No, kiddo...that's not chalk dust

When I first worked here in the District two years ago as a summer law clerk, I quickly realized that this city takes the "work hard, play hard" slogan to heart. The bar I practically lived at then had a 2 for 1 "happy hour" that was actually from 5-9 p.m. every night. Wouldn't that just make it a happy night? One of my other favorite new "happy hours" is the "Beat the Clock" happy hour at Nellie's Gay Sports Bar. Yes...it starts at 5 and ends at 8. Each hour, the price for happy hour drinks goes up a dollar...prompting the homo professionals to guzzle liquor at a faster rate...earlier in the evening...to keep more money in their pocket. Wow.

Anyway...that's just to give you a sense, for better or for worse, that this city likes to cozy up with something other than a good book when they're off the clock. Then, came this story in the Metro section. I think it was particularly snarky for the reporter to mention that the kids at this school thought of the baby crack dealing teacher as "the coolest woman alive." I'll bet she was...


Teacher Gave Kids Drugs, Police Say
Ex-Wootton High Instructor Charged With Distributing Cocaine to 2 Students

By Katherine Shaver and Sarah Marston
Washington Post Staff Writers
Wednesday, August 27, 2008; B01

The students who put together the 2007 yearbook at Thomas S. Wootton High School in Rockville dubbed Theresa C. Duarte "the coolest woman alive."

But Montgomery County police say the former English teacher and yearbook adviser's relationship with two students turned criminal in June, when she gave them cocaine -- one of them on two occasions -- in her Rockville home.

Duarte, 44, of the 1000 block of Brice Road, was arrested Monday on a warrant charging her with two counts of distributing narcotics and two counts of contributing to delinquent conditions of a child. Police said that they were investigating whether additional students received drugs from Duarte.

Duarte resigned from Wootton in mid-June, at the end of last school year, for personal reasons, Principal Michael Doran said. Doran said school officials are cooperating with police but don't believe Duarte provided any drugs on campus. The investigation did not begin until after her resignation, police said.

"I'm shocked," Doran said of Duarte's arrest. "It came out of the blue. I'm disappointed if any adult takes advantage of his or her position as a teacher and role model. . . . She was popular, and she produced a good yearbook. She seemed like a regular teacher." Cute. Real cute.

Doran said he didn't know the two students' names. He added that he was discouraged that news of the arrest yesterday marred an otherwise successful start to a new school year for the campus of 2,500 students.

In a charging document, Detective Karen Carvajal wrote that a current Wootton student, identified only as "Student A," reported receiving cocaine from Duarte twice in June. Another student, identified as "Student B," received cocaine from Duarte just before school ended in June, when Duarte still worked at Wootton, Carvajal wrote.

In an Aug. 20 interview with police, Carvajal wrote, Duarte said she kept cocaine in her bathroom and acknowledged giving some to two students.

"Duarte stated she could not remember when she gave student A cocaine," the detective wrote. "However, she believes it was approximately one week after she gave cocaine to student B."

Carvajal wrote that she found a straw, a folded paper and a small amount of white powder, believed to be cocaine, while searching Duarte's home.

Duarte was released from the Montgomery County Detention Center yesterday after posting $150,000 bail. William C. Brennan, an attorney for Duarte, declined to comment yesterday.

Police said they began investigating Duarte on Aug. 19, after county Child Protective Services officials said they had received information that Duarte was providing illegal drugs to Wootton students. Police said they did not know why the two students were at Duarte's home and are not releasing their ages to protect their identities.

"This is still very much an ongoing investigation to find out if there are any other incidents," said officer Tenesha Jensen, a Montgomery police spokeswoman.

Kate Harrison, a spokeswoman for the school system, said Duarte had taught at Wootton since fall 2004. The school's principal said that Duarte did not teach English last year but worked part time as a yearbook adviser.

A former student of Duarte's at Wootton said last night that she was highly regarded.

"She's the best," said Chad Meyers, a sophomore at Virginia Tech, who graduated from Wootton in 2007. ''Everyone loved her," he said. "She's such a sweetheart.

"This story is crazy," he added. "It's the most ridiculous thing."

She began her Montgomery teaching career during the 2003-04 school year as a long-term substitute teacher at Albert Einstein High School in Kensington, Harrison said.

Duarte had just completed a master's degree in teaching at Johns Hopkins University when she joined the Wootton staff, according to an August 2004 newsletter published by the school's PTSA.

Before teaching, she had graduated summa cum laude from the University of Maryland and had earned an MBA from Johns Hopkins, the newsletter said. She had "left a highly successful business career in marketing to return to her first love, English," and she attended a Johns Hopkins program that allows students to earn their master's in teaching while working in Montgomery schools.

Supervisors and students at Einstein gave her "rave reviews" as an intern and teacher there, the newsletter said.

Congress' Bitch Takes to the Streets of Denver!

Was it just me, or did most of the Democratic Convention look like a Nationals game, where all the fans knew we were going to lose by the 2nd inning and took to the aisles to hunt down the nearest purveyor of booze and hot dogs? Those were some BORING looking speakers...UNTIL...Hillary. Thank god. It's like she hit the home run that the convention needed to justify the ungodly amount they probably spent on that set.

That aside...we District residents may have been the bastard child at the convention, but that doesn't mean we didn't make our voices heard!

For those of you who don't already know, one of the District's most endearing characteristics is its sad state of political representation. You see, they were cunning back when they created Washington, "District" of Columbia because they made it sound like a classy girl. With all the other islands that we clobbered (mostly during WWII), we just labeled them territories and handed their oversight over to some inept bureaucrats at the Dept. of Interior (oh yes...much of their administration is up to the DOI...i'm not kidding: http://www.doi.gov/oia/). But somehow...the fair city of Washington became the regal "District of Columbia." God only knows where they pulled that from, but in reality....it still means we're Congress' bitch.

We have one non-voting member of Congress. We still get taxed. And, Congress pretty much has plenary power over everything we do. But, we persevere. And, we protest:

At the DENVER MINT!!

This is a peach of a story from our friends at DCist. I will be the FIRST to buy one of these quarters:

Rally at U.S. Mint to Go Ahead Without Permit

DC Vote just sent around an email to all their supporters to remind them of their planned event outside the U.S. Mint in downtown Denver. The rally (protest? gathering?) is scheduled for 10:30 a.m. Wednesday morning. From the announcement:

We will host a peaceful rally outside the Denver Mint and pass out wooden coins to the public because the mint rejected the DC government's request to imprint the words "taxation without representation" on DC's quarters and because…

"American democracy isn't worth a wooden nickel without a vote in Congress!"

D.C. Wire reported on Monday that the event's organizers were running into a little trouble getting the appropriate permit from the city of Denver...

Oh, Muffy!

A baby snapping turtle: this natural resident of East Hampton thought our pool would be a nice new home. They're a lot less scary when they're the size of a quarter!

Well, this past weekend, we here at the Weho Expat took a little vacation to that truly Eastern-most East Coast get away: THE HAMPTONS! All I could think was, "Toto, I don't think we're in West Hollywood anymore!" A few observations:

- The train is for the little people. This is the most L.A. mentality I've yet seen on the East Coast. For those of you who don't know, the Hamptons is very spread-out and natural. Most of it is a really beautiful nature preserve chock full of woodland creatures that make you feel like Snow White when she's cleaning. For this reason, the transport mode of choice is definitely a car...and not just any car...but some kind of European sports car. If you have a large family (or in our case, a caravan of hungover gay men), then a Range Rover will suffice.

- Lobster Salad. Get ready to eat a LOT of lobster. Lobster salad is about as ubiquitous in the Hamptons as sunscreen in L.A. Every home you visit, you're offered lobster salad. And this is NO cheap appetizer, so you clean your plate!

- The sales rack at J. Crew. Ok, West Coasters. Have you have wondered who buys all that stuff that goes RIGHT to the sales rack at J.Crew. Well, I have an answer for you: residents of the Upper East Side who vacay in the Hamptons. Every heinous pastel pair of shorts...and even the ones with the little embroidered lighthouses and sail boats...are aplenty on the beaches of the Hamptons.

- Good old fashioned race exclusion. This is where the term "WASP" was invented. Truly. You'll know that when you overhear your first conversation about why EAST Hampton developed after SOUTH Hampton kicked out all the gays and jews. HA! Brown people aren't even on the radar. This place is so white...it was only really ever concerned about excluding other wealthy gays and jews. From my cursory (and tipsy) sociological research, I understand that Southampton still feels very strongly about keeping its community as waspy as possible. Wow.

- Croquet. Yes, folks, they do play croquet in these affluent playgrounds. I don't have much to say on this subject other than that (a) I suck and; (b) mike kicks into major Jackie O. mode (as denoted on his face in our waspy picture together)

Damn you, Tucker Carlson!

We, here at the WeHo Expat, are happy to be back from hiatus in Lawrence, Kansas. Upon returning from the land of corn and Jayhawks, I was once again reminded about how prevalent one particular fashion trend is here in the District: bowties.

Now, I'm a policy wonk at a think tank in Washington, DC. Lately, I've started to wonder if this is some kind of informal uniform for our profession....ummmm......yea.

Just to be clear...there's nothing innately wrong with bowties. They are, however, to be worn judiciously, and by very particular kinds of people. For you lawyers out there, a bowtie suits our good friend, Professor Charles W. Kingsfield, Jr. (from the movie, The Paper Chase) quite well:


This is the bastard that I blame for dorky, 20-something Washingtonians wearing bowties:


Some of you out there might actually be fans of Tucker Carlson (I'm sorry), but he is not to be trusted. While riding the metro last night, I saw one of these wonks-in-training on the redline and he couldn't have been a day over 14 years old. And yet...there he was...big red bowtie...mop of hair...and a seersucker suit (and oh god...don't even get me started on the overuse of seersucker in this town...it has to be some Southern thing). You see, this poor 14 year-old boy is probably just finishing his unpaid internship on the Hill, only to return to his hometown to discover that, indeed, no one else in their right mind would dress that way outside the Beltway.

Today, I am issuing a proclamation regarding bowties:

Commandment the First. Bowties are only for old men (go to hell, Tucker Carlson)

Commandment the Second. In order to "pull off" a bowtie, you need to have a "study" equipped with leather club chair, an old piano, 15-year scotch, some vinyl Bluebird records and an assortment of books with titles that only frequent readers of the New Yorker would recognize.

Commandment the Third. You need to work in a dorky profession like mine (think tank or other policy-related field) in the District. Eccentric professors, of course, always have a pass on this one.

New Neighbors...and the Alpha Cat

As many of you know, we used to live in a bungalow courtyard that was literally our own version of Melrose Place. Most of the neighbors knew each other, drank with each other, and generally looked after one another's bungalows. Those years that I spent in the Bungalow were 4 of the best years of my life. It represented a lifestyle once heralded by the great Southland real estate boosters of yesteryear, which still exists, but only in certain corners of L.A.'s modern urban sprawl.

All our little bungalows were built by set builders as a day job back in the early 1920's. Imagine all the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed aspiring actors and actresses stepping off trains from the dreary cities of the East, only to find air scented with orange blossoms and perpetual spa-like sunshine. Yes, this is the reason that Southern California swelled to the 18 million-person metropolis that you see today.

I had a number of ways that I ignored the worst elements of Los Angeles, while highlighting its best and most unique. Other than telling people that smog made for FABULOUS sunsets (which is QUITE true, I'll have you know), I viewed the bungalow courtyard as my sanctuary. Our dear neighbor, Robert, worked hard everyday to maintain landscaping and a garden that gave the famous Garden of Allah a run for its money. Hummingbirds were a plenty, and most of the year, the jasmine creeping up the side of everyone's french windows gave the air an extradorniary aroma.

Ok, enough romantic waxing about L.A. Now, I live among lesbians and: The Alpha Cat.

To refresh you, I found our new wonderful English basement through my friend. He runs a marketing company here in the District. Naturally, I first met him at my Norm stool at O-bar. He appreciated my affections for fine bourbon. Good man. That aside, he was out gardening one morning and met the new owner of the brownstone next to him who happened to be looking for tenants of the his newly-renovated English basement as of July 1. Perfect.

So we moved in and started meeting the neighbors. First off, I don't know if it's the ample space for dogs or the high density of hardware stores nearby, but Kalorama is LESBIAN COUNTRY. Every other car parked on the street is a Subaru station wagon and there are a lot of women walking the block who look like nice granola mountain biking girls, but will probably cut you if you mess with them.

So, our direct upstairs neighbor is a lesbian attorney. The woman above her is a German TV coorespondent named Frau Hanni Hersch (how fab is that?), and the two girls in the English basement next door: yup, you guessed it, lesbians...with dog...and in the process of taking the Bar exam.

Then, there's my neighbor who sits on his porch with a glass of red wine, a copy of the New Yorker, and a paternal sensibility that only makes me hope he hasn't procreated...for the sake of his potential offspring's sanity. Rather than describing him, let me give you a little rundown of one of the first "conversations" I had with him. He is denoted as "A" below (for "ass"), and I'm just "E":

A: So, you gotta cat down there?

E: Yup. I sure do. His name's Nemo. He's a great cat.

A: Ha, ha, ha (seriously...he laughs like an overfed warlord). Well *takes a puff of his rank cigar*, let me tell you....my cat...you better understand...he's the ALPHA CAT. Yup *another puff*, don't let that cat of yours out, or mine'll put him in his place.

E: He, he....he *nervous laughter*. Ummm..ohh...ok.

A: Yup. He's the big man feline around here.

"Big man feline?" Seriously! Now, this is only a small glimpse into his personality. I refuse to subject you to more. But, I think I just witnessed a perverted form of dick-slinging. Who talks about their cat's alpha-ness? The especially funny part is that Nemo had a little outdoor time the other day and...

He met the "alpha" cat.

Well, not to gloat, but Mike and I realized REAL fast just how beefy Nemo really is. Nemo is about 3 times the size of the "alpha cat". They started doing that hilarious alley cat rrrrrroow ritual and Nemo puffed up like a porcupine. He took one step up the stairs...and the alpha cat ran off.

So, I'm not sure what this means for my neighbor's sense of confidence. Part of me wants to drop Nemo in front of this alpha cat again when he's out there drinking his wine and smoking his cigar, but that might just make him worse.

You know this guy must drive a Lotus or something...

The Commute [Part I]

Well, it had to happen at some point. And, I figured that Monday was an apt occasion for a posting on how we all get to work. After much pondering, I've realized there is far too much material upon which to comment for one posting, so we're going to have a multi-part series on commuting. Now that I've spent my first few weeks on my new commute here in the District, I thought I might share some observations about my transition from the land of convertible mobile offices (aka: cars in Los Angeles) to the nervous, live-by-the-factory whistle, industrial-era grind of the East Coast.

First of all, let's get this out of the way: I lived without a car for most of my residence in SoCal. That's right. It can be done. I didn't die. The world didn't end...and I actually ended up enjoying my life more without one. I credit WeHo for most of this....more on that later.

Buses

Wow...seriously people. What are your problems with city buses? I really thought this was an L.A. thing, but the attitude out here is almost as bad. People only seem comfortable commuting via car or rail. If you've lived in/spent considerable time in Manhattan, DC and several other Eastern cities, you may have realized that buses are often a faster option. I realize there's something far more romantic about taking a train or subway, especially in DC and L.A. where buses regularly blow oil out the back and light on fire. No, I'm not kidding. But, buses are practical, necessary and often much more inexpensive forms of transport for any quality city.

Wow, Monday sure as hell put me in a dark mood.

L.A. and DC have a very sad bus situation, mostly due to severe underfunding. I used to ride the #2/302 down Sunset Blvd in L.A., which we would refer to as the "Nanny Line." Seriously, 90% of the daily ridership were domestic laborers for exhausted, overworked housewives in Beverly Hills and Bel Air (In case you're wondering...yes...I'm being very sarcastic here). The Sunset line was so overcrowded that, during peak hours, riders would have to watch at least 3 or 4 buses pass their stop without stopping because they were packed to the gills.

In the District, the disparity in service between the Metro Rail (subway) and the Metro Bus, is especially sad because, as is almost always the case in the District, Congress controls transit funds. What does this mean? Congress is usually much more willing to dump billions into the Metro Rail because it's geared toward the suburbs in places like Virginia (where many of the...ahem...Republicans actually live). But, they put practically nothing into the bus system. Honestly, Metro Buses look like after market purchases by the District from developing countries.

So, the message here is to support your local bus service. It definitely presents its challenges (the aromas, the breakdowns, the village crazies who've identified you as their new BFF, etc). But, until a broader, more diverse ridership is invested in the bus system, it'll never improve.

Yea...you thought this blog was going to be all fluff, didn't you? Ha!