DC is a Ghost Town
One day before Donald Trump's birthday parade, which is ironically "parading" as an Army celebration, politicians, tourists and residents have cleared out of Capitol Hill.
Father's Day Weekend is upon us in Washington, DC, which usually means many tourist activities and visitors around Capitol Hill and the Smithsonian. I have always been fascinated with the flight patterns of my neighbors, who tend to leave the city altogether by the time we hit July in an East Coast ritual foreign to someone born and raised in Arizona. We used to drive a block down the street to hang out with friends, so the idea of “escaping the heat” still makes me chuckle.
I typically love it when Congress is out of town or the city clears out in August as if it is doing me a personal favor by providing plentiful parking. But, ever since January 6, 2021, everything has been different for the Capitol Hill/Eastern Market area of Washington, DC. The thing you have to understand about this city is that the people who live here, by and large, feel very insulated from politics and the events that typically go with it. When I moved here after law school, I was amazed at how little changed between the switches in administrations, and Congress always had an air of bipartisan bustle.
All of that changed when Donald Trump’s self-indulgent “Stop the Steal” rally led to an insurrection that threatened to move into the Capitol Hill neighborhood. Today, just a day before Donald Trump intends to waste more taxpayer money fawning all over his incredible power with a parade meant to fete his own birthday - you can feel the residual hangover from January 6th more than ever. This was quite visible this morning as I ran to stock up on supplies before the “big to-do,” imagining the tiny Trader Joe’s at Eastern Market, lousy with sunburnt Trump Parade attendees.
I first noticed that the typically packed parking garage was nearly empty, with all the usually parked cars gone. It is Friday, summer, and it is a holiday weekend, I told myself as I was determined not to project my concerns onto what I saw. The store was eerily jumpy in a way that it usually isn't, even when it is crowded on the weekends, and there is no room for anyone to move in any direction. There was plenty of room, but the vibe was more serious and urgent and reminded me of a supermarket just before a hurricane was about to hit.
I asked the lady helping me checkout about the energy and if I was overthinking it. She told me everyone was on edge. Then I told her how much this parade would cost us in repairs, and she quickly got on my level. “Why is he doing this?” she exclaimed excitedly. We both looked at each other and said, “Because he can,” simultaneously. I left with my groceries and more red wine than I typically get and realized I needed to take a little tour around the hood to see what was happening.
I went down Pennsylvania first and noticed that Eastern Market was still fairly busy. As I approached the Hill, the traffic started to wane, and the signs read: “No thru for buses or trucks.” By the time I hit the south side of the Library of Congress, there was practically no one on the streets. I can’t express to you how odd this was, given that this is a hub for tourist activity, and you usually encounter many kids and parents walking around while having to dodge numerous red taxis that are generally everywhere.
Instead, there was a police presence at every intersection, which is typical for the Hill post-insurrection, but my expectation to see more tourists as I got closer to the Air and Space Museum was met with proverbial crickets. The only time I remember things being this quiet on Independence Avenue was during Covid when I used to love taking long drives around the monuments, marveling at the apocalyptic nature of it all. While the crowds are not as intense for the trek down the Hill at the Native American Museum, Air and Space is always packed. Today, only fifty people were outside, and no one was waiting in line. Air and Space, much like our current space program, was deserted.
I wanted to see the stage that Trump intends to build at the forefront of the Mall, and I was forced to turn right when I hit the Hirshhorn Museum, as police cars were completely blocking the streets to vehicles. A giant crane looked to be building the main stage, but I could not see the stage itself, either because of my purview or because the podium was not completely assembled yet. As I was getting ready to head back up the Hill on Constitution, I stopped at a Metro Bus Stop running an ad for the 250th anniversary of the Army in tandem with a “Chrisley Knows Best” poster. Some things are just too obvious to comment on.
As I drove East, up and back toward the Capitol Complex, I noticed that there were even fewer tourists on the streets and hardly any cars in traffic. I was surrounded by black Escalades the entire way, making me think a heavy FBI presence was already in play. The one thing that was not missing was the number of food trucks typically parked up and down these streets. They were all there, ready for business tomorrow, as were empty white tents erected in front of several agencies along the parade route.
Indivisible, one of the activist groups that has organized the No Kings Protest for tomorrow in thousands of cities across the US, has stated explicitly that there will be no protest activity in Washington, DC, to reflect this event's Trump turnout accurately. Organizers were also concerned about the optics of anyone in opposition and how Trump would spin that to look like an unpatriotic and disrespectful display. The irony that we have to be concerned about an insurrectionist calling protesters insurrectionists is so ironic that I am at a loss, but it was a smart move nevertheless to refrain from poking the MAGA bear, especially while they are all hopped up on their over the top posturing.
I remember telling my new cashier friend that at least she didn’t have to worry that too many Trumpers would come into Trader Joe’s tomorrow because it is known as a liberal stronghold of sorts. She laughed and said, “Oh, no…they will be here — we sell beer.” That was probably my first and last laugh about this fiasco coming to my city tomorrow.
Amee Vanderpool writes the SHERO Newsletter, is an attorney, published author, contributor to newspapers and magazines, and an analyst for BBC radio. She can be reached at avanderpool@gmail.com or follow her on Twitter @girlsreallyrule.
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My partner says there are lots of ads on X-Twitter recruiting seat fillers dressed in red, white, and blue for an unspecified event in Washington DC.
I commiserate with all those forced by circumstances to share oxygen with the MAGAts, most especially my dear Amee. One can only hope that the forecast possibility of thunder & lightning (& perhaps a little godly retribution?) will force the chief MAGAt to postpone his laudatory extravagance.
*crossing fingers!*