10 Trombones, 2 Drums, 1 Baritone, 1 Sousaphone, and a Cymbals

I came out of the Metro station at Dupont Circle South after dinner with Molly at a great restaurant called Zola. About 1/4 of the way up the escalator, the sound of a dixieland brass band started to penetrate the tube to the tube. By 1/2, people on the escalator were starting to sway and crane their necks to look to the top. At 3/4, the music was loud and clear. At the top, a crowd of around a hundred was arrayed around 10 Trombones, 2 Drums, 1 Baritone, 1 Sousaphone, and a Cymbals--an all black, all-but-one-male, band on the street. A drum case lay in front of them to take in the take. It's not often you hear a band like this on the street outside New Orleans. Maybe they fled New Orleans, Katrina Refugees. It's not often you hear a band where the Sousaphone is in the lead--at least for the first 15 minutes until a couple trombones challenge for the spot. It's not often you see the lead trombone go to the crowd and pull people in to dance, following the lead of a small tow-headed 2 year-old who couldn't keep his feet still. It's not often you hear the crowd roar at the end of the song. It's not often you see the 5s, 10s, and 20s pour into the drum case for a band on the street in Washington, DC. It's the most uplifting thing I've seen in a city that's supposed to lift the hearts of all Americans. Not the marble, not the artifacts, not We The People, but we the people, 10 Trombones, 2 Drums, 1 Baritone, 1 Sousaphone, and a Cymbals.