My trip to Washington, DC

The day after the Drive-By Truckers show, feeling numb and emotionally drained from the election results, we left Detroit (after a much needed and good breakfast in the Shinola Hotel restaurant) for Metro Airport. From Metro Airport, we flew to Washington, DC.

Being consistently nervous about ever getting to the airport too late, we made it through TSA and then "set up camp" at our gate a good three hours before our plane departed.

Almost everyone on our plane was watching live coverage of Kamala Harris's speech at Howard University. I initially wanted nothing to do with it, but did end up changing my mind and watching about half of it. It didn't make me feel any less depressed. From there, I watched the first half of a documentary called 26.2 to Life, about a group of San Quentin inmates who train to run a marathon, which is comprised of over 100 laps around the perimeter of the prison yard. It was just the sort of life-affirming, positive content I needed at that moment. (I finished watching the documentary on the flight back to Detroit).

We landed at Reagan between about 5 and 6 PM and hopped on the Metro to the city. I was amazed to discover I still had sufficient funds on my Metro card--at this point, I just keep two Metro cards in my wallet at all times.

As I wrote on Facebook, Washington, DC as a sort of home away from home was not on my "life events bingo card" four years ago. 1987 was the first time I'd ever been to DC, and I hadn't returned until thirty years later, when we took our younger son there on spring break (while older son was on his very first trip to Germany). But then, I fell in with the Rockin' the Suburbs podcast crew (based in "the DMV") and L. started having annual work conferences in Washington. So between Suburbs Fests and tagging along on work conferences, this is the fourth time I've been to Washington since September 2021, and the fifth time since April 2017.

Like last year, when we rolled into Washington in the early evening, we were tired by the time we got into our hotel room. Thus begins the "what do you we want for dinner" conversations, followed by the typing of "restaurants near me" on the mobile phone. (How did we survive before this function existed? I suppose one just had to ask the front desk for recommendations for walk around outside until a suitable eatery was located). As it turned out, we decided on the City Tap Tavern, a place we had gone for lunch the previous year. We didn't realize it was the same place until we got there.

On Thursday morning, I was free to do whatever I wanted in the city. Still thoroughly hungover from the election (a hangover that I suspect will last for months or years), I wasn't in the mood to see any museums that a) were too serious or intellectually challenging or b) showed the United States in its "best" (or at least "idealized" light). I had considered the International Spy Museum for a few days, and upon seeing they had a special exhibition of James Bond movie vehicles, I knew this was just the escapism I need. So, I fueled up on some Starbuck's coffee from the hotel lobby and walked down to the Spy Museum. 

I spent close to three hours at the International Spy Museum. It truly was the escapism I needed. It's chockful of real-life spy gadgets and artifacts from all over the world (hence the "International" in the museum name. It also has a few galleries devoted to the East German Stasi, well-known for surveilling citizens of the German Democratic Republic. 

The museum also has an interactive game that visitors can play in which they take on a fictional "spy" identity and attempt to solve puzzles in order to complete a mission. Aside from a complete failure on my part to decode a secret message (I completely lacked the concentration or inspiration to pull it off), I did fairly well and somehow managed to complete my mission successfully. So maybe I missed my calling as a CIA agent. (Tongue firmly in cheek with that statement).

As for the James Bond vehicle special exhibition, it was okay, but not quite as good as I'd have liked. The vehicles were hardly the "star vehicles" of the movies, but the "co-stars." Instead of the Goldfinger Aston-Martin, we got a newer model Aston-Martin that had been in a Pierce Brosnan-era flick. There wasn't even the Lotus Esprit from The Spy Who Loved Me. Oh well, I shouldn't complain too much. (Upon further research, it appears that the Goldfinger Aston-Martin was in the museum's atrium, but I somehow missed it. How did that happen? Ugh.)

By the time I left the museum, it was early afternoon and temps in Washington were unseasonably high. I felt a bit exhausted and just wasn't feeling the need to poke around more museums or monuments. I'd entertained thoughts of walking around Arlington National Cemetery, but didn't have the motivation. I was also scheduled to meet up with some Suburbs friends at 7 PM, so I decided to simply head back to the hotel and decompress for a few hours. I plopped on the bed and read the book I brought (a new biography about the MC5).

I met my friends at Capital City Brewing and was touched that so many of them had taken a few hours out of their lives to meet up with me. Jim, Rob, Sam, Nick, Bud, and Bill: I thank you. It was a fun evening of food, drinks, and conversation. (We were actually able to avoid too much election talk. Thankfully, we are all pretty much on the same page politically, so the conversation was full of gallows humor).

On Friday morning, I had more free time, so on a whim I walked over to the Mary McLeod Bethune Council House on Vermont Avenue, about a 20-minute walk from our hotel. (Well, actually about 30 minutes after all the photos I felt compelled to take with my phone). The house is a late Victorian townhouse on this leafy street. It's where Bethune ran the National Council of Negro Women, an organization that worked for the advancement of Black women. I was only vaguely aware that Mrs. Bethune was an educator and Civil Rights leader. She led a fascinating and eventful life and was a tireless advocate for education and social causes. If anyone reading this is more interested in learning about her or the house, I encourage you to visit the National Park Service website. (The house is relatively small and the tour only takes about a half-hour).

From the Bethune house, I wandered back to our hotel on 9th Street. It was another warm and sunny day in Washington--though not quite as warm as the previous day. I walked past the most gloriously smelling restaurant, The Unconventional Diner, on my walk south on 9th Street. When L. had finished with her conference, I recommended we go there for lunch. I was thrilled that the restaurant was just as wonderful as it smelled from the outside. I had the Lebanese fried rice and it was tremendous. So, once again, if anyone out there stumbles upon this blog and wants a restaurant recommendation for the area near 9th and M Streets, go to the Unconventional Diner.

From there, it was gather up our luggage from the concierge and head back to the airport. It was a whirlwind trip to DC. I feel reasonably confident that regardless of whatever chaotic nonsense Trump and his flunkies bring to Washington, the city will just keep on keepin' on--and I'm already looking forward to my next visit.