I'm feeling a bit more lighthearted today than I was on Monday. I have a smile on my face, a spring in my step, and loads of sugar rushing through my veins. It's the day after my birthday (I turned 29 for the fourth time) and despite a long yesterday spent with two very cranky babies, I'm in a good mood. I think it's because of the time of year.
You see, this time of year, the days are longer, the roads are less crowded, the Potomac is a less scary shade of brown, and the freshly squeezed lemonade sold at festivals on the Mall is exceptionally refreshing. But more exciting than any of these things is the fact that it's intern season. It's a time when thousands of college students descend upon Washington. Unlike cicadas, who infest certain areas every 17 years, interns take over DC year after year after year...after year.
You may wonder why I love intern season so much. Well, as a self-professed people watcher and social commentator, I find that interns provide Jeff and me with more entertainment than talking baboons. In addition, we are a nostalgic couple, so seeing interns allows us to relive our glory days of youth (sad, but true).
The funny thing is, Jeff was the ultimate DC intern. So poking fun at interns is kind of like poking fun at our past selves. I honestly believe if Jeff could still be an intern, he would be - in which case, we could never afford our twins. He loves politics, he loves Capitol Hill, and I swear, he even loves the musty smell of the hallways in the House and Senate office buildings. And, like a majority of interns, he loves happy hours that extend late into the night.
He was one of those stereotypical intern guys who lived in Georgetown with a bunch of other stereotypical intern guys. They "worked hard, played hard." They all came here for jobs on the Hill, doing whatever quotidian tasks were set aside for them. After work, they played for their congressmen's softball teams, met up at whatever bar was hot that summer using their really believable (wink, wink) fake IDs, then passed out from one too many drinks later than night. Somehow, the next morning, they made it back to work in time to brew the coffee. Jeff's group of buddies even had its female counterparts. This group not only had their own summer of '96 theme song, which I believe was 'Santa Monica' by Everclear, they watched 'St. Elmo's Fire' on their last day of interning.
Because this is my blog, I'm not even going to embarass myself by describing what a huge dork of an intern I was. But I will say I was probably more like one of those interns who sincerely believed she was one step closer to making the world a better place with every envelope she stuffed.
Needless to say, in the sea of borrowed suits by day and popped collars by night, you will find interns just like us, but more than a decade later. I see how they network with their homemade business cards and how they get "totally wasted" just to build up enough courage to act ridiculous at bars for attention. And Jeff hears how one intern on the Metro tells another to get in touch by, "Facebook[ing] me, beyotch!" Seriously?! I get so much enjoyment out of observing these kids, because it makes me laugh and cringe at the same time, knowing we probably looked and sounded just as foolish. The crazy thing is, 20 years from now, our boys will likely be updated versions of the same DC interns. And Jeff and I, sitting on the waterfront, drinking our lemonade and enjoying the warm breeze off the not-so-murky waves of the Potomac, will still be loving this time of year for that very reason.
Our future interns:
No comments:
Post a Comment