WHITE WEDDING, DARK CHAPEL
An Alexandria bride awoke Saturday to find her home and her church without power. It made for a memorable wedding.
The soon-to-be-Mrs. searched her neighborhood until she found a house with a generator. She knocked on the door of people she had never met. “I’m sorry, but can I blow dry my hair at your house? It’s my wedding day.”
Her bridesmaids got ready in a Starbucks bathroom. And the ceremony was moved from outside, where temperatures were creeping toward 100 degrees, into the darkened church.
But it wasn’t too hot — a helpful attendee scrounged up paper fans from a local funeral home for the guests.
NEXT STATION: BALTIMORE
Dressed in neon-yellow vests and with hard hats in hand, two workers eyed the Red Line map one Washington morning.
“That’s College Park,” the older of the two explained to his colleague, who was new to the area. The newbie stared back quizzically.
“Home of the University of Maryland?” the veteran tried again.
Another blank stare.
“Where’s Baltimore?” replied the younger worker.
“Baltimore? That’s not on here. The closest would be Greenbelt.”
NIGHTMARE ON MAPLE STREET
“There’s a bloodbath on your front porch. … It’s a death scene.”
Not what you want to hear from your real estate agent while driving back from a weekend in New Jersey. But that’s the call one Alexandria woman received. She was 99 percent sure that her mom’s tiny black cat, Amigo, had been inside when she locked up for the weekend. But that 1 percent of doubt was looming large as the woman rushed home.
When she pulled up to her home between Old Town and Del Ray, there was indeed blood trailing up the walkway and a lot of it on the stairs. The woman opened the door, and waited.
A long, loud meow came from behind the basement door.
Apparently, relief can be defined as “not having to tell your mom her cat died.”
As for the bloody steps, small towns love a mystery — but this one has the neighbors on Maple Street stumped.
CHOPPING BLOCK
“Did you see the statistic that the government spends more on military bands than its entire budget for the National Endowment for the Humanities and National Endowment for the Arts?” a man asked a woman as they hurried down the Eastern Market Metro escalator on a windy Washington morning.
Behind them, a woman interrupted: “Oh please, don’t cut them anymore.”
It’s Washington, of course, where nearly everyone has a connection to the federal government.
“I work there,” she added, as she bustled down the escalator.
DADDY’S GIRL
A College Park 2-year-old was drawing a picture of her father: nice round circles for the body and face, sticks for arms and legs, two eyes, a smile and a tie.
“That’s really great,” said the dad, who had seen the girl draw his portrait before. He suggested she try drawing something new, like Nemo. He pointed to her stuffed orange-and-white fish.
“Daddy,” she said. “I’m only a kid. I can’t draw that.”
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