Every year, I look forward to this day. Not because it’s the start of a three-day weekend (at a weekly newspaper that goes to press on Tuesday night, three day weekends mean torture). Not because football season is starting, though that’s always a bonus. Not because the temperatures are falling, because September in D.C. can be grueling.

It’s because I get to laugh at the AAA annual Labor Day travel forecast, or the biggest fraud this side of I-95.

This year’s projections don’t disappoint. Here’s a Bloomberg report on the AAA conclusions:

The number of people taking trips of at least 50 miles from home today through Sept. 1 will fall 0.9 percent from a year earlier to 34.4 million, according to AAA, the largest U.S. motorist group. That would make Labor Day the third straight U.S. holiday with a decline.

Zero-point-nine percent? How’re they coming up with that number? Do you think they like the decimals just to give the impression of exactitude here?

Never doubt AAA. As this paper reported in 2005, the travel survey is “based in part on a telephone survey of 1,300 U.S. adults and in part on a “proprietary forecasting model developed by [the Travel Industry Association],” according to an AAA official. The TIA thing is called the Holiday Travel Forecast Model.

And if the Holiday Travel Forecast Model says that 0.9 percent fewer people will hit the road this Labor Day, then by golly, enjoy those wide-open roads and security checkpoints!

Finally an ad campaign that both the brightest young things and the geezers can get behind: A YouTube viral commercial that evokes global warming and is modeled after the “duck and cover” reels from our parents’ youth. And, oh yeah, it also promotes Ocean City, Md., using its mayor as the straight man.

The commercial, which aired in the D.C. and Baltimore markets in June (notably during the NBA playoffs) has since filled about 66,000 computer screens. It was produced by Alexandria-based MRB Films. Senior Producer there Tracy Sacks says that before filming, OC Mayor Rick Meehan watched an STD-warning spot from the ’40s or ’50s (”Men: Be careful when you go out”…) so that he could strike the right tone. It also aired on radio, where it took on a War of the Worlds feel. Seriously, though. The oceans are still evaporating. Labor Day approaches. Let’s all go and leave this mess.

This might be my final installment into the saga that is the life of Captain Melvin Gresham—a D.C. Police Department official who appears to always be in the center of intrigue and controversy. According to his civil-suit complaint filed in June, Gresham is a hero/whistle blower/all-around standup cop. To cop sources, he’s a supervisor who needs some leadership training asap.

“I had to bang heads with him, very disagreeable is the way he investigated things. He never has any proof. When we go to arbitration against him, he loses most of the arbitrations. We’ve had several arbitration hearings with our members and he’s lost. All the evidence is, ‘What I heard.’ Nothing ever of substance. He never has any real evidence against anybody. When you’re a policeman, you have to have solid facts,” says one veteran officer.

Gresham has his followers. Many of whom have commented on this post and our last installment.

The current Gresham dustup stems from a traffic accident. The allegation: Gresham got into a fender bender and pressured an officer to change the accident report in his favor.

In Gresham’s complaint, he addresses the accident on page 10, bullet-point No. 23. Or rather, he dances around the allegations, focusing mainly on picking apart the testimony and character of Lt. Mike Smith.

The complaint hones in on anonymous letter (was it written by Smith?), Smith’s believing that Gresham is a very rich man, and the allegation that Smith admitted to “tampering” with evidence. “Lt. Smith was off duty and had no actual basis for interjecting himself into the investigation,” the complaint states.

The complaint notes that the police department withdrew the charges against Gresham. “However, Chief Lanier insisted on serving Cpt. Gresham an official reprimand.” The reprimand addresses the very serious allegation of witness intimidation:

According to the complaint, the reprimand reads:

“Internal Affairs Agent Denise Garrett investigated the alleged misconduct. Agent Garrett determined that your demeanor and subsequent confrontation with the reporting officer was intimidating and may have jeopardized the impartiality of the accident investigation.”

Read the rest of this entry »

Last Thursday, Eastern Senior High School’s marching band paraded through the streets of Capitol Hill, west to Lincoln Park and then back on East Capitol Street. There was no actual event going on. The band was just practicing.

“Honestly, we do it a lot,” says staff band leader James Perry. “A lot of the times, the cars don’t mind. We never get any honks. They roll down the window and bop along.”

Although it’s the dead of summer, Eastern’s band convened every weekday last week, according to Perry. The reason: next Saturday, August 2, the group is expected to play in a parade for the Pro Football Hall of Fame Enshrinement Festival in Canton, Ohio.

The key word here is “expected.”

This year, six people will be inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Two of them are known for their time with the Washington Redskins: cornerback Darrell Green, and wide receiver Art Monk.

In April, the Eastern band was contacted by a parade coordinator, and asked to apply “to represent D.C.” as part of the festivities, says Perry. After the group was selected to play in the parade, Eastern students began raising money holding car washes and selling candy in school. The band does not plan to stay over in Canton. They’re just fund-raising for the bus ride, which amounts to $3,900. Roughly 65 to 70 musicians, as well as six dancers and six flag girls, will be going. Each student is responsible for raising $70 for his or her passage, says Perry.

The group was relying on paychecks from students’ jobs with the Department of Employment Services’ Summer Youth Program. But, when the District’s payment system failed, many were left with insufficient funds to cover their shares. As of the last count, the group had $500 total. Read the rest of this entry »

This weekend I came across the greatest find since moving to D.C. Caveat: My interests tend to skew less toward record stores and more toward woodland creatures. If yours do, too (hey, I know it’s a stretch, but the blog is lookin’ light today, OK?), you should check out Prince William Forest Park. Once you have your immigration papers in order, that is. They don’t like them illegals there, you know, but there are 15,000 acres, so it’s easy enough to get lost no matter who you are. That’s what’s great about this place.

From D.C., the park is only about 35 miles down the road, right off I-95 and the Marine Corps training site at Quantico. That means that in less than an hour, you could be set up at a wonderful campsite deep in the woods for 15 bucks a night. The Oak Ridge Campground inside the park has nearly 100 sites and is located 5.5 miles down wooded roads from the visitor center. Stop in there to get a great map of the park. Each of the three campground loops has decent bathrooms and a water spigot; Loop A has a shower, even, for those who do that sort of nonsense while camping. There are no hookups, however, a blessed deletion for tent campers (there won’t be any retirees and their obnoxious RVs anywere nearby. In fact, having had a few bad experiences with the RV/generator crowd, I found this place with the help of The Best in Tent Camping: Virginia: A Guide for Car Campers Who Hate RVs, Concrete Slabs, and Loud Portable Stereos). One aspect the book fails to play up is the spaciousness of the sites, especially compared to some of the puny ones inside Shenandoah National Park. Each comes with a fire ring and a pole to hang a lantern.

Beware the raccoons, though; they’re cheeky, so hide your grub. Also, I found a tick on my person, quickly tweezed off and killed, so bring some spray, but for god’s sake don’t whine about ticks. Just be careful.

Best of all: There are 37 miles of hiking trails maintained by the Potomac Appalacian Trail Club; several nice ones start right at the campground. The North Valley Trail includes a lovely stretch along Quantico Creek to Lake Quantico Falls and the former Pyrite Mine, abandoned in 1920 after workers went on strike for a 50-cent raise. Apparently, they don’t like them unions in Prince William, either.

This past weekend, I drove to the Catskills for a friend’s 40th birthday party. Oh, the media luminaries with whom I wined and dined! And you know what? Many of them like Rush. But I digress. Across the street from my hotel, you could get a really good sandwich at Hogan’s deli. Yes, it was called the Hogan’s Hero. Still digressing. Near the cash registers was a trove of Snickers Charged, which is like Snickers, but with 60 mg of caffeine, 250 mg of taurine (which, according to Wikipedia, contributes to “inhibitory neurotransmission,^[9] long-term potentiation in the striatum/hippocampus, membrane stabilization, feedback inhibition of neutrophil/macrophage respiratory bursts, adipose tissue regulation, calcium homeostasis and recovery from osmotic shock“), and 10 percent of the U.S. RDA of both vitamins B-6 and B-12.

I ate one on the ride home. First, it made my eyelids vibrate. Then I was shouting, “IN YOUR FACE, BIN LADEN!” as we careered down I-83. Stopped at a Cracker Barrel in York, Pa., too, but that’s a story for another post.

Photo by ~Twon~

Today marks Day 2 of the already controversial Bolt Bus era, and Jule’s long-awaited maiden voyage. She called in from the road—the bus has wi-fi; Jule doesn’t have a laptop—with her list:

5. There was a guy standing at 11th and G in a Bolt Bus golf shirt letting passangers know where to wait. This seemed impressive.
4. It’s not sold out.
3. Improved legroom—tall people seem comfortable.
2. Complete lack of pee smell
1. Round trip to New York: $4.50

Everyone is very excited about Bolt Bus. DC to New York for $1, with wireless and no pee smell! I didn’t believe it. So I went online, and started booking. I ordered tickets for more than a month from know and it still rang up at $7 one-way. Ok, fine I thought. Not quite the best deal, but still better than Chinatown. Four tries later, I still haven’t gotten the website to work. It acts like it’s thinking, with a little lightening bolt symbol popping up, but nothing happens, ever. Has anyone gotten this thing to actually work?

Too good to be true? I’ll let you know, but it looks like the new BoltBus service, which starts making daily runs between the District (11th and G) and two stops in Manhattan (33rd and 7th, Canal and 6th) this month, will regularly offer tickets starting at a buck, plus a 50-cent fee. I just bought two roundtrip tickets for $5.

Prices go up as the buses get full—and more people catch on. According to Washington Biz Journal, tickets will more typically fall within the $30-$40 rage. That’s comparable to Greyhound, which owns the service. The difference between the parent and the child companies?

1. WiFi accessibility

2. Less of a pee smell until the buses are broken in

3. Frequent rider program: Take eight trips, the 9th is supposedly free, with no blackout dates or restrictions

4. Hello? Tickets for a buck

Last night, I awoke in the darkness to the sound of a low buzzing near my ear. A woman who was temporarily sleeping in my apartment was attempting to reach me by telephone. Though I questioned why she had called me from such close proximity, I answered.

“Hello,” I said.

“I found a mouse,” the woman informed me. As we were both stationed within the apartment, I could hear her voice clearly without the aid of the telephone. Still, we did not abandon the mechanism. “It ran under a pile of clothes,” she added.

Months earlier, my landlord spoke of a similar class of rodents that had invaded his home in search of shelter and food scraps. He informed me that though he had once been pestered by the vermin, he and his housemates had since been able to systematically locate, isolate, and delete the creatures. A housemate explained one particularly cruel game they had played: “All I had to do was corner the mouse into the sink,” she said. “Then, I took hold of the spray faucet and shot the mouse until it had drowned.”

I did not relate this to the woman over the telephone. “What should I do?” she asked me.

Several years ago, while living in the Los Santos province of Panama, I found the helix of my ear caught between the jaws of a large and brazen rat. I had been sleeping soundly at the time–lost in the midst of a strange, hallucinatory dream, the specifics of which I do not recall–when the rat approached, squeaked violently, and bit. After the modest flow of blood from my head confirmed that I was not, in fact, still hallucinating, I located a man outside my domicile for help. The man offered me illicit drugs, an oversized conch shell with which to conceal a gaping, rat-friendly hole in my bedroom wall, and an outdoor hammock as a temporary bed. I accepted two of his offers.

Back in my apartment, I considered the mouse. I had no drugs, nor shells; my sole hammock was folded deep within my closet, out of use during the cool winter months.

“Sleep on the futon,” I suggested to the woman. “I will call my landlord in the morning.”

I recently flew into Dulles, and, as every time I fly, I was shocked by the amount of noise with which the FSA/airline/whoever insists on barraging its customers. When you wait to go through security, not only is there a repeating loop of what you can and can’t bring on the flight, but there is always one employee who repeatedly yells the exact same information. I’m almost used to this. But the one that I find most egregious is in those strange monster truck-type cars you have to take to go to different terminals. For the entire ride, a sedated woman’s voice tells you that you’re in a vehicle that is taking you to a different terminal, and that if you look out the window, you can see planes. And then she repeats it. And again. Who in the hell doesn’t know why they’re there? Or that they’re looking at a plane? Really, it’s just insulting. Traveling would be much nicer if we could just get a little silence.

As the Washington Times reports, Rep. Bob Filner of California got fined $100 for some minor violence he let go on a United Airlines baggage employee at Dulles this summer.

Filner entered an Alford plea in the case, allowing there is sufficient evidence to convict him on the charges, but not actually admitting guilt. Good for him. What’s there to feel guilty about?

As the accusation goes, Filner flipped out when his bags were held up and gave the baggage lady a shove or two. Not conduct becoming of a legislator, for sure, but who hasn’t dreamed of kicking an airline employee’s ass from time to time?

WaPo is out of the Thanksgiving news cycle gate early this year, with the following story from Kendra Marr: “Airlines Warn of Long Lines On Holidays.” In what has to be the grandest understatement ever, the story talks about the possibility that flights will be 90 percent full. My own guess would be 115 percent. There’s also some suggestion that airports will be stocking up on food and drinks to give to passengers who remained stalled on runways. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.

The story prompted some classic Internet nastiness on the comments section, as evidenced by this comment:

I just heard there will be people shopping that weekend too, get on it Post, send a reporter to a mall parking lot today!!!! Get a quote from a shopper, point the camera to cars waiting to get out of the mall, put those media degrees to work!!

And that’s exactly what the Post will do and should do. Just as Thanksgiving is about culinary and family traditions, it’s about news-consuming traditions. And one of the most delectable courses in that meal is kicking your feet up, taking a sip of wine, and reading about how all those wretched souls spent Wednesday evening sitting on the tarmac/Interstate/bus station.

Getting to New York City is a pain in the ass. Amtrak’s too expensive. Peter Pan buses are overpriced, and air circulation and clean seats don’t seem to be a company priority, in my experience. Reviews of all those Chinatown lines have been so mixed, I’m afraid try them.

But last summer, I thought I found my solution: Vamoose Express Bus Service. At $25 for a one-way ticket, the rides were cheaper than Peter Pan’s, the buses were cleaner, and service was pretty much on time. What a godsend.

This past Saturday morning, as I waited in Bethesda for my Vamoose bus to arrive, my good fortune seemed to be coming to an end. According to a company representative, Vamoose drivers had gone on strike. There were still buses running, but not as many. A few people had seats, and to everyone else: enjoy your weekend, and best of luck getting to NYC.

I got a spot. But I figured my future stress-free travels to Manhattan were over: Vamoose was joining the ranks of the unreliable.

Well, maybe not. When I called Vamoose today to inquire about said strike, I found out it never existed in the first place, according to company spokesperson Florence Bluzenstein. The company representative made up the strike to cover for a driver who simply forgot to make a second stop in Bethesda, she said.

Seriously? I asked. Bluzenstein’s response follows.

“I don’t understand it either. I was in Florida…This was an employee we hired just temporarily for the weekend. He messed it up. He thought it was very funny, he didn’t realize that it wasn’t funny. We had two buses, and a third was supposed to come from the other stop…instead of just telling people the truth, he thought it would be very funny to say the drivers were on strike. He thought it was a cute option. We found out about it when the e-mails started to come in. I was horrified because I had no internet connection in my hotel for a day. I called the office and said ‘what is going on? Why are people asking about a strike?’ That’s when I found out about it. There’s nothing to worry about. It was a mix-up on the dispatchers end…but instead of calling someone up, (the company representative) just took it upon himself to make that kind of a statement…But, there was no strike. No strike at all.”

Yesterday, I rode on Southwest Airlines flight 113, which goes from Albany to Baltimore to Houston to Los Angeles to Oakland and then on to Boise. If you stayed for the whole trip, you’d get at least eight packets of peanuts.