So I guess it’s about time I share my thoughts,pics , and ,this time, videos of the grand trip to Oman. Just like the trip to Vietnam last year, I was an instructor teaching some foriegn border security force, how we do what we do at the Oakland Seaport. It was a business trip and I’m not going to get into the business part. But it was also the first time I had been to DC and points beyond with any time to spend. So, that will have to do as the focus of this here bloggy blog.
The first part of the day was uneventful as I took a cab to the West Oakland BART station, rocked the train to SFO, and got on my flight bound for the nation’s capital. I was pretty excited because it was Monday, a week and a day before Obama’s Inauguration. But more so because every time I had been here previously I was an unaccompanied minor. I was just passing through Dulles on my way to summer vacation in Ohio from South Carolina.
I got there in the late afternoon, just at dusk. It was cold and kinda drizzly and sort of a sad catalyst for some potential traveler’s malaise. But even the shitty weather couldn’t get people down. Everyone seemed happy and full of hope. I remember thinking to myself “wasn’t this the Murder Capital of the world a few years ago?” Now I feel like every one I pass is about to hug me.
The Willard Intercontinental
By the time I checked in and dropped my shit in the room, it was Dark out. I asked the Concierge where to eat, that was within walking distance and he gave me the Jersey P-shush (with an afro-feminine head slide and the “hand”) and said “Pssshhhhh, Puhlease. The Old Ebbit Grill, no brainer!!” So I walked around the corner to find some food. I was a little worried, since it was just a random Monday night, That there would be a challenge to find the company of some decent strangers. But when I got there, the place was nuts to butts. It was packed to gills, they were hanging ‘em from the rafters. I had to take off my Chrome bag to negotiate my way to the bar without spilling people’s drinks. As I was approaching the Hostess stand, she started to roll her eyes and I could see the gears turning in her head as she tried to calculate how long she would tell me the wait would be for a table. When I asked if they served food at the bar she told me yes, much to her relief.
It's a truly Old establishment
Inside the Lodge Decor was classy
Service was a blur
I opened a tab and got a beer. I told the Bartender that I was waiting for a spot to open up at the bar. As I stood there waiting conversations flowed easily among the people around me. In no time at all I was being asked about the Oakland Seaport, and being congratulated on my first home purchase and entertaining couples with the tale of reconnecting with Mi Vida. I was having a great time and then the Bartender got my attention to let me know I had a place at the bar. a couple had just left so I had a seat and an empty one next to me.
That’s when Heather asked if anyone was sitting there. I said “No” and before long her boyfriend Scott joined us. The three of us bantered back and forth over a few beers and oyster shooters. We talked about food and politics and music. We covered romance and relationships and things to do in DC, San Francisco and Oakland. Of course I got to tell the story about Mi Vida again and I managed to bring the conversation around to motorcycles more than once.
Heather failing to keep a straight face
Soon it was winding down at Old Ebbitt’s so a new venue was sought. Heather was an old pro at this Capital touring thing so She was showing Scott some places of interest. It just so happened that the next interesting place was the Round Robin Bar inside, The Willard Intercontinental. So in a round about way we all went back to my place and fanned the fires of our respective buzzes.
Once at the Round Robin the kickassest bartender named Tim took excellent care of us. I’m developing a bit of a taste for Gin so after the usual Gin and Tonic I asked if there was another cocktail that used my new favorite potable. The he told me about a Blood and Sand and made me one with gin. I didn’t find out till later that they traditionally call for whiskey, but whatever it was tasty and Tim’s stories of Rudolph Valentino were entertaining.
The Tim, striking a pose
His bitchin Cuff Links and my Gin Blood and Sand
After another round or two it was time to say goodnight to Heather and Scott. I went back to my room to sleep it off. In the morning I woke up and threw open the curtains to start the day.
Nice robe Hef!
So I packed my bags and gave them to the bell desk to hang on to. After I checked out I had a few hours to kill before I needed to be back at the Airport. I grabbed my camera and hit the streets. First thing on the agenda though, is some food. I was effing ravenous.
This looks as good as any
For some reason I was strangely drawn to this place. It also came highly recommended from the front desk staff at the Willard. I wanted a casual place to grab a beer and a burger.
MMmmm Buffalo
Are your nuts brown?
So I ordered an organic ale and a Buffalo CheeseBurger. It was the first time in a long time I have had the bison meat. I must say they do it well at Chef Geoff’s. It was lean and somehow very juicy. The real plus was the sweet potato fries. They were served with a sweet and horse-raddishy mustard that went well with the Ale.
After some mild small talk with others in the place I paid my tab and went out in search of interesting things to take pictures of. I had gotten a few points of interest from the Concierge before lunch but it looked like it wasn’t my day. The place was deeply gripped with the upcoming inaugural happenings and it was no longer the city of monuments and a repository of wisdom, it was all chain link fencing, bleachers and port-o-johns. It looked less like the capital and more like a county fair. It took real effort not to get a port-o-potty in every shot I took.
Water every where and not a place to pee. They were all secured with zipties
Seriously they were every where. I think I managed to catch a few cool things. Although I purposely did not take pictures of all the famous things. The Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial and what not. Mainly because it was such a shitty day. Everything was cold a grey. I want a reason to come back. Plus I NEED to see the smithsonian. So I found some cool little obscure buildings that looked old.
An old guard shack
The Old Lock House
I’d had enough of the cold and drizzle, it was time to go back, get my luggage, and head to the Airport. I would meet my co-travelers for this mission and we would head off to the desert. On the way back I came across these four people taking pictures of a trash can. As I got close I noticed that they were taking pictures of a squirrel . They got closer and closer, but that fat little rodent just hung out eating his acorn like it was nobodies business. I thought about getting my camera to take a picture or two but, I thought he would be scared off by the sound of the velcro when I opened my bag. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Two of the people got bored and left so I turned around with my camera out.
With that I chuckled back to the Willard. I went to the little cafe next door and got a bite and a cup of coffee. I went inside, retrieved my luggage, and asked the bellman to call a cab for me. It just so happens that a limo driver known as “the Phantom” was headed back to the Airport to pick some one up and would give me a ride for the same price as a cab. So I took him up on the offer. As we were on our way we did the usual banter. Where ya headed? Did ya like DC? What did you think of the sights? …ect
When I told him I didn’t have time to see a lot of the sights he took me to the airport the long way. Passing by different buildings and monuments and he was full of insightful dialog. He grew up in the 60’s and talked a lot about the historic moment about to happen. Our conversation covered a lot of topics. But racism was common theme throughout. Even though we experienced it from different perspectives we both knew about integration that wasn’t really integrated. We genuinely shared a common sentiment about what is so often legislated and what is really experienced by people living their lives. I would say though that first and foremost “the Phantom” was a patriot, and a veteran second. On my long tour to Dulles he stopped at the Marine Corps War Memorial. This place held special value to him that he didn’t go into, but he couldn’t let me come here and not take ,at least, a picture away with me.
This was pretty cool
I thought that was the most fitting end to the day. It would be a long night. I was staring down a 13 hour flight across the Atlantic like it was the barrel of a gun.
Did I mention that I was flying economy class all the way?
