By David Simmons
NORCROSS, Ga. | Years ago, after coming off the Appalachian Trail (AT) in late summer 1988, I ended up in Washington D.C., living on the top floor of a nine-story apartment building just across the street from the Department of Transportation. I could sit out on my balcony and see the Washington Monument and the reflecting pool, and listen to the nightly gunshots coming from off in the distance in northeast D.C.
Even though I had lived in a lot of places all around the country previously, life in downtown D.C. was unlike any I had encountered before. I had to pay a monthly fee to park my car in my building’s underground parking lot, and it was easier to get around without it.
The end of summer and into fall was terrific. To stay in shape for my plans of finishing the AT, I walked all over that city. On my days off, I would be out the door at daybreak and would walk the city from end to end. I walked to and tried to visit every monument and historic place and museum in town.
I was working as the maitre d’/banquet coordinator at The Devon Bar and Grill at 2000 Pennsylvania Avenue, just four blocks from the White House. We had a multifunctional banquet room on our second floor, and my major responsibility was keeping it booked up with all the government agencies and their never-ending luncheon meetings.
My highlight there was meeting my childhood hero and Hall of Fame quarterback Bart Starr. I worked 10-6 Monday to Friday, and had I tried to drive to work, it would take at least an hour, each way, plus having to find and pay for parking. So instead, my daily commute consisted of riding an elevator down to ground level. Then a 10-minute walk to the Metro Station, a 10-minute ride, followed by another 10-minute walk to 2000 Pennsylvania.
Living and working downtown in a big city was new to me and I was not alone in my style of commuting. Streets were teeming with people going about their day-to-day business. New to me were the young, professional women who, while carrying their dress shoes in their handbag, would wear bobby socks and tennis shoes during their commute, then change into their work shoes once they got to their offices.
It caught my eye, and for whatever reason I found it very attractive, and highly stimulating. I was talking to my sister about it, and she laughed and called me a weirdo. She couldn’t understand the attraction. Other than that conversation with my sister, I have kept these feelings to myself, until now.
But I learned something from that conversation and my outlook changed that day. From that revelation I became more tolerant of other sexual preferences and lifestyles.
The reason being, I didn’t make a conscious decision to be stimulated by short skirts, bobby socks and tennis shoes. I just was. That then led me to the realization that people that are different from me didn’t choose what they favor either, they were born that way. Just like me.
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