Today: Dan’s Semi-Annual Visit to Washington. I probably do visit there a bit more often but it seems that I only really make it down for a pleasure trip about twice a year. I dislike Washington for the most part, but since I have some great friends who live there I don’t mind making the occasional visit. Also, it’s refreshing to see a different city once in a while.
I always forget how STINKING HOT Washington is, though. When Baltimoreans are told that our city is miserably hot (it is), we usually respond that at least, we are not living in that cesspool that is Washington. Baltimore’s center city does, in fact, seem hotter than Washington, probably because it has narrow little streets that trap heat and few trees to relieve the beating sun. Once you leave the busy confines of the central district, though, there seems to be some relief here. Washington is just plain, nasty, broiling hot. Now I remember why the place is full of fountains; the glimpse of water makes you feel about 1/10 degree cooler, and that’s enough of a relief to make them worthwhile.
No particular news from the Nation’s Capital this time–just lots of observations along the way.
In the Baltimore train station: woman about my age, mid ‘30s, very pretty, wearing longish white linen dress and a pale blue straw hat that would have looked grandmotherish in 1915. Possibly trying to imitate Phoebe Snow? Sorry, honey, the Lackawanna RR and its clean-burning anthracite are long gone. Possibly trying to make a statement? Didn’t seem like the sort. Possibly just really outdated? Well, who the hell am I to point fingers in that direction?
On the train: Nice Family en route to a pleasant day’s trip through the museums. Nicely dressed Daddy and Mother and three kinder, cheerful and well behaved. Evidently planning to soak in some culture and a Real Train Trip. Also, Evil Tourist Redneck Family from Hell. Grubby kids shrieking and running in aisle; visibly hung over Dad, harried Mom who may have last washed hair in 1997. Evidently planning to annihilate peace of mind of all Washingtonians, make terrorists look like well-mannered guests at tea dance. Pleasant Russian couple apparently terrorized by American railroad, who’d learned the name of their destination (New Carrollton) and proceeded to ask everyone on train if this stop was it. One snobby Washington Businessman type: Armani-ish suit (too heavy for the weather), laptop with Power Point presentation apparently going wrong. One snobby Baltimore Businessman type: seersucker suit, white bucks, extremely expensive fountain pen and large disorganized sheaf of paper. Both busily looking annoyed by having to share rail car with great unwashed. Two groups of collegiate girls; one Riot Grrl set (Maryland Institute?) and one Susie Sorority (Sweet Briar?). Evidently on the way to protest World Bank and shop at Galleria, respectively. First group gave me nasty looks, second gave me Sweet Old Uncle looks. Self: attempting to project air of leisurely Baltimorean investigating neighboring city; polo shirt, linen shorts, dirty bucks with no socks. Evidently going to meet similarly stuck-in-1987 friends for afternoon of heavy gin and tonic.
In Washington: Train station full of confused tourists. Friend who works at Smithsonian has pointed out that this is the time of year when all the Gee-Golly-Gosh tourists show up in Washington, and is he ever right. You could drop a sizable bomb on Cedar Rapids and do no damage whatsoever, because the entire population is busily Seeing Washington. I’ve always found train stations to be extremely straightforward places. Even the gargantuan Union Station–which I do believe to be one of the world’s most beautiful depots–has very clear signage and lots of information desks and pleasant people to tell you where to go (bathroom, train platform, hell). This manages to evade the scope of Middle America, and so there are large gaggles of very confused, very hot people wandering aimlessly about the Grand Concourse. Outside train station: gaggle of not confused, but visibly wilting, tragically hip German tourists–all wearing black. Evidently not informed by Duesseldorf tourist agency that Washington is very hot in summertime, all-black outfits not good plan.
En route to museums: Many, MANY vagrants sleeping on benches. Wow. I thought Baltimore was plagued with (hmm, take your pick according to your level of political correctness: homeless, vagrants, winos, bums). Still, their presence didn’t distract from the otherwise beautiful gardens surrounding the Capitol building. These gardens are a 20th century phenomenon; until the lush era of the 1900s and 1910s the blocks verging on the Capitol were full of stodgily proper rowhouses. The City Beautiful movement did those in and now there are acres of pretty garden squares. Oddly, these are all planted in very Victorian fashion–lots of cannas, hosta and elephant-ears. Particularly beautiful when set off by the cascades of the aforementioned fountains.
While seated on a bench smoking a cigarette: Tourist-o-Rama. Nice Tourists, Tacky Tourists, but mostly Confused Tourists. One woman who marched up to me and said "That’s disgusting." Evidently not Virginian, not aware that I was observing correct etiquette by sitting down to smoke. Was unable to resist: informed woman that I was not the one wearing aquamarine stretchy shorts and a bad dye job.
After dinner and a few drinks, I headed back to Baltimore to run headlong against typical Baltimorean mentality: three scheduled uptown cars did not appear and so I got to spend twenty-five minutes waiting for one. By the time it showed up I’d become involved in a fairly interesting conversation with a group of people, two of whom proved to live a block away from me. Washingtonians decidedly do NOT begin conversation while waiting for buses.