Grab your latte, slip on some yoga pants and Uggs so you’ll blend in with the natives, set your iPhones on “camera” and join us as we search for a distinctive species: the (Not Especially) Reclusive Bethesdan. Here are some of the signs you’ve spotted one:
Hunting Habits: The Bethesdan exhibits the tracking skills of a jungle cat when scoping out potential parking spots. Watch as the Bethesdan narrows her eyes and flicks on her vehicle’s blinkers the instant she spots someone strolling out of Barnes & Noble with a shopping bag. The Bethesdan creeps silently behind the mark for half a block, so focused and intent on her prey that she’s oblivious to the angry horns behind her. If the person escapes by slipping into Sweetgreen and blending into the lunchtime crowd, the Bethesdan will roar off angrily—before coming to an abrupt stop at the sight of a new mark crossing the street, shopping bags in hand.
Navigating the Wild: The Bethesdan is adept at shepherding whining children past Tugooh Toys—often shouting, “Oops, it’s closed!” as a cunning diversionary tactic—before landing at his destination of the bagel store. Observe the Bethesdan reaching instinctively into his pocket for a quarter for the gumball machine, thereby providing entertainment for his offspring while he holds his family’s place in the pecking order of the line. Watch him stick out his elbows under the guise of stretching to prevent the person behind him from edging ahead.
Signs of Decline: The Bethesdan often exhibits a sharp downturn in energy and mental focus during the late afternoon and early evening hours (preliminary studies have shown a correlation between the number of gumball-chewing offspring tugging on the Bethesdan’s pants and the intensity of this decline). Sharp-eyed safarists may spot the Bethesdan in front of a minivan with an MSI (Montgomery Soccer Inc.) sticker on the back, repeatedly clicking the “open door” button on his key fob, his expression growing increasingly bewildered after a half-dozen failed attempts. Zoom in on your iPhone to catch his furrowed brow and whispered expletive. Then capture his smack on the forehead as he walks another dozen feet down the sidewalk, where he successfully opens the doors of an identical minivan.
Territorial Brawls: Watch as the native Bethesdan’s hackles rise at a perceived insult. Perhaps the bloodbath begins with a passive-aggressive post on a community Listserv about recycling containers, or a politically slanted Facebook post. See the Bethesdan’s powerful thumbs flex as she prepares for action, whipping out her telecommunications device and firing off a warning missive. If all else fails, the Bethesdan may utilize the no-holds-barred “unfriend” strategy.
Natural Enemies: The Bethesdan has an uneasy relationship with electronic devices. Although he will happily enter a large glass-fronted store filled with nothing but variations of such items, he also dreads and fears others armed with similar devices. His mortal enemies are, in fact, innocuous-looking people sometimes referred to as “meter maids” or “parking enforcement officers,” as well as the electronic units known as speed cameras.
The Bethesdan is adept at spotting speed cameras in the wild and employing evasive tactics, such as pressing the brakes. But avoidance of the parking enforcement officer is more challenging. Sometimes the Bethesdan will take off in a sprint down the sidewalk, yelling, “I’m here!” as the officer approaches the Bethesdan’s vehicle. This territorial display is rarely successful. The Bethesdan might puff himself up to appear larger or engage in verbal warfare—but in the end, no matter how much he blusters, he is always bested by the electronic device held by his nemesis.
Our safari is now coming to an end. Please exit our sightseeing vehicle onto Bethesda Avenue. Try to avoid stepping into traffic if possible (it won’t be, but we’re legally covered because of the fine print on the waiver you signed). Navigate past the enormous crowd of people on the sidewalk. Try to avoid jostling them as they line up for their cupcakes—Bethesdans take their sugar cravings as seriously as they do their lattes—and proceed to your car. If you sense someone slowly driving up behind you—run!
Sarah Pekkanen’s latest novel is The Best of Us (Washington Square Press, 2013). She can be reached at sarah.pekkanen@moco360.media.
