While most of the rest of the country thinks that Washington, D.C. is one place on the banks of the Potomac, those who live here know differently: Washington and the District of Columbia are two very different cities that happen to occupy the same 68 square miles.
Washington is a seat of power and authority, a hub of business and culture, and a place where people from all over the world come to see the sights and engage with the United States. The District, by contrast, is a crime-ridden and poverty-stricken place where broken people live broken lives and where people from all over the world don't go, fearing for their safety. In Washington, lobbyists spend millions to secure billions in federal funding. In the District, people are desperate for your pocket change. In Washington, a crook ocasionally gets elected, but he's always from somewhere else and folks pretend not to know or care about his private life. In the District, homegrown crooks are near and dear to the people's hearts, and a crackhead can be elected to four terms as mayor and at least one on the city council.
It's not always clear where one begins and the other ends; it isn't just a matter of staying on the right side of H street. Living in DC means you get to walk past the US Capitol every day on your way to work, but it also means you might get mugged just a few blocks from the Capitol if you aren't careful. Living in DC means you get to take advantage of a world-class public transportation system (the Metro), but it also means you're likely to return home to find your car has been stolen, ticketed, booted, or towed.
This divide affects me every day. I love living in Washington; I hate living in the District. I love that I can walk to the National Gallery of Art and see a different Shakespeare play nearly every month. I love the best church I've ever found, which is here. But I hate being stranded on one side of the city because all the roads have been shut down for a marathon. And I really, really detest dealing with the District's government.
I had to visit the city courthouse five times before I could get a marriage license. I've gotten more parking tickets than I can count, and my car has been booted and then towed after I paid the fine for which the boot had been placed. Recently I sold the car, canceled my insurance, and turned in my license plates to the DMV. That's the end of that headache, right? Nope. I received a letter in the mail telling me I'd been fined $171.50 because I didn't do it in the proper order. An order I searched for, in vain, on the DMV's web site before I sold the car. Now I've been fined $171.50 on account of a car I don't even own anymore.
I love this city, and I will miss it when we move away. But in some ways, I hate this city, and I can't wait to be gone.
