one of my most vivid memories of wyatt is when he had just moved to the district. we had met in amsterdam and when he moved to my city I was ecstatic. the first time we actually got to hang out, we planned to hit up the thrift stores in Maryland, just outside of the city. Wyatt assured me that he had a car and would drive out there.

when someone tells me they have a car, I generally think that it works satisfactorily or it would be mentioned. my primary measure for whether or not a car is safe rests on whether or not the interior cloth is stapled to the roof of the car. its a weak measure, but seriously, the last part of the car to go is the cloth on the interior.

needless to say, Wyatt's car had multiple staples holding the cloth to roof of the car...i actually think they were thumbtacks, not staples. i got in the car and figured it would be all right as it did get him to the district in the first place. about halfway through the ride i found myself sweating profusely. I turned to Wyatt and asked why it was so hot - to which he responded completely unphased "oh, because the heat is on". IT WAS MID JUNE AND EIGHTY DEGREES OUTSIDE. only Wyatt would see this as a constant that would automatically be understood by any passengers in the car.

regardless, we got to the thrift stores and bought our various things and then headed back. as we hit the outskirts of the city, we realized we were being redirected from our main route. eventually we were completely stopped in traffic in the backstreets of Georgia Ave/Petworth. Wyatt's car, getting hotter and hotter by the second began to steam from the engine. He kept turning it off as we sat hoping that it would not overheat.

it overheated.

we managed to park the car and got out to walk to the nearest train. what we didn't expect was the Caribbean Day Parade that was taking place on Georgia Ave. Wyatt and I stuck out like no other. we were the only white people for ten blocks in either direction. it was amazing, and slightly terrifying for anyone with a hint of internalized racism (not that we were racist, just that most people are socialized with a bit of racism in our culture). Wyatt was totally at ease, while I plodded along fearfully. He was having a field day at the parade - stopping at every vendor, buying food, and picking through caribbean paraphanalia. we finally got to the train station and said our goodbyes for the day. in retrospect i think of this as one of my most interesting and favorite days of living in the district.

wyatt had confidence that i can only dream of and aspire to. i miss him every single day and i think about everything that needs to be done because he won't be able to accomplish it anymore. his ability to overcome and make the absolute best out of any and all situations is a personality trait that is rare. i wish i give him a huge hug right now. i wish i could meet him for drinks or dinner or have a sleepover with him donald and max.

Wyatt had a microcassette recorder that he had used through part of college, amsterdam, and his life in DC. He would set it down when he was with his friends and record the conversations. I found it packed in his things in the storage unit after he died. There were 9 little cassette tapes. Yesterday I popped one in. On this tape he talked into the recorder telling about his really bad day in Amsterdam. It is the day he was hit by the truck. The same 24 hour period he lost his house key while taking a late night jog locking himself out of his apartment. He put his cell phone through the laundry, and the list goes on. He tells his story in about 10 minutes. It is hilarious. Wyatt just went with the flow whatever life threw at him. He lost almost everything he owned, his ipod, his cell phone, his camera, his helmet; before he left for Africa. I think he lost his watch while he was there, at least it didn't come home with him. But he would always just shrug his shoulders and say "oh well, it is just a thing". He lived the most unemcumbered life I've ever seen. He lived for the moment. He lived without fear or worry. I'm so glad to have his voice and story on tape forever. I'm going to try to get it transfered to cd then anyone who wants it can have a copy.

I listened to that tape last night, and it's seriously like you're having a phone conversation with him! It's hard, though, because then it seems less real again. Afterward I just wanted to drive over to his house in Del Ray and hang out for a little bit. ****. I'm sorry, but ****, I miss him so much.

Oven mits will forever remind me of Wyatt because of the celebrity... When it died on him he was of course not wearing any warm clothes...in the middle of winter in january...at night. He had no winter coat, just that navy blue zip up he had with the white stripes down the sleeves. When I picked him up he had on oven mits that he had in his backseat - they were from Thanksgiving when he brought over the famous cheesey hashbrowns to dinner. The mood was pretty somber so I don't remember if I laughed at the time when I saw him, but I love the mental image of Wyatt on the side of the road...in oven mits. There's a blog entry of his that talks about his car dying that night. It's great.