On a Cold Night in The District

On a cold night in DC we met up with our childhood friend for dinner at The Bird. We ordered a “flight of egg” which included an odd, lemon-y (?), eggy, disturbingly sweet bite, topped with caviar, and a cold, strange, gelatinous egg disc doused in soy sauce.

Our night was not off to a good start.

nope

yup

12 yr old Hibiki = nectar of the gods

nope

Experimental appetizers aside, the rest of our dinner was delicious, even if I could barely finish my massive entrée and had to give it to my hubs, the trash compactor. We ordered multiple bottles of French wine and talked and laughed and recounted old memories until the restaurant grew quiet and empty. Our friend, DDA, called an uber, and then we all dashed out into the cold night into the warmth of a toasty car to drive the few blocks to DDA’s apartment.

Sly immediately sifted through DDA’s vinyl collection (because of course they had the exact same taste in music) and played DJ for the majority of the night. Meanwhile, DDA searched for a CD player to play an old CD he borrowed from his sister. When he emerged with the CD player we all laughed because somehow a CD player seemed so much older and out-of-fashion than a record player.

A Liquor cabinet was popped open, its contents splayed out on the kitchen bar for all to sample as we sang along to old favorites – new wave, synth-pop and gothic rock. If there were to have been a theme song for the night, it would have been Seasons, by Future Islands, the lyrics a fitting description of our night.

People change,
You know but some people never do

After warming our insides up with various liquor combos, we had the grand idea to tentatively climb the cold, slick, narrow, spiral staircase to the rooftop deck. My sister and DDA valiantly tried to hook up the outdoor fire pit and heater to one of the three propane tanks that were lying around, but nothing seemed to work. The propane tanks were either empty or the connection to the fire pit was broken. Eventually, and after much heckling by yours truly, we gave up, brought up a bottle of booze, and waited for the snowstorm to hit DC.

Laughter and scotch, while not necessarily dependent on one another, flowed generously. Pantries were raided of half-eaten bags of chips, salsa, cheese and crackers. Sometime well past midnight, pizzas were ordered, and, despite everyone exclaiming they were too stuffed from dinner, disappeared quickly. Around 3am, there still was not a snowflake in sight, so we reluctantly said our goodbyes and made plans to meet up once more the following evening.

It was the type of night that we took for granted in our youth because we knew there would be many more, but now that we are older we realize they are so few and far between. It was the type of night that unfolded organically. Where nobody has somewhere else they’d rather be or makes excuses to leave early. Where nobody looks at the clock or obsessively checks their phones. Where nobody asks, “So, what do you do?” Where everyone drinks and sways to music. Where the idea of standing on a rooftop in the freezing cold sounds completely and perfectly logical, like the best idea ever. Where you meet new people and instantly become friends. Where you reconnect with old friends and wish you had done it so much sooner.