Tag: columbia heights

Mugging in Columbia Heights Friday Night

Posted on by nolageek

I was walking down Kenyon Street between 14th and 13th on Friday night when two guys ran up to a Hispanic man walking directly across the street from me and started arguing with him for several minutes.. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but suddenly I saw a gun stuck in his face and I dropped it like it was hot behind the nearest car.

I heard one of guys tell him “just give it to me, now!”

As they continued arguing I quickly peeked through the car’s windows and saw them taking his backpack from .. well, his back.. The two started to run away so I crouched back down and started to duckwalk, terrified, around to the front of the car so they wouldn’t shoot me execution style for being such a wuss.

When I saw the victim run the opposite direction I popped up like a Wack-A-Mole and asked him if he was alright. He was on his cell phone, talking in Spanish. I heard him say something about “the other gang” but didn’t hear it in English context so I of course assumed the worst.

Moments later I saw a group of people walking my way. I ran over, pretended to be all butch and brave and told them what had happened. They had seen the guys running down the street and one of them had already dialed 911. One of the guys was describing everything he saw in detail to someone else. It was like Scooby freakin Doo.

One of them, a tall girl maybe 25, took the phone from her friend and was all “he was a black or Hispanic male, approximately five foot nine inches tall with dreads. He was wearing a black jacket and a blue backpack. He was armed.”

I was thinking to myself, “Self. They got all of that information from 200 feet and he was running away from them. You were 20 feet from them, directly across the street for five minutes, and all you have is wet pants.” (From the rain on the ground †.)

Did I mention this was a block from my house?

† and the urine in my shorts.

Most ghetto salad bar in the world.

Posted on by nolageek

After work for the last two weeks or so I’ve been stopping at the Giant Grocery that’s conveniently between the Metro station and my place. Each evening I go there and get a salad from the salad bar. It’s nothing special, but I figure it’s healthier than most of my other options and it’s only $2.68 – with dressing. Easy win, right?

Last night I witnessed the most ghetto salad bar patron in the world.

Curlers? Check. Shower cap? Check. Slippers? Check.

I swear, if the Giant allowed smoking, she would have had a cigarette in her mouth. She was standing in front of all three varieties of greens, blocking my access to all of them. She picked used spinach tongs and proceeded to pick not only the spinich but then used them to shuffle the Iceberg and Romaine around like she was looking for something int he bottom. Occasionally she’d toss a leaf or something from the buckets to her container, but mostly she just appeared to want to take up space and be annoying. She succeed.

When she was finally bored playing with the greens, she THREW THE FUCKING TONGS into the bucket of spinach so full of apathy it was practically utensil neglect, if there was such a thing. Why she hated those tongs so much, I’ll never understand. It doesn’t seem like much, but it was such a blatant disregard for the fact that I was probably going to use them in, oh, 20 seconds.

I could almost hear her thinking “Take your fucking tongs, asshole.”

Next, she moved on to the other parts of the salad bar. She used the same tongs for the shredded cheddar, the blue cheese and the shredded carrots. She used the same scoop for the croutons and the broccoli. It wasn’t the fact that the was doing it necessarily — I’m sure I’ve accidentally done this as well — it was just the dissociation she had with everyone waiting for her to finish while doing it.

By the time she left there were croutons in the broccoli, cheese in the lettuce, broccoli in the cucumbers. There was sunflower seeds in with the carrots, cauliflower in the feta. She just fucked the whole salad bar up, throwing food and tongs around like she owned the place.

I so so happy to see her close the lid of her plastic container and walk away that I hardly cared that she drug a piece of broccoli through the vat of cottage cheese and popped it in her mouth as she left.

Just a thought about the metro’s escalators.

Posted on by nolageek

Does it seem to anyone else that the DC Metro’s idea of “modernizing” an escalator is to completely disassemble it and then leave it untouched for a few weeks?

Maybe they figure if they wait a while to re-build it (with the same parts as pre-modernization) that no one will notice it’s still jacked up. Until, as is the case of Columbia Heights’ station, it breaks down once more after a week or two.

It’s like New Coke all over again. And again. And again. It’s not just modernized, it’s Escalator Classic!

Escalators at chinatown.

A picture is worth 224 pounds

Posted on by nolageek

Ok. They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Since I don’t feel like blabbering on and on for a thousand words about how I’ve gained over 15 pounds since I’ve moved to DC (really, since I’ve stopped riding my bike and started working again) I’ll simply bring your attention to this photo of me, taken by Jason last week at the New Orleans D-Day Museum’s Sound of Music Sing Along.

I know. Holy shit, right?

I look massive. It’s a bad angle and I’m making a face, etc… but really. REALLY. I think Gina was flagging down another whole Turducken for me to gnaw on during the intermission.

Prior to the visit home I was at a friend house using the facilities and happened upon his bathroom scale. Curiosity got the better of me. I boarded the device, looked down and was bummed to find I weighed 224lbs. 224lbs is exactly 50lbs over my “ideal weight” and the heaviest I’ve been since High School (I was 265lbs). In 1994 I lost 70 pounds on Atkins, back when Atkins was still considered ‘experimental and dangerous’ but I said ‘fuck it’ and was down to 195lbs in 7 months.

Since losing that weight, I’ve shrugged off any weight gain since I had lost so much back then and ‘only gained 10 pounds’ which didn’t seem so bad. 10lbs became 20 and now it’s become 30 and it’s time to do something about it.

Sure, I could go on Atkins again but the last three times I cut out the carbs I wasn’t able to shit for 2 weeks — that’s just not worth it. I need to start riding my bike again, so I’m going to start riding to the Dupont Metro Station and then taking the train to work from there.

Really, I need to join a gym.

The decision was between Gold’s Gym in Rockville, MD and Washington Sports Club in Columbia Heights, DC.

Gold’s Gym, Rockville, MD

One of the big marks in the plus column for Gold’s gym was that it’s two just blocks from my work — I have to pass the damn place three times a day: walking to work from the metro, during lunch, and walking from work back to the metro.

Last week I paid Gold’s Gym a visit and was glad to see lots of other fat people sweating it out on cardio machines; at least I wouldn’t be the only one. :) The gym had tons of studios for classes and spinning rooms and I was VERY excited about joining, until I sat down with the Membership Nazi Counselor. I won’t say names, let’s call him Mr. High Pressure Membership Salesman. Honestly, I thought I was going to walk out the building with keys to a used car, not a gym contract. He’d ask me various obvious questions then cut off my answers with answers of his own, he scribbled half assed notes about everything I said (repeating things back to me in his ‘enthusiastic voice’) all the while making it clear he was thinking more about his commission than anything I was saying.

For instance, he asked me to rate my motivation on a scale of 1 to 10. When I said 8 he wrote this down in the margin and circled it, for no reason. He asked me what the ‘biggest’ I had ever been and I said I was almost 270 in high school but I had gotten down to 194, which was still 20 more than my ‘ideal weight.’ While telling him this, he cut me off, saying “so you want to try to get up to that weight again, huh?” as if my fat ass is Lou Farigno or something.

Look at me. Do I look like I have ever been 270lbs of muscle? Ever?

The other mark in Gold’s favor was the website has this promotion on it: “$0 registration, $49 a month.” So, I say I want that plan. Somehow he started talking how this thing was included and that was free, so after a while he starts slipping things in that AREN’T free, like training sessions, but are apparently required to get that specific membership plan… So anyway, he shows me the price schedule for trainers and classes that I was interested in and it came out to $588 a month.

On top of the $49 membership fee.

Oh, and first and last month’s membership was due at signing. (Liscenceandregistationfeenotincluded)

Yeah, fuck that, right?

So, I ask about the other rate (that doesn’t require you to have personal training sessions) and it’s $169 registration and (I think) $59 a month.

*sigh*

At this point he ‘left me alone to think about my intentions,’ like I was some kid on time out at fat camp, which just pissed me off. Any chance he had of getting me to join was nullified by his arrogant attitude and subtle subterfuge. (For you, alliteration fans.)

If you ever read my blog, Mr. High Pressure Membership Salesman, write this down in the margin of the next person’s application and circle it: get over myself.

Washington Sports Club, Columbia Heights

That was last Tuesday. Last night I stopped by Washington Sports Club to check them out. WSC is about 100 yards from my metro stop and 3 blocks from my house. Keith, the Membership Guy, was very nice and showed me around the gym for about 10 minutes answering the few questions I had about peak times and using other WSC gyms. The facility wasn’t really as snazzy as Golds, but they had the same equipment and it was all just a few months old since they just opened. Just as important, the staff seemed much less like sleazoid gym pimps. After seeing the equipment and the naked man in the locker room I asked what the membership fee was and he said: $88 down. $55 a month. 15 day money back guarantee. $25 if I cancel before my contract is up.

Sold.

So:

Gym membership: Check!
Goofy white tennis shoes: Check!
Sliky shorts: Check!

Fuck. Now I have to go to the gym. :)