Scene and Heard
Scene and Heard: A Summer's Rain Dance, but Only They Heard the Music
A silly summer scene, a Shakespearean moment and a father's love.
It was a hot summer afternoon in downtown D.C., and I was sacked out on my friend Ann's couch like a limp rag. A sudden summer downpour rocked the building, and outside I could hear the people on the sidewalks screaming and running for shelter. Trash cans and plastic chairs were blowing across the road while I struggled to push the window shut. Ann peered outside over my shoulder.
"Let's go out there."
Ann can make anything seem like a reasonable idea, and five minutes later I was outside in the rain in Adams Morgan wearing only a badly fitting borrowed swimsuit and a pair of flip-flops. Ann was in an identical outfit relishing every moment of the downpour. Until it stopped. And then there we were.
I was horrified. How could I have let Ann talk me into this? The neighborhood was coming alive again, dozens of people swarming out from the bookstores and cafes they had retreated into, while I jetted off down an alley, jumping over the bags of trash and turned-over trash cans like a steeplechaser.
Ann caught up with me and suggested we cut back up 18th Street to her apartment. That street was a promenade filled with sidewalk cafes and trendy outdoor bars.
I wasn't going to leave the relative privacy of the alley, where I skirted from dumpster to dumpster like a jackal and was just a blur crossing the occasional street. Meanwhile, Ann trotted lightly along behind me, enjoying the wind on her behind and looking for the rainbow she was sure we could see if we weren't stuck in an alley.
-- Adele Levine, Wheaton
Overheard at the Shakespeare Theatre:
Man: Are Richard II and Richard III like Rocky 1 and Rocky 2?