Roll the Credits

Well, my summer in DC has finally come to an end. I am back, safe and sound, in God's country where you can say things like, "Y'all, I'm fixin' to head over to the Buccees for a coke. Can I tempt ya?" and everyone considers this to be a totally valid question. While it is nice to be back in a place where when you say, "queso", they understand that you mean a bowl of delicious, creamy, melted cheese with spicy tomatoes, peppers, and onions mixed in, not a cup of shredded cheese ( I CAN speak English, thank you.) there are things about DC that I miss.

1. The walking. No lie, I think I lost 15 pounds and 2 inches off every part of my body walking around town.

2. The people watching. Sorry Texas, you all for the most part, know what you're doing which makes you only mildly interesting for creeping purposes.

3. The food trucks. Sweet baby Jesus, why does no one deliver gourmet food to my hands from a truck parked outside my office here?! Oh I miss those meatballs in ghost chili sauce over polenta.

4. The briefings. Wait, no one is planning on teaching me about the situation in the middle east while I eat Lebanese food? Oh...okay... So no discussions of sustainable agriculture to break up the afternoon either? Yikes. Do we at least get to talk about the state of coastal communities and flood insurance prices after work? Oh...no...okay.

5. The people. All right you guys, this is that sappy moment where I talk about how great everyone was and how much I loved learning from them and working with them...I should probably cry...

Wait, what was that? You say I still get to talk to them? That I get to work with DC? Oh yeah! I should probably mention that I only left DC, not the congressman. That's right ladies and gents, you can stroll into your friendly local district office and find me sitting right there looking at you, just the sweet new congressional caseworker. I'm sticking around, sass and all. Your welcome, America.

The Sugar Siege

Yesterday, the State of Florida declared an unholy war against us. It was noon; the sun was shining through our windows bringing welcome warmth to our office.  It was the kind of day when it feels as though nothing could go wrong.  And then, out of nowhere, like the Japanese planes descending on Pearl Harbor, we were ruthlessly and relentlessly attacked. The aggression seemed to come out of left field. We had no idea why we were being attacked. And then an email appeared in our chief of staff’s inbox. “Your countrymen downstairs have taken something of great importance to us. Until it is returned everyone they love will suffer. Your candy jar will be returned to you when your ally returns the stolen goods. You may contact us when you are ready to enter negotiations.”

For a moment the whole office paused. How could they do this to us? We are innocent! We have no quarrel with the Floridians. For a moment, in our now sugarless office, we almost caved; however, we mustered our strength and boldly replied. “This office of the Great State of Texas does not negotiate with terrorists.”

As the first day under siege passed, we remained strong. We held out valiantly against the onslaught of a candy-less office and carefully rationed what little had been hidden in drawers. In this way, we were able to survive the first three o’clock sugar dip and by the end of day one we were still resilient in and the troops remained optimistic.

As the morning of day two dawned upon us, resolve had begun to weaken.  By noon, my fellow Texans had begun to look longingly at the place where our candy jar had previously resided and an air of unrest had begun to permeate the office.  By one thirty, it was becoming clear that something would have to be done before the three o’clock candy run. We were down to only two Kit-Kat bars and those would have to be used to keep up the strength of our most vulnerable. Things were starting to get desperate. As three o’clock arrived and the jar had not yet been returned, moral dropped to a low. We were like the citizens of East Berlin, separated from what we held dear and running out of resources. We needed a Ronald Reagan to intercede for us, to cry out, “Florida, the candy jar must be returned!”

People started to fall. Brave men and women who I labored daily with for the good of our citizens one by one gave way to sugar deprivation, sinking into doldrums from which they could not be pulled. At five o’clock, only one hour until the end of the day, our tormentors came into our sanctuary. Too weak to fight them, we merely watched as they plundered our office in search of their missing artifact. They again left us to our misery. There is however one bright spot in the midst of this trial. The large ceramic elephant, painted in a bold American flag pattern, is still safely hidden, in a place where they will never find it. They may take our candy, but they cannot take our spirit.

On the third day of the siege, the Texans and Floridians chartered a treaty. The candy Jar has been returned and peace has been restored. There were no casualties.

Sticking to your guns: accomplished

The Map Markup Meeting

Planning a trip to Washington DC and uncertain of what to see and how to get there? You are not alone. This has long been an issue for the people of this great nation. No American should have to wander, lost and directionless, through the heart of the great United States of America and yet, since the dawn of our nation, Americans have been left unprotected from the clutches of disnavagatia (a horrible, imaginary disease) by our federal government. To remedy this, I have conferred with my staff and after long hours on Google maps, chasing the locations around my screen like a Pacman game, I have completed a Washington DC tourist map.  I call this particular program HR 19842: No Tourist Left Behind (NTLF) Act of 2013.  

Enjoy the city! You’re welcome.

https://mapsengine.google.com/map/edit?mid=z8rdoKImETuY.kSn2eOUAP3xk

 

 PS: I'm still seeking a cosponsor for the bill if you would like to sign on. Dear Colleague letter to follow (maybe).

Lesson #7: Learning the city: completed(ish)

The Candy Conjecture

At 3PM in our office everyone starts to get a little hungry, a little sleepy, and it’s time for a break. Around this time, a line of staff begins to file past the candy jar on our front desk for a snack. This ritual occurs every day like clockwork. Even when the office is buzzing, we firmly believe in a candy break.

Yesterday, the three o’clock candy period rolled around, but we were prepping the congressman for a teleconference. Naturally, not wanting to break from tradition, we started to distribute the candy using the toss method so that everyone could stay at their work stations. Our lovely staff assistant effortlessly tossed the Milky Ways, Snickers, Nerds, and Laffy Taffies to the people nearest her who then tossed them out further. It was a glorious ripple of three o’clock sugar, until it reached me.

My desk is situated right in the doorway of the congressman’s office, making it my responsibility to make the Milky Way handoff to him. The VIP toss, if you will. The catch was flawless, the form stunning as I snatched the candy out of the sky with reflexes like a jungle cat. The turn was beautiful as my body aligned for the perfect pass and like Johnny Manziel seeing an opening, I aimed for the congressman and let the chocolate fly. From here, what had started out as a beautiful moment in sports history rapidly deteriorated. I watched as the candy flew, in what seemed like slow motion, in a flawless arc through the office and crashed into the congressman’s stunned face, hitting him directly between the eyes. Still in slow motion, I watched him reel back from the impact while surprise flitted across his abused features. I felt my hands reach out as though to take back their action and then contort in a helpless gesture of mingled fear, embarrassment, and horror. I just hit the congressman in the face. Right between the eyes. With a candy bar.

For a moment we just stared at each other, it was as though the office had frozen in place as the staff, congressman, and I tried to absorb what had just happened. In that moment, I was certain my career in DC was over. I was starting to compose the telephone call home. “Hey Dad! Yeah, DC was great but then I mauled the congressman in the face with a Milky Way so I’ll be home tomorrow!” Fortunately, after those few tense seconds, the office then exploded into laughter.

“I can’t believe you just hit him in the face!”

“Oh my gosh, you nailed him.”

“That was awesome!”

And from the man himself, once he had pulled it together enough to verbalize, “Nice shot!”

Moral of the story: I still have a job, and while I may not be Johnny Manziel, I’m like Annie Oakley with a Mars product.

 

Lesson #6: levity is never a loss.

 

A Historic Proposal

In 1776, our founding fathers decided they’d had enough of England and broke off an existing relationship in order to form a new relationship between nations as equals and allies. This reevaluation and rewriting of relationship would emerge only after a war and long diplomatic maneuvers.  On this July 4^th, 2013, I too rewrote and renamed a relationship, though it did not take a war to do it. On July 4^th, 2013, I accepted a marriage proposal from the best man I’ve ever known and best friend I have ever had going from girlfriend to fiancée.

If becoming engaged on July 4^th doesn’t sound American enough, Josh came up with a proposal which would make George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Abe Lincoln give a thumbs up.

I was first awakened by my fellow interns, dressed in red, white, and blue dress clothes, who handed me three roses and invited me to begin my independence journey. Connected to the roses, was a card informing me that I was on the trail to engagement and directing my first move. I rapidly dressed and took off running for the Starbucks which had been indicated. Waiting for me there, was one of my roommates with more roses and my favorite drink and pastry [passion iced tea and blueberry muffin]. She handed me another note which directed me to the Giant Panda exhibit at the Smithsonian zoo. I decided I really didn’t need to stop for breakfast and walked with [significant] speed and [moderate] decorum to the metro.

Once in the station I waited patiently [paced excitedly while fiddling with everything I own] for the train and calmly boarded [ran past families, tourist and small children with abandon]. Once I disembarked at the Woodley park station, I began the walk to the zoo. Upon entering the Smithsonian National Zoo, I followed the enclosed map to the Giant Panda Exhibit and looked [excitedly] for either Josh or another roommate. I proceeded to walk through the exhibit, which happens to be one of the largest panda habitats I have ever seen, about three times, not seeing anyone, at this point, in a small panic, I text Josh to ask him if I was in the right place. After a text of reassurance, I received a call from my roommate, “Where are you, EXACTLY?” Having found each other against odds similar to a successful panda pregnancy [low], my roommate and her friend with a camera met me and handed me my next set of instructions and more roses. This note directed me to the National Cathedral, more explicitly, Bishop’s Garden. This particular venue is about 1.6 miles from the zoo, definitely walkable, but not if I wanted to maintain the current state of my hair and makeup.

“Are we walking or taking a cab?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“But really, I’ll buy the cab.”

“Don’t worry about the transport.”

“But really…”

At this point, the camera man made eye contact and quickly mimed a steering wheel behind her back. Excellent.

“The eagle has landed”, my roommate quickly barked into her cell phone.

At that point a silver SUV purred up to the sidewalk and the doors opened to reveal all but one of the roommates I had seen so far. “Get in the car!” and we were on our way.

When we arrived at Bishops Garden, I was handed the final note which read, “Follow the pictures.” I exited the car and entered the beautiful garden and was led by the final roommate to a trail of pictures of Josh and I’s relationship. At the end of the Trail, I was met by Josh in the gazebo, where he read me a [beautiful, stunning, marvelous, creative, and professional looking] book he had made about us and our story and asked for my hand in marriage. Of course, I said yes!

That night as I stood out on the Capitol Lawn watching great American artists perform the Fourth of July Concert while being surrounded by friends and held by my ex-boyfriend and new fiancée, I realized the founding fathers were really on to something when they redefined their relationship with England as I enjoyed not only my freedom as an American, but the beginning of a new chapter in my life as Josh’s fiancée.

Lesson learned: When the man of your dreams offers to spend his life with you in a historical venue, say yes. Everyday, yes.

 

The Email Equation

One of my duties as an intern on the Hill is to read, sort, and respond to emails from the district. I get loads of emails with legitimate concerns voiced appropriately which are a pleasure to deal with however, I also get a significant number of emails which are either off the wall or vaguely reminiscent of enraged teenaged breakup mail. To these, I always take the high road and respond with kindness and decorum, however, here is how I would love to answer them: 

CONgressman, when will you learn about the actual situation with the debt and do something about it????

Actually, I was planning on just farting around this term and getting down to the pennies and dimes next term, after I spent all your tax dollars on smoking jackets and scamming businessmen into buying useless racehorses.

 

THE WAY THIS GOVERNMENT IS GOING I’M NO LONGER PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN.

I’ll contact Lee Greenwood ASAP and let him know that his song is about to lose ratings.

 

I need $4 million dollar grant to attempt a science project that I haven’t really thought through.

Hold your horses there pal! I’m digging your ingenuity, but maybe you should dot your I’s and cross your t’s first.

 

Are you a homosexual?????

Why, you single?

 

Congressman, my neighbor stole a dead person’s house and is living there to scare the mechanics away.

Maybe you should move? Everyone needs a solid mechanic.

 

Congressman, I saw you on TV last night and was VERY DISSAPOINTED.

Me too, it really was an awful hair day, but you should feel the humidity up here!

 

Lesson #4: Harnessing the sass

PASSED

 

The Taxi Trial

This past weekend, I took the liberty of taking a taxi to Target so that I could avoid the “on the hour” weekend transit schedule and get my prescription and get to my holocaust museum tour on time. My ride there was quite enjoyable with the driver being nice, but not overly friendly. The driver who picked me up from Target however, was a different story.

Upon entering the cab and getting through the traditional, where to type things, the driver asked me where I was from. I responded that I was from Texas. He then asked what I was doing here and I informed him that I was an intern. He then asked where I worked. Okay, I may be a sweet little new grad from Texas A&M, but I did know where this was going. In an attempt to escape the political storm that was brewing, I calmly answered, “the Capitol.” He then asked for whom did I work at the Capitol. “Randy Weber”, I stated evenly.

 “Republican or Democrat?” Crap.

“Republican.”

“Are you a Republican?” Double crap.

“Yes.” Wrong answer.

For the remainder of my trip (to the holocaust museum) I was informed about how uncaring and unfeeling I was towards my fellow man. I was also exposed to his feelings on “George Mother F***** W. Bush” and his ‘cronies’. By the end of the trip, which I might add I was paying for, I had dealt with someone needlessly and relentlessly demonizing my beliefs.

Am I a Republican? Yes. Am I cold and unfeeling? No. Did I harass a stranger for their political beliefs? No.

Internship lesson #3:  my political beliefs are my right under the constitution, just the same as yours. Be respectful, or you won’t get a tip.