The four faces of Crystal City.

When you visit Crystal City for the first time, you might feel like it is an interesting or diverse place. Quickly enough though, you would realize you were wrong - you just had not yet learned to accurately identify and distinguish between the four faces of Crystal City.

Only four faces, you say?

Yes. Only four faces.

I rolled into the next-door hotel's Starbucks around 8:32 this morning, and until 8:56ish analyzed and categorized people to my little heart's content, from the comfort of my corner spot by the window. More and more undercaffeinated twenty to fifty-somethings stood glassy-eyed in line, and more and more I enjoyed the game I was playing with myself. I started to complicate my game a little by categorizing each individual before they walked in the door and then getting fancy by actually predicting their drink.

Now, at this point, you're either about to call a rehab center for Starbucks addicts and have me checked in tomorrow morning, or you're going to think I've actually been doing something with that little bit of Sociology I took in college.

It's a little of both.

I digress. The four faces.

The four precise categories of people in Crystal City are as follows:

Category 1 - Tourist
Category 2 - Government Employee
Category 3 - Republican Campaign Staffer
Category 4 - IJM Staffer

It is important to realize that a) each of these are highly distinct groups, and b) with a little guidance, you will be able to recognize and tell each group apart at a moment's notice. We'll first go through the exterior indicators before moving on the more tricky (and at first, confusing) nuances.

Category 1 - Tourist

This group should actually be broken into two categories: Eighth-graders and Other.

Approximately 7 billion eighth-graders grace the streets of Crystal City every year. This is because a) it is in the book of eighth-grade law that every human should visit Washington, DC before beginning high school, and b) Crystal City is cheap. If you're not quick enough to distinguish this group by age alone at 8 am, check their hat, their shoes, and their cash. The hat will be flat-billed with DC embroidered on it, and you can be 99% certain it was purchased from a street vendor yesterday. The shoes are either Etnies or Reefs, depending on the type of eighth-grader, and the cash is all in crisp 50s and 20s (from Dad).

The 'Other' category will make up everyone else who is a tourist. They can be spotted mostly in family groups, with a breakdown a little something like this:

Annoyingly-DC loving Dad
White tennis shoe-wearing Mom
Deeply aggrivated 14-year-old girl (texting)
Ecstatic 11-year-old boy (hanging with Dad)

Dad, Mom and 11-year-old will be wearing last year's Old Navy flag tshirts and khaki. The teen will be in American Eagle from head to toe, with an emphasis on the black liquid eyeliner.

Tourists have been known to order many drinks at Starbucks, but the key thing to keep in mind is that going to Starbucks is still 'cool' to them, as opposed to it's absolutely irreplaceable role in the rest of our lives. Generally, they go with whatever is chalked up as the 'drink of the day,' or 'barista's pick.'

Category 2 - Government Employee

Some might argue that government employees are the most noticeable of all, because they often wear matching camo suits, with matching tan lace up boots, and matching haircuts from the 80s. I would argue that Category 3 is actually the most noticeable group, but we'll get there in a moment. Something to remember is that some government employees do not wear the camo and boots, but nearly all have haircuts from the 80s. If somehow, they are missing these two features, check around their neck: they ALL wear lanyards with ID cards. This is also helpful if you are trying to distinguish between a Category 2 and a Category 1, 3 or 4. No one else wears lanyards.

If it should come to a point of listening to drink orders to positively ID a lifer in the government, listen for two things: a ridiculous drink choice and extreme anger when it is made incorrectly.

For example, this morning a female government employee (in her case with camo, boots, 80s haircut AND lanyard) was texting on her Blackberry when the barista called her order. She barely looked at him before shoving it back across the counter and saying, "This is WRONG. I ordered a CHOCOLATE banana Vivanno."

Poor guy. He looked at her with pity. "I mean, lady, if all you can order is a tall chocolate banana Vivanno and you think you're cool in that camo and boots: fine, I'll remake it for you."

Category 3 - Republican Campaign Staffer

As I mentioned previously, this group is, in my opinion, the most noticeable and the most fascinating. Again, we have two subcategories: Male Republican Campaign Staffer (MRCS) and Female Republican Campaign Staffer (FRCS).

The MRCS's are a cinch, they all look exactly the same and always order the same drink. Think pleated khaki, Polo Oxford (color options limited to white, blue, pink, yellow and lavender), bow tie or striped regular tie, and tan driving shoes.

They order Venti drip coffee, and pronounce Venti ven-teeeee. The farthest north they come from is Alexandria, and the farthest west Knoxville.

The FRCS's can be a bit more difficult, simply because a) they have more clothes, and b) they either straighten or curl their hair depending on the humidity level. You can generally be certain, however, that they will be in J. Crew from head to toe, have highlights, and a Southern drawl. They are also perpetually underdressed, except on Fridays, when they're told to wear skinny jeans and Tori Burch flats. Judging by the quantities of these you will see each Friday, there is simply no other explanation.

FRCS's are generally patronizing at the ordering counter, slowly drawling out their order so that the baristas (most of whom are of Ethiopian origin) can 'understand' them. They could save themselves the step, though, because, similarly to the MRCS's, they all order the same thing: a Grande skim, 1 pump sugar-free vanilla latte, over ice. On the days that FRCS's need an extra boost (read, hangover), they order a Venti, but unlike MRCS's, they pronounce it vennn-taaaay, because they learned that when they studied in Florence the summer after their junior year.

If you miss the MRCS/FRCS crowd at Starbucks, you can quickly find them at their second favorite hangout, the front circle, for an afternoon smoke break.

Category 4 – IJM Staffer

Category 4 folks are really the glue that holds the little microcosm of Crystal City together. They are justice seekers by trade, idealists at core and hipsters on the weekends. They are at Starbucks in the morning either because they arrived at HQ at 7:58 and are ready for a break by the time Stillness rolls around, or they time their commute just right to put them in line at 8:32. They're in a suit, and they look good in it. They carry a Moleskin, a pen, the New Yorker, and a book by either Dallas Willard, or, for the old faithfuls – Oswald.

They're nice in line, they know their favorite barista's name, and they always put their change in the tip cup. This proves highly effective, as baristas have been known to give free upgrades and drinks to many kind-hearted and gentle-tongued IJMers. Because most Category 4s are at Starbucks in protest to the bucket of drip in the break room, they generally order uncomplicated, yet insightful drinks. The go-to would be the latte, but often times the more health-conscious Category 4s opt for soy to both cream and sweeten their drink guilt-free.

On nice days, all Category 4s are outdoors, dreaming of the weekend, when they will either be brunching at Eastern Market, camping with colleagues, or kayaking. In winter, and when the humidity level peaks above 87%, they are more likely to remain indoors, in the corner stuffed chair with their tall steaming cup of joy. Either way, at 8:57 every morning, they rise from their seats and walk together towards the elevator lobby. Often, they meet each other on this path, and join forces until it's a small army that waits for one of the two working elevator to the next-to-the-top floor.

Category 4s are a smaller contingency than any of the other three faces of Crystal City, but by the looks they get in line, it is clear that their presence is known and their status coveted.

These, friends, are the four faces of Crystal City.

Now that you understand the basics, it should be noted that, due to the laws of human error, you will sometimes mistake one category for another. A very-young FRCS might be mistaken as the overdressed teen daughter of a tourist family. A government employee might have forgotten his lanyard and added a bow tie from the 80s to match his hair from the 80s and be taken for a washed up MRCS. Tourist dads are also easy to mistake for over-zealous call-center workers. It happens.

IJMers, are never mistaken for government employees, simply because they are nice to the baristas, and they never order chocolate banana Vivannos.

Of all mistaken identities, the most troubling is when a Category 4 is believed to be a Category 3. Usually the mistake is made by a Category 2, who has been been officing in the building so long that all faces without lanyards just look alike. Apparently, it is difficult to distinguish between classy dark toned pant-suits with well-placed accessories and splashes of color and the fruitbasket of J. Crew's summer skirt line and espadrilles. If you find yourself unsure, simply look at the reading material: no Category 4 will read People, especially not during Stillness. And C4s never, ever take smoke breaks.

Knowing this information and having the ability that you now do will be immensely helpful as you traverse the wilds of Crystal City. Before they even punch the buttons, you will be able to predict how many floors you will be stopping at before reaching your destination. (Note: Although it is generally undesirable to be in an elevator with all C3s, it is fast – you have only two floors at which to unload.) You will know the weather forecast by one check of the FRCSs hairdo's (scrunched curls when rain's on the horizon), and you will know the sidewalk vendors' summer collection like the back of your hand.

Most importantly, you will know that you should never, ever accuse a Category 4 of being an FRCS. All of her justice-seeking passions will likely be turned momentarily toward vindicating her own image from guilt by association, and she will valiantly sport her blazer every time she leaves her desk.

Really? Me? An FRCS?