“What are you doing?! Jaywalking? In Bethesda?! You’ll get us all arrested!!”

Still my friend sauntered boldly across the center of the street, flashing her grey eyes in disdain.

Basic transgressions feel so very naughty in Bethesda. Yes, it’s crazy, but true. Jaywalking has a subversive thrill. Not to mention brazenly placing a cigarette pack on a restaurant table. Ooo, watch out, we’re in Montgomery County!

Perhaps we were overly sensitive, having just watched a student performance in a temple of childhood creativity, but it seemed as we went in search of dinner on Bethesda’s famous restaurant row that everyone, everyone wandering about on Sunday afternoon was either pregnant, carrying a baby, or herding children. Or all three.

Except for us.

You could certainly eat your way across continents on Woodmont Avenue, every restaurant sporting sidewalk dining. And what a gloriously beautiful afternoon, mild breezes at last. Kir Royale at Mon Ami Gabi, mint chocolate chip ice cream at Gifford’s, topping off a relaxing day.

And yet, and yet…

Slightly freaked out. Slightly unnerved. Slightly disjointed in the land of the strollers and the clean streets and the smoke-free. Too squeaky-clean-cut. Too fabricated. Too… nice.