As the semester dwindles down to a close, I suppose I can begin to wrap up my thoughts about Washington. I could list a litany of adjectives to describe it, but I feel that this city goes beyond descriptive words. Indeed, it has a captivating aura that traps anyone walking within the beltway; however, DC has a certain plainness that you don’t get anywhere else. And although many who live here like to believe it is the center of the universe, let alone the world, Washington is no more than a series of Roman architectural buildings conveniently separated by makeshift street lights and grids that occasionally confuse the regular passerby when Avenues decide to make a quick, angular turn through the city blocks.

The buildings are correspondingly low and the city’s bed time is 9:30pm. It hibernates whenever it snows and blossoms for just a couple of hours when the weather turns around. The lights go out at night and the apartment lights turn on, giving DC a soft, glowing hum of yellow light cascading over the horizon. Over the weekends only certain areas remain alive while others give you the creepy feeling of walking through a deserted alleyway that’s deserted for a reason. Adams Morgan becomes the talk of Monday morning, although, the few streets that are lit up are short lived by the ludicrous drinking laws and three-dozen cops watching your every move.

Metro dictates social order and common law. It is partially responsible for the premature bed time that DC has and is capable of granting unexpected vacations to Congressmen who once complained of recess being too short. Its escalators and elevators are in constant repair at every stop, making their existence unwarranted and, as the Supreme Court would say, “moot.” Metro can make your day or destroy it like a thousand suns. It has the power of the gods and the demigods; it is the alpha and the omega.

Interns roaming the streets aimlessly in search of the nonexistent bodegas and mom-and-pop-shops often have the sex appeal of a tootsie roll and the intellect of a snail. They have egos the size of New York skyscrapers and résumés the length of their toenail. Eagerly looking for the closest happy hour to attend, they often get denied for being underage or realizing that their pockets have been run dry from the high cost of living in this small city. Lunches often run at $15 a person while Ramen Noodle soup begins to look like the most appetizing thing you can buy at a supermarket.

Everything is Federal, but nothing is political. There is the law and everyone agrees with it, or is forced to. Taxation without representation is so 18th century and Keynesian economics is the cool way to go. When it comes to employment, people aimlessly depend on government. And when it comes to making money, government depends on aimless people. Everyone has an opinion, but no one cares of yours. Senators compete with Lady Gaga for fame while lobbyists happily walk the streets with the egos of interns. Congressmen often forget that there are over 400 of their kind in the beltway yet their egos reach an undiscovered outer planetary galaxy somewhere near Andromeda.

The city resembles Constantinople, 1453. It looks beautiful from the outside but stained on the inside. The Dome and Tower can be seen from miles away but the mistakes from the people inside can be felt oceans away. It is a microcosm of the world; hundreds of thousands of different types of people all itching to legitimize themselves in some fashion or another gives you the ultimate feeling of hathos. You hate to love it but love to hate it. DC has all the good and bad qualities of America blended into a city that contains Northern efficiency and Southern charm. It needs to exist, I suppose. Or else New York would have to take its undesired place.