February, 2020

You don’t have to look far to find a sign of the apocalypse these days. There’s the daily news chronicling the spread of coronavirus—to new countries, continents, and people. The United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change gave us all 11 years to avoid irreversible damage to the planet and ourselves last year. Meanwhile, balmy February days summon people to the District’s parks and bros to their outdoor beer pong tables.

You also have the ever-looming threat of war with any number of countries, even ones we consider allies, and there’s plenty of opportunity for doom-and-gloom thinking as the Democratic party debates the merits and electability of its many candidates for president of the United States.

One evening, an older sign of the apocalypse rears its head, like a callback to a simpler time: A dinosaur is walking down 7th Street NW.

“Walking” may be generous to the prehistoric beast, which struggles to move down the sidewalk. As it ambles past onlookers, they stop and stare. It’s probably a T. rex, but much shorter than the one you’ll find in the Museum of Natural History. Not nearly as apocalyptic. It doesn’t tower over buildings like Godzilla. It’s about the size of a person in a dinosaur costume. If only all our existential threats were like this.

Will Warren writes Scene and Heard. If you know of a location worthy of being seen or heard, email him at wwarren@washingtoncitypaper.com.