i've been saving this gem for a rainy day.

okay, so it's not raining ... but anyway.

last week, monk was telling me a story about his accidental encounter with patriotism.

before i continue, i feel like it might be worth explaining who monk is. monk, short for monkey (my pet name for him for a while -- which he hated -- was monkeydoolittle), is a miami boy. like i've said before, no one really picks his/her nickname, except maybe deion. monk looks a little ... well ... like a monkey. but we mean that in the nicest way possible.

on occasion, we'll call him zak. but not because it's short for zachary (his real name), but rather because z.a.k. are his initials (convenient, huh? jen naylor, a girl who should have been my pledge daughter in college goes by jen, which are also conveniently her initials).

i'm not sure why he let us call him monkey, but as we grew out of our adolescence, monkey got shortened to a hipper "monk," and the name has stuck. monk now works two blocks from my office, and yet we only see each other when we're in different cities ... and twice here ... but only by accident.

anyhow.

monk and big mike, another miami boy who now lives in dc (i'm sensing a poker game coming to fruition), set off to play football on a field downtown a couple sundays ago. they decided to drive and park, quite a feat to accomplish in dc but fairly doable on a sunday morning. as they were heading south, they noticed that entire sections of downtown dc were blocked off. apparently, they failed to remember that it was the 11th day of september. who reads the newspaper anyway?

so they rerouted and found a place to park that was as close as they could get to the football game. when they got out of the car, they noticed a lot of people being funneled in a single direction. they just joined in the mass since everyone was heading in the same direction as the football field. after a block or so, monk and mike found themselves, each dressed in a wifebeater with mesh shorts and cleats, in a sea of white shirts and american flags. they politely asked the officer next to the barricades what sports event was drawing so much attention.

sports event? this is the freedom walk.

somehow monk and big mike had involuntarily been "drafted." to the september 11th freedom walk in downtown washington dc.

they tried to slip out of the barricaded streets a couple times, only to be manhandled by the police. "we just want to play football," they argued.

"suuuure you do."

at one point, as monk tells the story, they were surrounded on both sides by protestors. on the left side, naturally, were the anti-war liberals.

"bush is a liar"

"don't a-ttack i-raq"

"you people are sheep-le"

monk took the most offense to that last one. "i am not a sheeple," he mumbled. "i just want to play football." unfortunately, no one really understands monk when he talks.

on the right side of the parade route were the religious fanatics encouraging their little kids to hold up signs that read "g-d hates you."

ahhh. nothing brings together the polar sides of the political spectrum like a good freedom walk.

when monk and mike gave up trying to escape the confines of the freedom walk (quite the irony if you think about it), the parade emptied into a concert on the national mall. except that this concert wasn't just a 9-11 commemorative music instillation. it became a "support our troops" rally, tagged with the clever name of "iraq and roll." iraq and roll? really? are you serious?

monk and mike were finally able to escape freedom and found their football game. they missed the entire first half.

sorry man. see what i said about the dangers of football? (see previous post entitled hail to the victor's girlfriend).

the good news, monk, is that i don't think g-d really hates you, even if the little kids think so.

but you never know. maybe freedom is out and fascism is in.