(with apologies to the new wave band Berlin)
I was in Washington D.C., one of my favorite cities on Earth. It was mid-to-late spring, so it was comfortably warm. I'd gone to some meeting, and afterwards was on the way to my hotel. I was on a Metro (possibly the Red Line), but don't quite remember if we were going to Metro center or an outlying area. There were several of us in the group, and we all got along well. There was an camaraderie between all of us, so the laughs flowed freely.
Individuals in my group departed the ride at various stations, until one friend and I were left aboard. Soon, my stop was coming up. However, I left the Metro one stop short of my hotel. I got off, went up the escalator to ground level and walked the couple of blocks to my hotel. There had been light, intermittent rain showers all day, so the air smelled sweet and fresh.
On the outside, my lodging was classy and modern. Once I got to my room, however, things were in disarray. Pizza boxes were everywhere. Furniture was moved about in a haphazard fashion. The television was blaring. Strangely, I didn't get upset about the room's condition.
In an instant, that last friend from the Metro appeared in the room. He too was relaxed despite the surroundings. He grabbed the television's remote control and changed channels. He found a rerun of a past football game, threw some stuff from a chair onto the floor, and took a seat.
While he got comfortable, I went to the refrigerator. The only things in the fridge were three bottles of Heineken beer. I looked for a bottle opener, cracked open two of the three beers, and passed one to my friend. I took a draw of my beer, cleared off room on the couch, and kicked back.
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