Words By: Erick Gibson

I finally got a day off -- a day designated to be free of bizzyness. Probably I should've gone skating. A day spent skating is a righteous day indeed. A day that leaves you filled with peace and ready for a good night's sleep. Instead I chose to spend the day catching up with Chris Donmoyer. I've known Chris long enough that I should have known this choice would mean there would be little sleep and even less peace. The following is my sleepless, wild-eyed account of 16 hours spent running amuck alongside the residents of our nation's capital.

Why choose the District to showcase the subversive antics of Chris 'the Don' Donmoyer? Power and Money, of course! I wanted to catch the Richard Avedon: Portraits of Power photo exhibit at the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. And I also needed money. I've been running a video-camera-rent-to-own business on the side and needed to make an overdue collection from a long-term debtor named Bobby Spero. And so, with power and money in mind -- Roadtrip to D.C. it would be.

Car parked and we're loose on the scene. "Son of a gun!" A trio of women accidentally wrap themselves into low hanging branches along the 17th St sidewalk. Chris and I struggle to weave our way through their jumble of tangled hair and bulging hip packs. We eat cafeteria style while waiting for my mark, Bobby, and my vidcam blood money.

Killer moments at the Avedon photography exhibit. Bobby, Chris, and I pass through decades of Avedon's photographs of politicians and soldiers, writers and activists, artists and napalm victims. Historical events are re-presented for us in black and white, image and text. Many years after they were written, we are still moved by the words of the Chicago 7. We ponder the tragic comedy of Charlie Chaplin fleeing America. Tragically, Bobby has to go to work. Actually I'm glad he has a job. I'm almost finished being a loan shark.

Chris and I aren't yet ready to leave behind the visceral experiences D.C. has to offer. Mt. Pleasant is designated as our next target. Intel has it that one can enjoy a quiet drink amongst friends in a dive bar atmosphere. While freestyling cuts from Xzibit's debut album, At the Speed of Life, we circle the block and try to draw attention to ourselves. Recon indicates TONIC has the highest probability of satisfying our primary and secondary objectives. We walk in around 6pm for the early bird special and intend to blend, go native. We fail miserably and are immediately recognized for the outsiders we are.

Chris and Erick are 1 beer buzzed beyond belief. Chris and Erick are 2 hobbit-sized short people in a federal world of tall buildings, bulging fanny packs, and broad suits with padded shoulders. Everywhere is a 2 hour parking limit. 6 minutes for a dime. But, Chris and Erick have been parked at this dark wooden bar top for 4 hours listening to 90's alt rock and loving it. It is October 2nd. The Vice Presidential debate is going to be played on the bar televisions at 9pm. The neighborhood patrons of this bar are all here. There is standing room only and the air is thick with alcoholic fume and socio-economi-political queasiness. Chris is frightened by the long walk to the toilet. But, Chris still loves his neighbors. He loves them each individually all night. He photographs all of them with his point and shoot digicam. Rage Against the Machine.

The debates have ended. Chris has made friends with an attractive female bartender. Is this an episode of Cheers? How is it we are still here after 4 hours and about to breach the topic of relationships with the bartender? Could these free wine coolers somehow have been the culprit behind our lack of mobility? The television offers Vietnam on DVD. "No thanks, we've got our own war to watch." Chris and the bartender pass notes to each other written on the back of credit card roll paper. Exactly how much credit card roll was used in the service of handwritten notes by 2a.m.? I will never know. But, my faith in the power of the 'Do you like me? Yes or No' checkbox note has been restored. Surprisingly, it remains a powerful means of breaking the ice with women. Who knew? It's so democratic. All American. Like voting! Try it. Use it. Let me know what happens. 6 hours of bar blending and we've gone native. We know the issues. We know the score. History was unfolding and Chris and I were there to watch -- right in the hometown of the political tug o' war.

2:30 a.m. The streets of the Capital are peaceful, though the nation and it's people are not. The stunt woods are out of the car and under our feet. 2 hours of cruising dark empty streets and then we're back on Rte 95. We head north talking loudly about the events of the day, so we can stay awake. Cafeteria style lunch, twenty one dollars. Gallery entrance fee with student ID, ten dollars. "Did you see that guy's penis?" Priceless. Watching Chris Donmoyer talk to women, while riding a donkey statue painted like a schoolbus...Epic.