[@Old Amsterdam]
[url=http://www.gardens.si.edu/plan-your-visit/gardens-map.pdf]Wandering through the gardens,[/url] Laurie wound her way through the Heirloom Garden, Victory Garden, Urban Bird Habitat, and Butterfly Habitat Garden with no sign of the rogue comedian. Heading down 7th Street toward the Museum & Sculpture Garden would prove a bit more fruitful, as a larger couple walking toward the Capitol could be heard complaining about "that awful jokester". Whether she interrogated them directly, or just strolled after them to overhear their conversation, she'd discover the information that the jokester in question was lurking somewhere around the Kathrine Dulin Folger Rose Garden.

There, she struck... something. One could say it was gold of some sort, but given what she was seeing, one might be more inclined to think it was something much less appealing. There was [i]somebody[/i] who might've been a comedian, a lean man with a microphone in what looked to be a comedic suit, albeit in a nerdy and outdated pattern of blue-brown squares only further accentuated by the thick rectangular frames over his eyes, not to mention a head of brown hair in a combover that didn't really hide that most common of problems, male-pattern baldness.

The image was, however, utterly ruined by the lack of interested parties about him. There were a couple of people nearby, but neither seemed to consider him particularly interesting, even though his weak, uncertain voice projected from his briefcase as he spoke: 'S-so, uh, wha- um, WHAT is the DEAL with airline food? And also with, er, how, how white people- how they um, how uh- shoot, hold on,' he mumbled into the mic as he tried to grab some notes from his pocket, only to drop them on the ground next to him. The response from one of the people was to tell him to find some better references and start walking off.

As the man stammered and tried to follow after the retreating passerby, fate itself seemed to mock him - his foot found the pile of notes, slipped, and split his legs to a perfect 180 degree angle, drawing out a high-pitched squeal right as his body tipped forward, burying his face into a pile of dirt that could not have been more perfectly placed to fill his mouth if it had been put there deliberately.

As the unfortunate would-be comedian struggled to stand, spitting mud from between his teeth and trying to brush his face and suit clean, it was clear to see as one drew closer that he was bright red with embarrassment. He wasn't crying yet, but it seemed like he wasn't far from it either. Frankly, it'd be pathetic if it weren't so hilariously incompetent, and the last onlooker struggled to cover his mouth and hide his snickering. Here came the only hint so far that maybe this sad excuse for a funny guy was the man Laurie was looking for after all - despite prior embarrassment, the look he gave that man was [i]venomous,[/i] conveying the fact that he'd had these sorts of situations happen to him before many times, and that he was utterly sick of it.

[hr]

Meanwhile, Leonard and Mieke’s forays through the [url=https://tile.loc.gov/image-services/iiif/service:gmd:gmd385:g3852:g3852n:ct005201/full/pct:25/0/default.jpg]US[/url][url=https://www.dpadesign.com/art/usna/BASE_ALL_COMBO_REV_A.jpg]NA[/url] were not quite as successful as Laurie’s. Sadly, they found nothing suggesting any comedians about, trying to rob people of their hard-earned money. They did, however, find some other characters within the park.

[@ProPro]
Leonard, making his way down Ellipse Road, found himself at the back of a small, yet rowdy crowd at the National Capitol Columns, just off of the Beechwood Road T-junction. Given the repetitive chanting of “What do we want? LESS GOVERNMENT! When do we want it? NOW!”, and the content of a large number of signboards, one could surmise that perhaps this demonstration was anti-government in nature. Whether or not one agreed with such notions, it was hard to deny as she began her speech that [url=http://saralecu.tumblr.com/post/165654173314/marvels-jessica-jones-fanart-by-l%C3%AA-long]the orator[/url] was quite the agitator:

‘Ladies, gen’lemen, and those of unspecified gender! Do you know how much tax the average American pays in the modern world? Lemme tell you, the average American household pays [i]four’een thousand, two hundred and ten dollars[/i] in tax every year! Nearly fif’een thousand dollars per year, folks - and that isn’ even including sales tax! [i]Supposedly,[/i] that’s only four’een percen’ of the average American’s income, but how can that be when the average American household’s income is as low as fif’y seven thousand dollars? Fif’een thousand dollars into fif’y seven thousand does [i]not[/i] add up to four’een percen’, fellas!’ Whether Leonard wanted to interrupt her or keep on listening, now seemed to be a good point to make his choice, with the crowd muttering loudly about the unfairness of it all as they were.

[@knifeman]
Mieke found herself at a much more immediately interesting landmark along Holly Spring Road. Long before she reached the Holly and Magnolia Collections, a tall tower of some sort was clearly visible, rendered in greater detail up close as what looked to be some sort of high-diving board painted in red and blue flames - with somebody short in what looked to be blue spandex and a thick helmet climbing it.

And at the base, surrounded by a moderately-sized swarm of onlookers with a lot of volume, were two more be-spandexed figures on, was that a podium? No, it actually looked to be a large van, and in fact there was a rather wider gap around the van than Mieke could account for if the whole area was filled with people, likely left for the pool the climber intended to dive into. Indeed, whilst one of the apparent presenters presented as a bulky figure of substantial fat and muscle, complete with incredibly bushy beard and bowl cut in black, the shorter of the two men seemed to be in charge, bearing a thin black moustache that twirled just as much as his black hair, a long red cape complete with yellow bow tie, and a pair of purple sunglasses glinting in the sun as much as his smile might, were he not working the crowd so much. Both, though, sported a burning yellow C in a white-outlined red circle, and one could make the educated guess that the bald climber might too.

‘LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!’ the leader finally yelled, his voice bearing a notably thick accent despite the very precise pronunciation of his words, not to mention wild gesticulation as he spoke and paced all at once. ‘It is nearly time for the main event! You have seen him tumble, you have seen him leap, you have even seen him tumble in the midst of a leap! BUSH LEAGUE! Behold, as the fearless Lee Crue leaps from a hundred-foot diving board, and plummets down into a pool merely SIX FEET DEEP! THE HIGH DIIIIIVE OF MAAADNESS!’ Despite his eyes being covered, it was quite clear how excited the speaker was to witness “Lee” perform this stunt, perhaps more than he ought to be. If Mieke wanted to see the culmination of the stunt up close, she’d likely have to push through the crowd more than she was normally comfortable with.