I live in Northern Virginia, and I hate it here. Northern Virginia is a place that’s only known for having a high cost of living and really bad traffic. If a Northern Virginia establishment isn’t both crowded and expensive, they are on their way out of business. Everything here is crowded and expensive. God, it sucks.
My mission until I can get the hell out: Lower my standards. Learn to find some semblance of joy when I only have to wait 20 minutes for soggy tater tots and only have to ask twice for my flat Coors Light. Figure out how to tolerate living in Northern Virginia.
Here’s the thing – embracing mediocrity is going to require taking advantage of every opportunity for even the slightest enjoyment, and my absolute favorite thing about living here is complaining about living here.
I see where people are coming from. At the same crowded bar, eating the same soggy tater tots, there are dozens and dozens of people acting like they’re second graders that just got pulled out of school to go to Disney World. It’s got to be delicate business consistently maintaining such extreme enthusiasm for run-of-the-mill activities, and my complaining has got to make that job harder. Look, obviously it’s true that I know when I pay $4.50 for a PBR it probably isn’t going to be a tallboy, and no shit, my $12 plate of tacos isn’t going to come with any sides. But, dammit, your southwest egg rolls look like they were super over-fried and probably cooked from frozen. Are you really telling me it wouldn’t feel a little bit good to admit it?
Look, I’m prepared to admit that readily accepting the mundane is a crucial survival trait here. I will even go so far to admit it’s sometimes even admirable to let that acceptance simmer until it becomes lukewarm enthusiasm. However, I simply will not cover up the truth, which is that most of the time, Northern Virginia sucks.