The same thing happens on the bike trail and on the busses and on the Metros: packed going into DC in the morning. Filled coming out of the District each night. The promise of power that Washington holds out to the human soul is enticing, and we follow the flame like moths to the fire all too easily.
When we first moved here I have to admit I was drawn to the "power" that Washington, DC offered. I really wanted a job in one of those bright halls of power. I got a thrill thinking of walking into the halls and offices of the Capital building or trying to influence Administration policy or even maybe working for a Senator or Congressperson. I tried. I must have sent in over 100 letters and resumes and had quite a number of interviews.
Now in the morning I go south into southern Fairfax County. There are rich, powerful people who live in Fairfax County. It's one of the richest (per capita income wise) counties in the U.S. But most of those rich people are swept up by the northerly tide each day. Drawn by the flame. That leaves a lot of poor people here who need help. That's where I go each day now . . . against the tide . . . in a nearly empty Metro rail car . . . in a very roomy bus . . . down rail lines and streets where the traffic is almost absent. Away from the power center . . . toward the not-so-powerful. And then back north again at the end of the day along an equally vacant path. Against the surge of people rushing to their homes from their centers of power. . . rushing past me slowly moving north. . . rushing past the poor who have been there all day long.
And at night . . . when I can look north up George Washington Parkway right at the Washington Monument shining bright in the floodlights four miles ahead . . . I'm still drawn.
