August in Washington

August slows Washington DC down to a slow crawl. It's the season when Congress—and everyone else—pack up and get out of town, leaving the city for the tourists and the few souls who either don't have vacation to take or who want to take advantage of Washington at a different pace.

This year, the town is even emptier. It seems like half the city just attended the Republican National Convention in Philadelphia, and the other half is packing their bags for the Democratic National Convention in Los Angeles, which happens next week. Senators and Representatives, staffers, lobbyists, journalists—they're all working hard, but not in D.C.

When I used to work as a lifeguard, August was my favorite time of the year. The swim team that I coached was winding up its season, parents and kids were heading for their annual week at the beach, the pool was emptier, and the nights got dark earlier.

Now, I'm a big fan of long summer evenings, but the advantage of the early darkness in August was that we closed the pool after it got dark. That meant we could turn on the big porthole-shaped lights that run around the edge and transformed the pool into something magical, something totally unlike the pool we guarded during the day. This was when I could dive in and just float underneath the surface, looking up at the blackness above. The lights turned my skin a strange luminous color under the water and when I felt like I was the only person alive for those seconds I stayed under.

The change in the light—the early darkness—also makes August that much more bittersweet. Summer's coming to an end, and with it much of the reckless abandon that I love about the season. Even though I work in an office and probably should dress less casually than I do, I love wearing slides and sandals every day. I love being able to leave my coat at home. I love being able to go swimming and then just wrapping a towel around my waist for the drive home. These things aren't as allowed during the rest of the year, and August is the month I most want to take advantage of them.

So whether you're stopping by or live here all the time, take advantage of the next few weeks. Before you know it, Labor Day will roll around, and as everyone knows, the Tuesday after Labor Day is one of the worst days of the year. Summer's effectively over, but it's still hot and humid. The traffic jacks up to its normal proportions, but it feels worse than ever after an August of so many fewer cars on the road. There are school buses to contend with, Congress comes back to natter on the Hill—although with the election year in full swing, they won't be nattering quite as much—and there's a buckling down feeling as everyone gets back to work.

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