For the past few days of excruciatingly uncomfortable weather, the tourists are no where to be seen here in DC. In fact, the entire Washington tourism industry has had the patronage of only one Australian named Len. After five minutes outside I began to smell a hamburger cooking and realized it was myself. The asphalt of 16th St NW was so hot I could smell the La Brea Tar Pits 2,500 miles away. Thirty minutes later I ducked into air-conditioning before being blinded by my own sweat.