After five hours crammed into this seat on a red-eye from San Francisco, I can tell by the shift in the plane, that we’ve started our decent into IAD. Its another bi-coastal BBQ week for me, and I can’t wait to be home.
Home, where the South Asian driver of the Washington Flyer taxi and I will have a long talk about Pakistani politics as we glide past iconic symbols of our nation and then drop into the green valley of Rock Creek park.
Home, where my block party neighbours will be just waking, about to take their morning walks around the neighbourhood, where I shall soon join them with my personal Taxi in tow.
Home, where my half-million dollar mortgage shelters my still-sleeping wife, who let’s me travel even with a Ziggy on the way.
Home, where after a decade I feel I have found my place, my life, a whole community of good friends and great times that make me love this great city.
Home, I love Washington DC because its my home.
