps me navigate neighborhood side streets to avoid that area. Back onto Missouri Ave. from 13th St. NW. On a good day, I would sail down Military Rd. On a bad day, I’d want to abandon my car at this point and walk. A left turn onto Glover St. begins a shortcut through Rock Creek Park. In the summer, it was a breathtaking drive through the tall, green forest of trees. In the winter, it was as gloomy as my commute itself. Through the gorgeously manicured neighborhood on Davenport St. and straight to Connecticut Ave. NW. Lane splitting forces me into the far left lane that many northbound drivers don’t know is for southbound commuters at this point. Finally, a daring and swift left turn onto Windom Pl. Work at last! What I wouldn’t do to relive this miserable experience again. — Esther Ciammachilli
ALICE’S JAZZ AND CULTURAL SOCIETY: When you walk into Alice’s Jazz and Cultural Society in Brookland, you’re entering an experience. Columns of artist photos line the walls. Overhead lights bathe the stage with a rainbow haze. Every seat is filled, and everyone is there for the same reason: to go somewhere, together. I miss watching my friends face their fears and own the stage. I miss watching the audience let themselves breathe into the space those performers created. I miss being a part of that audience. But I trust our absence is only temporary. — Eliza Berkon
A SWEATY NIGHT AT SONGBYRD: I miss crawling my way out of Songbyrd’s basement after a packed and sweaty show, rushing out the door with the other concertgoers as the rush of 18th Street nightlife hits like a breath of fresh air. — Alexya Brown
THE INTERMINABLE TRAFFIC OF WOLF TRAP: I grew up in Northern Virginia and often went to shows and performances at the outdoor venue. In fact, one of my first memories is being stung by a bee there! Now, as an adult, my wife, friends, and I go to several shows a summer at Wolf Trap. We bring a picnic and a blanket and sit on the lawn. We talk, eat, enjoy being outside, and loving whatever is happening on stage. And, afterwards, we go back to our car and… sit in Wolf Trap’s hellish parking lot as hundreds of cars attempt to leave via two exits. I often curse as many times as there are cars. I miss that. — Matt Blitz
THE MAGIC TRANSPORT OF PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION: I have the luxury of being able to work, eat and shop within walking distance of my home. A lot of people can’t say that. But one thing I actively miss is taking Metro or Metrobus for leisurely activities. The trains and buses are still running, obviously, but it feels like an unnecessary risk. I’ve always loved that I could just hop on a 30N bus, read a book or listen to a podcast, and show up at Eastern Market a little while later. Taking that off the table makes me feel really isolated in my little corner of the District. — Chris Chester
A COMPETITIVE DINNER PARTY: I got involved in an unofficial D.C. competitive dinner club that friends and I called “Hail to the Chef.” Once a month, we picked an ingredient and people claimed courses – from amuse-bouche to dessert to cocktails. Then we got together at each other’s houses to eat and vote on the best dish. The winner took home a hamburger turner covered in spraypaint. I managed to win the Golden Spatula twice before the pandemic shut everything down. Lately I’m still curious to discover new ingredients, but getting out of my apartment feels more urgent. So I’ve been heading into Northern Virginia, where there are some phenomenal Lebanese, Korean, Chinese and Indian restaurants and plenty of outdoor space. I really miss the experience of cooking and eating with friends, but getting some fresh flavors in the fresh air can be inspiring. — Daniella Cheslow
THE ENTRYWAY TO UNION STATION: Being from Nashville, easily accessible and convenient passenger trains still feel like a novelty, and every time I pass through there, I can’t help but stop and stare at the ceiling for a moment. I took a train a few days before D.C. shut down, and it was already a bit eerily quiet, but I didn’t know quite what was coming. I haven’t taken one since. — Nathan Diller
A FREAKING CROISSANT: For most weekday mornings of the last few years, I ping ponged between two bakeries, desperate for caffeine and carbohydrates. Elle and Bread Furst jolted my days into existence (a morning person I am not), and man did I take them for granted. It took me a minute to realize that pastries had pretty much disappeared from my life, but now, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I haven’t had a croissant in six months! And I don’t even particularly care for croissants! But now I would extremely like to have one! And all the casualness of dashing into a fragrant bakery without a moment’s thought beyond dusting off the crumbs and scrambling to get to work. — Rachel Sadon
A SWING AND A HIT AT SUNSET: I miss playing softball on the National Mall and in parks around the region. I’m usually part of at least two slow-pitch, coed softball leagues every summer and fall. I love the feeling of biking to a ballfield after a long day of work and watching as all my friends arrive from different parts of the city. We trade polished work shoes for scuffed-up cleats, pull on our garishly-colored team t-shirts, grab our gloves from our bags, and run onto the field. It makes me feel like a giddy, scraped-knee kid again. The games on the National Mall are particularly magical — it’s a true only-in-D.C. kind of experience to take the plate as the sun sets near the Washington Monument. (And at this point in the pandemic, I even miss griping about how the kickball leagues take all the open space on the Mall!) I can’t wait to be back on the field again — here’s hoping for a 2021 season. — Mikaela Lefrak
SHARING A SONG WITH STRANGERS: Some of my closest friends and I have been devoted patrons of (and performers at) Galaxy Hut in Arlington since 2018. The funky little bar has been a source of joy for us over these past couple years, as we’ve reconnected with old friends over tots and vintage arcade game tabletops, brought new people into the fold, and made a monthly commitment to meet there on the first Sunday of every month for karaoke. You may know us as “Cat Diplomacy” — we’re the table that cheers loudly for every performer and sometimes carries our own tune, usually with more stage presence than actual talent. I miss singing along with and cheering on strangers 12 Sundays a year as we flip through thick binders of song catalogues. I miss laughing at our host’s commentary and music trivia in between songs. And I’d give just about anything to share a microphone and some lightheartedness again in the comfort of Galaxy Hut’s delightfully weird atmosphere with some of my dearest friends and favorite strangers. — Mary Tyler March
EVEN METRO’S CROWDED COMMUTES: I miss a crowd. Packed Metro stations, concerts, baseball games, jockeying for a position at the bar so you can get the bartender’s attention. Full restaurants. More specifically I miss not being fearful or worrisome about a crowd. — Jordan Pascale
“WE SHOULD DO THIS AGAIN SOON”: Part of why D.C. has felt like home to me is the supporting cast of characters in my life — the friends-of-friends and people who I knew simply from running into them at local watering holes time and again. They’re not people I would text, if I even have their numbers, but I enjoy the small repartee we’ve built over our years of quick and somewhat insignificant exchanges. I guess they weren’t so insignificant after all — I miss that really low-stakes level of interaction in my life! — Rachel Kurzius
A $2 ADVENTURE: I miss the bus. I used to take the H2 to work every day. It was a routine, but there were always new sights, sounds and interactions — strangers mixed with familiar faces. On weekends sometimes, I’d hop on a new bus and ride it to the end of the line. How far do the S lines go? Where can the 90 or X routes take me? For a couple dollars, you could see so much of the city. But now, the world is limited. — Gabe Bullard
A DATE WITH MONET: I miss the National Mall. Yes, I know it’s still open. But I miss walking around without a mask and more importantly without the constant reminder that people around me may be carrying a deadly virus. So much about the Mall envelopes you — the open space, planes curling around the Washington Monument, the imposing Capitol steps, museums on either side of you filled with wonder, the mix of local and international pedestrians walking nearby. I miss ducking into the National Gallery of Art and making a beeline to its Impressionist paintings. They transport me to another era, to other places, other ways of seeing the world, its shapes and colors. — Jeffrey Katz
GLITTER-FILLED DAYS: Out of all the art events that have been canceled and closed, I feel the absence of king shows most. For the uninitiated, king shows feature mostly female and gender non-conforming performers who dress in masculine drag, and the District is blessed with a particularly robust community. I miss hyping up the kings, running into friends, dancing my little heart out, and shaking glitter out of my hair at the end of the night (honestly, for the next few days). While I appreciate the digital performances happening now, it felt almost sacred to physically gather with other “queerdos” to celebrate campy art — and each other. — Julie Strupp
COMING HOME: Swirly swoops of stone monuments and sidewalks. Jagged, dark paths of rivers and streams. Elegant geometry of nature and human alike, proudly on display. Seeing D.C. from the air, thousands of feet up, is special, and I’m fortunate to be able to miss it. The stature of the built environment of “official Washington” is obvious, even from all the way up there. It’s filled with symbols of power and history and change. But — I really miss knowing there was also so much personal, unofficial, familial, generational history happening in the neighborhoods down below. Deep in the earth in Metro cars; in corner bars and places of worship (and sometimes in places that served both purposes). Most of all, I miss knowing, as I was landing, that I was coming home. — Kelsey Proud
