Screen on the Green

As the sun sinks low on the multicolor horizon, a wind moves across the long, green lawn. The breeze is neither cool nor warm, but simply moves the air enough to relieve those who have congregated on their blankets and lawn chairs. They are an exuberant bunch, and even though it is the end of a Monday work day, there seems to be a carefree air this evening. Perhaps the perfection of the weather after a long heat wave has put everyone in a good mood; maybe it’s the fact that there’s not a suit or tie to be seen. Are they excited because tonight’s movie is a favorite of theirs, or simply glad to be relaxing with friend? There are probably a myriad of reasons that these few hundred seem so happy, but it brings an almost down-home small-town feeling to Washington D.C.
It’s a perfect theater, really. The giant screen is set up against the Capitol building, which is shining bright white against the deepening indigo of the early twilight. Inside the Rotunda, the lights are on, but few staffers are working tonight – if any. The sidewalks of the Mall seem particularly sparse, probably because the tourists have gone home after a long day of sight-seeing and believe D.C. gets dangerous at night. Those who do meander up the way are mostly natives, obvious despite their dressed-down attire. The few visitors are obvious too, and they periodically ask a native to take a picture of them with the Smithsonian Castle in the background. The red brick spires seem to reach toward the setting sun. No one is hanging around the museums lining the green; they have been closed for well over an hour. Only a few sparse surveillance police circle those perimeters.
In the west, the breeze has picked up the flags that encircle the Washington Monument. They are small from a distance, but you can still distinguish them waving proudly in the breeze – sentinels protecting a national treasure. The monument seems to point to the sunset, a masterpiece in progress, shifting from peach and yellow to purple and blue, with the wispy gray-white clouds shining though it all. Day is waning, and at last the dying light rests on the verdant treetops across the city, as if to crown them in celebration of another day.
More people have populated the lawn now, meeting up with friends or establishing their own spot on the grass. From time to time, folks pop up from sitting with a cell phone on one ear and their hands in the air. They dance and move until their target notices their location, and then all is well. It’s quite a sight to see. The twenty-something crowd refreshes itself with water, soda, and snacks. Some seem to be professionals at this process, having borne picnic baskets and coolers; others have haphazardly thrown some things together in a grocery bag or two. But regardless of their experience level, all seem to be enjoying themselves, being outside on this fine summer night.
The sighting of the first star in the sky signals the beginning of the movie. Folks take their seats and start hooting their excitement. Festivities begin with an old Loony Tunes episode, propelling viewers back to their childhood memories of Saturday morning cartoons of yesteryear. After the cartoon, a distinct tune starts to play, and half the crowd rushes to its feet and engages in some sort of ceremonial pre-show dance. It’s quite a sight to see, really. Looking around, you can’t help but wonder if that’s Pelosi’s staff assistant jumping up and down and smiling at one of DeLay’s legislative correspondents, who is making an equal fool of themselves nearby. You never know in a town like this, and in this moment, there is freedom in not knowing.
So night falls on the District of Columbia. Most folks call it Washington; some call it as the capitol of the free world. But for a fortunate few, tonight, it is their town, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.