“There’s this guy on the corner who we call ‘Hey Guy.’ All he does is just yell ‘hey’ to people on the street,” Siobhan Fioramonti said. “He’s been gone for a while now; I hope he didn’t get into any trouble.”

Siobhan drove us down a long road called “Avenue” that was a hub for local businesses. You could see the dope dealers on the side of the street. All around us were people, either drinking to keep warm or eating food. We stopped at a cross walk. I looked around and gathered information.

Up the street was a 7-Eleven convenience store, and further down the street were hipster restaurants and clothing stores that smelled like patchouli. The street was kinda nasty, mostly from the rain prior to the flight touching down. It was about 10:00 or 10:30 by the time we got to the old 1870s house.

We crawled up a hill to actually reach our destination. All the houses were lined up in rows, paint chipping off and brick becoming a drab brown instead of a clay red. We swung around back inside an alley where we parked.

“Be careful about coming out here,” Siobhan warned. “There’s a methadone clinic down the way — and a crack house, too.”

Her husband, Joe, cut in: “Usually we hear people screaming obscenities and racial slurs. I hope it doesn’t wake you up.”

My dad looked at me with a grin. I looked at him with a full-blown smile. I would have slept better if he didn’t tell me that because I kept an ear out all night. 

Baltimore was a city unlike any I had ever been to. That’s a lie; it’s like every city I’ve ever been to. In fact, it reminded me very much of Louisville. Same racial inequalities and same kind of layout, but it felt very different, too. I don’t know how to describe it; maybe it was the same amount of hipsters or maybe the tourists passing through. I’m not sure, but it seemed almost like home.

I went with my father, Robert. Rob and I had planned the trip beforehand. We were in Baltimore for four days, but we had enough money to take one day in D.C. and so we did. Rob and I landed in Baltimore Wednesday night. The next day we were to go to D.C.

The house that my newly wedded cousin lived in was very odd. I guess it was the ceilings and the walls that made it odd. See, the way the houses on that street were lined up all together meant there was one wall separating one house from another. Siobhan, Joe and I could sometimes hear a baby crying next door. Robert could not, as he is going deaf.

The beds were quite comfortable, too, very nice, although I’m still bitter at Rob for getting a room with a base. I got an air mattress inside a nice, quiet studio with one window looking at the alley.

I would have trouble sleeping sometimes and go to the window to listen for crackheads or something interesting to happen. Nothing would really happen, so I would go back to bed.

On the first morning we left for the train station. We took an Amtrak to D.C., which was fun. I got to see more of the countryside of Maryland, and it was beautiful. When we arrived in D.C., the Amtrak station was like a mall — a food court in the bottom and stores all over the place.

H&M, FYE, etc., and the ceilings had gold plating. Our shopping senses tingled quite a bit, but the city called to us more. The city itself needs renovations. Lots of pavement sticking up from roots, and fountains releasing green water. Ducks loved it, but aesthetically speaking, it was atrocious. 

Many students were visiting, some from NYC, some from Philly, and some from out of the country. All, I imagine, were visiting the hundreds of museums in the mall or visiting bureaus. One thing I heard a lot were sirens, sirens of ambulances and cop cars. It shouldn’t have surprised me.

I thought it was ironic there’d be that much crime happening in the capital. The day went on with many cloudbursts. We made it to three museums: the Natural History Museum, the Archives, and the Native American Museum. All were very interesting in their own right.

We headed back to the D.C. train station in an Uber. The driver was a virologist and is moving to Puerto Rico soon. When we were approaching the station, a man pulled up and said, “I saw your back light.” The driver said, “Yeah?” and the man in the car tossed him something and said, “Peace, brother.” The driver made devil horns and rolled up his window.

The driver had received a Mason’s pin and showed it to me. He was a Mason, and I was nerding out. It was so unexpected and weird, and it made me so excited. I asked how to join. “You have to know someone on the inside,” he said, “and you must prove yourself worthy. Only then will you see the truth.”

With that he dropped us off and wished us a safe journey. That experience made my whole trip. Absolutely nothing could top it. On the second day Rob and I explored the little street we were on, going to restaurants and buying clothes. Many were record shops, or had imported goods from Nepal or some other country. I just bought a shirt from a skate shop and a record store, as well as a sick Native American hat.

On the third day we explored downtown Baltimore — a market and an aquarium. The aquarium was filled with all sorts of sharks and dolphins. Stingrays glided in the sand, and jellyfish moved around in packs.

It was a great childlike wonder that washed over me. I felt true happiness and joy as I saw all these sea creatures. Before this trip I had never seen a dolphin, and now I finally had.

The fourth and last day was spent sitting and waiting for the rain to wash over. It was a sad day, but a good one, too. I got to have one last meal with my cousin before I went back home, and for that meal I had an octopus burger, and I played pinball with Siobhan and Joe.

As Dickens put it, “It was the best of times and the worst of times.”