Sergei Kourdakov - Embassy Row

(Sunday Evening – August 2, 2015)

For as long as I can remember, Sunday evenings always brought on a slight case of the blues for me.  I think it’s because I never wanted the weekend fun to end.  And when Sunday evening hit, it meant the weekend was over…time to get back to school work when I was younger, or time to get ready for work on Monday when I was an adult.

Ding.  Ding.  Two emails on my cell phone.  My friend was sending me some notes for a project we had been discussing.  The first email contained the notes I expected.  The subject line in the second email read:  Sunday Night Blues?  This will perk you up!   Upon opening the second message, I discovered it was an advertisement for a weekend getaway at a hotel on Embassy Row in Washington DC.  I figured my friend sent me the ad because one of the chapters in my book, A Rose for Sergei, is titled “Embassy Row.”  It wasn’t from her!  This random ad struck me as rather strange.  It was as if someone knew I had the Sunday blues and sent me a message, picking up on my thoughts.

With that in mind, below is a short excerpt from my book.  Please note my coworkers called me “Sam!” 

* * *

A Rose for Sergei

Chapter 13

Embassy Row

Fall 1972

When Sergei returned, I offered to pick him up from the Christian Fellowship House in Washington DC.  The expensive cab fare back and forth to my apartment in Arlington was adding up quickly, and I wanted to try and help out a little.  The problem was I never drove in DC unless it was a dire emergency, which translated to I didn’t know my way around at all.  I had only ventured a trip there alone once, maybe twice, before.  I dreaded driving there because I was sure I would get lost.  And when I get lost I panic.  And when I panic all common sense flies out the window.  Yes, I dreaded driving there…but the reward would be well worth it.  Seeing Sergei was a dire emergency in my mind because I missed him tremendously.

My friends and coworkers knew I never drove in DC, and we often joked about it.  They always offered to drive, and I was grateful to them.  Mr. Logie [my boss] knew I would be picking Sergei up after work on Friday and he went over the directions with me several times, assuring me that I would not get lost.

“Sam, it’s easy to get there from Rosslyn,” Mr. Logie explained.  “You just take the Roosevelt Bridge into DC.  I know you know where that is!  You will swing around the Kennedy Center and it’s not much further past that.  Sergei is staying in a nice part of town right by Embassy Row.  You won’t get lost.”

I was a clock watcher all day on Friday, and 5:00 couldn’t come fast enough.  I was really anxious to see Sergei, and my stomach was jumbled in knots.  With Mr. Logie’s words of encouragement and my resolution to face my fears, I jumped into my Mustang and headed into DC.  I was glad there was still a little bit of daylight left as I veered onto the Roosevelt Bridge, over the Potomac River and into the District.  Friday traffic was horrible, almost complete gridlock.  I was oddly thankful for that though since I didn’t know where I was going and it gave me time to read my notes from Mr. Logie and time to find my bearings.  I passed the Kennedy Center and then the Watergate buildings.  Not too much further, I thought.  I reminded myself what an amazing, wonderful historic city it really was in an effort to steady my “I am sure I am getting lost” nerves.

Without a single wrong turn or mix up I finally arrived on the right street and was relieved when I was able to find a fairly close parking spot near the Christian Fellowship House.  Before I got out of the car I took a minute to check my surroundings.  As I sat there, looking up and down the street, I suddenly realized that the sun had set and that it was now totally dark.  I had been so concerned about finding my way through the crazy traffic that I totally forgot that it would be nightfall when I arrived.  What I thought just a short while ago was an “amazing city” had somehow morphed into a very scary “dark part of the city.”  For some reason, I have always been afraid of the dark…a carryover from my childhood.  I glanced at the secluded sidewalks and streets from my car and didn’t see anyone anywhere.  There were hardly any cars driving by either.  This is so ridiculous.  With a burst of newfound confidence, I hopped out of the car.

Early winter was definitely in the air, and you could feel the cold blustery winds rolling in from the north.  A sudden strong gust of wind whipped my long hair across my face temporarily blinding me.  I pulled up my hood to keep my hair out of my eyes as I hugged my wool midi-coat close to me to fend off the evening chill.  I quickly looked around again then ran down the street in my high heels, leaping up the steps to the Fellowship House.  I didn’t care how safe Mr. Logie told me this part of the city was.  Walking, or in my case running, down a dark secluded street alone at night in a big city was literally my worst nightmare.