D.C. You Later

Landing my dream job? Amazing. Leaving Washington to take it? Excruciating. With a week to say goodbye, here are the things I had to experience one last time.

How D.C. am I? I was born here. Raised in the 'burbs. Went to GW and lived here ever since. I own a framed portrait of Gilbert Arenas. My heart beats go-go breaks and Fugazi drum fills. Trace amounts of chili from Ben's Chili Bowl can be found in my bloodstream.

And now I've left. I've landed that perfect job in that neighboring city four hours north, forcing me to say goodbye to a place I still can't imagine growing tired of.

But I didn't spend my final days in the District packing boxes and sitting on hold with the oh-so-helpful folks at Verizon. No way. I squeezed in some time to visit my favorite spots in town -- a goodbye to the weird and wonderful sites that, for me, capture the boundless energy and intangible beauty of Washington.

'The Donnie Simpson Show' Theme

My first stop is on the FM dial to hear a tune that has been bouncing out of my clock radio for as long as I can remember: "Donnie Simpson show, Donnie Simpson show, Donnie in the morning! Get up! Everybody get up!" More than the Easterns Motors jingle, Simpson's morning show theme song on WPGC (95.5 FM) is the local ditty I'll miss most.

Weekdays from 6-10 a.m., http://www.wpgc955.com.

Rembrandt's 'Self-Portrait'

Rembrandt van Rijn and I are locked in one final staring contest, and it looks as if he's going to win . . . again. But don't blame me for trying. This self-portrait from 1659 in the National Gallery of Art's West Building is one of the most arresting paintings ever slopped onto a canvas, conveying such vitality, such life, I'm convinced old Remy has to blink someday.

Fourth Street and Constitution Avenue NW, 202-737-4215, http://www.nga.gov.

A Jog on the Mall

Every time I hear someone chomping on ice cubes ( crunch-crunch-crunch) or crumpling gift wrap ( crunch-crunch-crunch), I feel the irrepressible urge to go jogging on the pebbly paths of the Mall ( crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch). It's a beautiful morning for a run, and I leave my iPod at home, knowing that no song can eclipse the motivational sound of gravel crunching underneath my cross-trainers.

Between Third and 14th streets, and Madison and Jefferson drives, http://www.nps.gov/nama.

American Indian Museum Cafeteria

I enjoy astronaut ice cream as much as the next dude, but aside from that the Mall has never been kind to hungry tourists. Thankfully, the National Museum of the American Indian's Mitsitam Native Foods Cafe has changed that, serving some of the tastiest plates a sightseer could ask for. On the day I visit, the cafeteria is mobbed with young families, a fleet of Cub Scouts, even a few loners like me -- all gleefully gorging on corn pone, tamales and mashed yucca.

Fourth Street and Independence Avenue SW, 202-633-1000, http://www.nmai.si.edu.

Vace Italian Deli

Ah, Vace. It just smells so . . . crusty. Makes sense: The Cleveland Park eatery boasts the best pizza crust you'll ever bite into. Are the folks milling around the deli counter this afternoon waiting for their pies or just basking in the best-smelling room in Washington?