Kruppo

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We arrived in D.C., and had a little trouble finding parking. For the reader that is unfamiliar with Washington D.C. and its traffic patterns, there’s not much that needs to be said. A summarization of it all could be done with two single words: vicious drivers.
It took almost a complete thirty minutes alone to find a parking area, and we then had to scramble to pay the guy watching the area, to avoid getting towed. Mitch went through it all with good humor, while I couldn’t help but mutter ominous things behind everyone’s backs.
But the bitching and griping was indeed worth it all; even as I strolled through the urban areas of D.C., I had forgotten what it could be like. Normal, small-town men like Mitch or I, we were not used to such size and scope that was familiar in cities all across the country. The mere density of D.C. is enough often to throw off the inner balance of any small-time chump.
Dodging crowds of people, it was a wonder that no one got hurt. I feared constantly an elbow would strike me in the face or something, while Mitch and everyone else was talking and laughing, enjoying their time. I was merely trying to survive, hoping for an open spot, somewhere where I could sit down or at the very least, take a break from the claustrophobic march I was enduring.
After walking for what seemed like an hour, we finally got down to seeing the good stuff. First, we came in contact with the Washington Monument.
Elicia immediately pulled me and Clarissa into a pose for Jessie as he took a picture. The girls made funny faces as the camera flashed; I maintained a neutral look. I wasn’t exactly in the mood for cameras yet, after all.
“Ha ha, Palma, you look hilarious!” I was forced to glance down at the image then on the camera, and was surprised by what I saw. A man was standing where I had been standing; his face was covered by a swath of stubble, and his face donned aviator sunglasses. His tee shirt declared in a brutal font ‘Pig Destroyer’ and his face was one of annoyance.
“That can’t be me.” Everyone laughed again, and Mitch nudged me.
“You need to light up more man,” he grinned. “Maybe we should get a drink.”
“What in the middle of the day? Forget it, man.” Jessie spoke for me. “We’ll save that for tonight. Besides, you know Palma doesn’t drink, remember?”
“Oh right.” Mitch said as we took one last look at the monument before pressing on. “Living the straight-edge life, huh, Chad?”
“Not exactly.” I was halfway to lighting up a cigarette before I remembered that there were women in our presence. I didn’t get a chance to say a word or even put the cigarette away before Elicia held out a hand.
“Is it all right if I have one?” She asked.
Why not? Being a smoker myself, I felt obligated to offer her one and light it for her as well. She thanked me, her eyes bright as she and I strolled along, behind the others. I hadn’t planned on doing anything that would draw her towards me; my staring at her in class not too long ago had been unintentional, purely an accident. Chalk it up to my tiredness. Blame it not on my good character, but the devil who willed me do it.
The others didn’t seem to notice; we began a short ten-minute waltz past the World War II memorial, paying our respects quickly. Mitch wanted to remain longer, as that his grandfather had been a veteran of that war. However, everyone else wanted to see Mr. Lincoln sitting on his throne instead.
“Sorry man,” Jessie said. “You’ve been overruled.”
Mitch took it well, and we pushed on. No matter where I went, whether I was standing in front of everyone or behind, Elicia somehow managed to saunter right next to me, like a constant wingman. It was starting to disrupt my senses, and finally, I gave in and finally got around to talking to her a bit more. Otherwise I would’ve probably fainted on the spot.
We sat down on the steps that led to Lincoln, while everyone else went to go take more pictures. We’d gotten rid of the cigarettes, and I was wondering whether smoking was legal or not in D.C. when Elicia spoke first.
“So in class a few days ago, you were in the back, right? Far right corner of the room?”
I immediately felt my nerves tense up, my face probably started to redden, I imagine. But I had to confess, “Yeah.”
“Then that was you that was watching me, huh?” Her eyes were glinting, and I was flushed and out of diversions to pull out of my sleeve.
“Well…” Bad start; worse than anything I could’ve imagined. But she just laughed it off.
“I was just tired.” I gave it a shot, and had no clue whether she’d buy this lie or not.
Luck was on my side, if only for the moment; she merely shrugged, tipping her head to the side. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you awake in there.”
“That is very true. It’s not my fault that that professor is so boring.”
We sat there for not much longer, talking about stupid things that mattered very little to anyone when the rest of the gang joined us. David was on his cell phone, and he grinned at me while I stood up.
“Who you talking to?” I mouthed to him. He didn’t see this, as that he turned away just as I had attempted to communicate with him.
“Hey, I got an idea for where we can go next.” Mitch said. “Let’s go to the Vietnam wall. My dad served there too.”
“But Mitch, he ain’t dead.” Jessie pointed out.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter, man; he visits the wall every time he comes here. It’s a duty in my family to respect everyone who serves.” Mitch said this with such an aggressive manner, I was startled. Glancing at his face, it was obvious he was dead serious, and there was no other place we were going to go see before the wall.
“Right; why not?” David made the decision easy for us, having wrapped up his conversation on the phone. He shrugged. “They fought for us and died; the very least we can do is see the wall.”
The walk didn’t take long, and we arrived quickly. While there was a constant stream of people moving in and out about the wall, we were fairly free to move around ourselves. I found this a relief, and went off on my own to survey the list of names myself.
One name on the blackened marble caught my eye, and I stopped to read it. Private-First-Class George Wayne Baker.
How old was this man? Who was he with when he died? Had he been alone, or even old enough to understand why he was there in the first place? These were questions I didn’t have the answers to.
Had any man really understood what in hellfire was going on in Nam? If they could’ve seen the future, peer right here into modern times with a microscope from Heaven and watch how the war in the Middle East was being handled at the time, how would these soldiers feel about it? I couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps man was always doomed to fight someone else across the world. How could it be any other way? Man was just too stupid to get the memo – that you didn’t need to shoot someone or carry a gun around to make yourself heard. No one needed that.
“You okay over there?” It was Clarissa, with Elicia, calling my name, bringing me back to reality. I snapped my trance and nodded.
“I’m fine.” Not necessarily true, but it would do to make them feel better and still be enjoying their day. But as I went back over to the group, I knew deep in my heart now why Marvin got mad whenever I ignored his rules, and treated him like a massive prick. After all he had done to keep this country in good shape, he deserved all respect due to him.
-
It was nightfall when we got back to GMU; Mitch and the other split and went a separate way to go to McDonald’s while Elicia wanted to go back to her dorm. I drove her there and parked in front of the building.
“Thanks for the ride today; it was fun.” She said to me.
“Not a problem.” I replied. “Let’s do it again sometime.”
“Oh yeah, definitely.” She beamed at me, and confusion ran through my systems for a moment while I tried to decipher what exactly was going on here, between the two of us.
She had already shut the car door and was headed for her building by then; and I felt like something had been blown in our little talk. I couldn’t put my finger on it, and I didn’t know what to do for a moment as I sat there, trying to relax. Turning the stereo back on, I rummaged through my side-door until I found an Acid Mothers Temple disc and started playing it. Immediately, as I started driving, my mind went off on another one of those journeys it took when I needed a timeout to think about things.
I didn’t know what was going on with my life right now; I had some positive energy running for me, and some negative energy trying to corrupt the positive amount. Both were colliding hard, like two heavyweight boxers going at it. And despite it all, I felt like my Yin and Yang were perfectly focused, and harmonized. Everything felt like it was where it should be.

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I'm so post-rock I shit sad birds