One of the great things about DC is that there is always somewhere to go. Every street has some point of historical interest; every city corner has some niche to explore. You pick your destination, hop onto the Metro and there you are. And so on a cool Saturday evening, a group of us wandered Pennsylvania Avenue, talking and joking amongst ourselves. While enjoying the night air, the lively strains of a Cab Calloway song soon caught our attention. We drifted towards the music and spotted an outdoor band energetically performing big band and swing music. We were in an area opposite the National Archives. A sizeable group of people had gathered around the bandstand. Couples were dancing the jitterbug while tiny white lights twined among the trees glinted merrily.

A man with dark brown hair and a mustache approached me.

"Dance with me," he invited.

I glanced at my girlfriends and they rolled their eyes back at me. Their look said, 'What the hell, go for it.'

"OK," I told the guy and we bobbed around to what we thought was the swing. As soon as the song ended, Mustache put his arm around me. Hmmm, a bit too touchy-feely for me. I disengaged myself from his arm. "Thanks for the dance. See ya," I said over my shoulder as I walked back towards my group. Mustache didn't seem to be deterred. He asked another girl in our group, Brenna, to dance, which she did. We kept an eye on her and when Mustache started to hump her leg, we rescued her. Some of us decided to boogy in our own little circle until the concert was over.

"So," another girlfriend said, "let's hit the bars."

So that's what we did, but I would always fondly remember the night I jitterbugged under the twinkling lights on Constitution Avenue.

Labels: writing