When I arrive at Washington Dulles (how suddenly polite airport security seem to be: what a contrast to past experiences at US airports: and the staff have lost weight ...) I take the scenic route by road to Baltimore for a whistle-stop tour of the city and its Inner Harbor.
I am talked into "riding the ducks" aboard some WW2-built truck that doubles as a boat and our guide/driver is Captain Crackerjack . The tourist custom is to wave at passing native pedestrians and shout hello while blowing a yellow duck decoy whistle at them. People wave back. Captain Crackerjack plays Village People's YMCA for some reason and blows his duck whistle hard to the beat and I notice he has a bushy 'tache. Already I have connected with the spirit of Baltimore.
Capt Crackerjack would appear to be complementary to HonFest - the event dedicated to Hairspray and which I am attending today in my feather boa, Edna Everage-ish specs and heavy gem ring. All part of the city's innocent celebration of cockless camp. You have to wonder about Baltimore. Anyway if there's time this weekend, I'll fill you in on HonFest ...
(Did you know half a bottle of cognac and three red roses are left on Edgar Allen Poe's Baltimore gravestone every year? No, nor did I)