As
the train slowly made its way past Richmond, Va., headed back to the
Carolinas, the snow gradually began to disappear. I have to admit, I
was sad to see it go. I’ve been a resident of the mid and lower
southeast most of my life, so I don’t feel like I ever get to see
enough of the white stuff.
My partner and I both had taken extended weekends off from our jobs to
spend some time in D.C. together so we could hook up with a few friends
and see some of the sights. The snowstorm that dropped more than eight
inches on D.C. was completely unexpected — but a delightful addition
to the trip.
Snow falling near Dupont Circle.
The last time I was in D.C. postal delivery people were walking around
with surgical masks after the anthrax mail-tainting incident that followed
9/11. It was late September, the city was hot and still smelled bad in
certain areas.
This time it was 30 degrees by the time we reached Union Station — too
cold to smell anything — but no precipitation was falling yet. We
grabbed our carry-on luggage and made a dash for the Metro, which eventually
got us to the Foggy Bottom station and out onto the cold breezy streets
of the Georgetown neighborhood. From there it was just a few blocks to
our hotel.
There are so many things about D.C. to appreciate — but one of my
favorite things is the abundance of historic architecture. We have our
share in the Carolinas — Charleston being the best example, I think — but
nowhere in this country is it in such great abundance as the nation’s
capital. Some of it is restored to pristine condition — in other
areas it is dilapidated and badly in need of repair. Both examples are
fascinating, especially when you think of all of the things that have happened
in those buildings and events that have transpired in the outside world
as they have stood the test of time.
Our experience at the upscale hotel we had booked for the weekend was interesting — although
I wouldn’t exactly call it comfortable. Apparently the hotel from
hell (as I affectionately came to call it) had overbooked and (probably
because of our late arrival) we ended up in a loft style room over what
I suspect was once a carriage house in the rear of the building.
Sounds full of old-world charm, right? Throw in the fact that the heat
only worked at 75 degrees or above and the AC came on (even though it was
30 degrees outside) if it went below 74, along with the fact that I could
touch the ceilings with my hand and couldn’t even walk into the closet
upright. That charm went right out the window.
The next morning we asked for another room and got a suite with a rotating
30-second scalding-freezing shower. Hotel staff seemed mystified as to
what was causing the phenomenon and we were tired of moving (at that point
the only other option was a basement room with no windows) so we agreed
to accept a partial refund and showered cautiously.
Around 11 a.m. — after a breakfast of bagels from a nearby deli — we
made our way back to the Metro for a ride to Smithsonian Station. This
dumps you out on the Mall (the scene of the 1993 March on Washington — I
can still recall it packed from front to back with queers cheering on Liza
Minelli) — which is surrounded by the many different museums of the
Smithsonian Institute. At one end is the Capital Building, at the other
is the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial. We made the rounds
of the Air and Space Museum and the Natural History Museum before meeting
up with our friend Milo for lunch at a nearby Indian restaurant.
A few hours later we found ourselves with Milo outside the steps of the
National Cathedral. I’m not a religious individual, but the enormity
of this church and the astonishing beauty of the architecture is overwhelming.
For the most part — the building seems largely unattended during
off hours, so we were able to go exploring through some of the sub-basement
areas that served as classrooms, rehearsal halls and crypts for important
dead Catholics. Many of the rooms had intricate hand-tiled mosaics depicting
stories from the bible. Behind one door we discovered a darkened stairwell
that led down to somewhere even further beneath the level we were on. With
only the light of a cell phone we decided to leave that exploration for
a later date.
Back on the street outside the snow had finally started to fall in big
fluffy white flakes. It continued to fall throughout the night as we made
our way through Dupont Circle for drinks at an old hole in the wall known
as The Fireplace. Rather than cab it back we decided to walk through the
residential neighborhoods just to get a taste of some real winter weather.
Our last full day there we spent back at the Smithsonian block — taking
in the American Indian Museum, the American History Museum, the Washington
Monument and the Lincoln Memorial.
It was between the latter that I stumbled across the World War II monument
and an inscription on the Atlantic Wall that left me dumbfounded.
We are determined that before the sun sets on this terrible struggle our
flag will be recognized throughout the world as a symbol of freedom on
the one hand, and of overwhelming force on the other.
There were two particular words that got me: overwhelming force.
How could we possibly expect to be the voice of freedom while simultaneously
acting as the world police? It’s that very same mentality that has
kept us mired in Middle Eastern conflict since 1948.
On the train ride back we talked about all the things we saw and the places
we’d gone. D.C. clearly has one of the richest collections of history,
culture and architecture in the world.
On Sept. 11, 2001, attempts were made to destroy some of that. If we hope
to maintain our way of life, our country’s government must reconsider
how we interact with the outside world.
— David Moore
Editor
David Moore Editor
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