Thing AWESOME: See Michelle Obama

I just came back from a visit to the West Coast, and everyone I talked to would say "so, how's Washington these days?" and I would answer "well, we have some pretty hot neighbors, that's for sure."

I'm not back one day when the Michelle Obama took the neighbor thing one step further, by eating lunch at Good Stuff Eatery, across the street from my office.  So what did I do?  Joined in the growing crowd, whipped out my camera, and waited for the First Lady to exit the building.

She whizzed past us, waving and smiling, in a kicky little ponytail and grey capri pants, as the crowd shouted "We love you!"  (This is, for the record, the most celebrity-esque scrum I've been in.  This is the Lindsey Lohan of Washington).

I do really love and admire how the Obamas are making this city their home, and taking part in the life and culture this city has to offer.  They are some pretty hot neighbors.

Two years ago: Top five Things to do in DC over the summer

Thing 131: Inaugurate a New President

I watched the inauguration of Barack Obama today from the rooftop of the building at 101 Constitution.  We were there to witness history, but with easy access to heaters and bathrooms -- the best of both!  

I was moved to tears during the inaugural address and I was frozen to my toes while waiting for the motorcade to finally go by.  The Boyfriend took some pictures -- enjoy our experience of the inauguration from the comfort of your warm home! 

Thing 98: See the Constitution!

Thing 98: See the Constitution! Or, um, not.


Let me explain. I had a friend in town this weekend. He is an old and dear friend, who I've known since the ninth grade. He has now made this perfectly silly choice to go to law school. In an attempt to support this newfound interest in the law, I suggested that while he was in town -- and in between the late nights filled with booze and dancing -- we pay a visit to the Constitution. And while we were at the National Archives, we'd get to see the Declaration of Independence, the Magna Carta and this exhibit of political cartoons I'd seen advertised in the Metro.

Oh, but the Magna Carter was not on display, and neither was the Constitution! The powers that be are making improvements to the case, and so the documents have been holed up somewhere below ground, waiting until they can have an audience once more.

The trip wasn't a complete waste. Frankly, at this point the Constitution is so very faded and worn there isn't much to see, and the really good stuff is in the Bill of Rights anyway, right? In the main rotunda there are lots of other interesting documents, and the masses usually focus on the Constitution, so JFK's speech, the draft of the Articles of Confederation and the original Marbury v. Madison must be grateful to be getting some attention for once.

The special exhibit of political cartooning was really wonderful, too. It is a retrospective of the work of Clifford Berryman, pioneer of the political cartoon, cartoonist for the Washington Post and then the Washington Evening Star from 1898 through 1948. Berryman is the guy who drew that cartoon of the cute, cuddly teddy bear, creating an icon and a symbol of Teddy Roosevelt that stuck with him through his political career.

The cartoons are beautiful, elegant and still very relevant. I particularly liked the one of the Republican candidate, Calvin Coolidge, alone and unencumbered on the putting green as the Democratic candidates for president whacked each other in the Bitter Contest Bunker.


I also liked the cartoon of the tax payer, being supplicated on all sides by the Republican elephant, the Democratic donkey, and the Progressive goat. Candidates have been promising to cut my taxes since well before I was born -- ain't politics grand?


The entire exhibit is available online, click here to take a look, but if you are in the city head over the archives and see the original. And if you're luckier than my lawyer-in-training friend, you'll get to pop upstairs and see the Constitution while you're there.

Thing 93: Tour the West Wing

Hi! Hey there! Sorry I've been gone for so long, but there were the holidays and then the new year, and then I got my wisdom teeth out and well, here I am, back on the blogging horse. And I believe that you were once promised a recap of my tour of the West Wing. In fact, just the other day Sam said to me "you have to write about it before there's a new administration in the White House!"

So, the first thing I have to say is, the actual West Wing of the White House looks nothing like the West Wing, the TV show. The West Wing in the show seemed rather large, with cubicles and desks and glass-walled offices. People were always walking, always on the move, TVs in every corner broadcasting world news.

The real West Wing is all thick carpets and priceless art work and framed color photographs. The real West Wing is teeny tiny -- the walk between the Oval Office and the Roosevelt Room wouldn't last even half a quip from CJ to Toby. The real West Wing isn't cold and steely, but instead is beautiful and luxurious and elegant.

First things first -- how did I even get in? Well, last month, I received a hurried email from Sam along the lines of "West Wing tour. Send me your social security number ASAP. Details to follow." And faster than you can say "identity theft," I had signed up for a tour led by his friend from church. The cool thing is though that anyone can tour the West Wing (except, you know, terrorists) because not only can executive staff lead tours for their friends and loved ones, but there are tours for the public throughout the week. For more information, click here.



On our tour, we got to visit the press briefing room (!), the colonnade (!), the Roosevelt Room (!), the White House mess hall (!) and OH MY GOD THE SIT ROOM (!!!). Ok, so we weren't allowed to go into the Sit Room. But we did go into the mess hall, and then when we turned around, we were staring at the door of the Situation Room (!!!!!!). Of course, having not gone in, I am still imagining that there's a Big Board with flashing lights and a giant conference table, but whatever it really looks like, just being on the other side of the door was a thrill.

We also got to peek across the threshold of the Cabinet Room (the President's chair is a couple inches taller than everyone else's) and the OVAL OFFICE (!!!!!!!!!!!). The Oval Office is yes, oval, and actually quite small. Also, we learned that each President gets to redecorate it, and this President has made some nice choices, with sunny yellows and sky blues to "symbolize the optimism he feels for the country." He may have missed his true calling as interior designer.

The whole tour took two hours, in part because we absolutely geeked out and took a ton of pictures in the places we were allowed to take them (no inside venues except the press briefing room) and to look at the priceless and magnificent art that is absolutely everywhere. It is a thrill to walk the same hallways as every president since Teddy Roosevelt, to breath in the history and the politics and the excitement, and and to pretend to be CJ Craig.

Get your reservations for restaurant week next week! I should be back up to speed in time to blog Indebleu, Butterfield 9 and Lima. And maybe the Park at Fourteenth? Stay tuned.

Movie: Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

Why, why haven't I seen Mr. Smith Goes to Washington before now?

This is a great American movie. A true classic. The kind that makes me proud to be an American, and proud to be a Washingtonian to boot. Seeing DC through Jimmy Stewart's starry eyes reminds me yet again how fortunate I am to live here every day, in this seat of history and power.

You may be familiar with the plot. A Senator from a southern state dies and the Governor must appoint his replacement to serve out the final two months of the term. And even though Mr. Jefferson Smith has no political experience, well by gum, the Governor appoints the well-loved Boy Scout leader to take the job. Senator Smith arrives in Washington awed by those who came before him. He wanders off and visits the monuments, the archives, Mt. Vernon, Arlington Cemetery with that Jimmy Stewart look of awe and reverence. Of course, all of the Washington establishment thinks he's nuts -- he's going to Mt. Vernon? they smirk -- but in the end, he's the one who embodies true American democracy. One passionate man leading his fellow men for the good of the country.

The drama unfolds when Senator Smith writes up a handy little bill establishing a national boys' camp along the banks of a river that, whoops, is the same spot his fellow Senator is trying to put up a dam after quietly buying up all the land around the river so that he'll make a huge profit. The stakes are set: idealism vs. greed, one honest man vs. a corrupt political machine. Mr. Smith's good name is dragged through the mud and just when he is about to throw in the towel, he visits Mr. Lincoln up at his memorial and then returns to the Senate floor to fight the good fight.

In Frank Capra's and Jimmy Stewart's hands, this isn't a cliched or silly movie, it is an engaging and inspiring movie that pulls you in from its very beginning and won't leave you alone until you are just as in love with the American Dream as Mr. Smith is. Oh sure, it is a bit dated. In 1939, there were only 96 Senators, men wore hats, and that wise cracking secretary's problems will all be solved once she can just settle down and marry. But when I pass the Capitol Dome on my way in to work this morning, I will think twice about all the good ideas and hope that it stands for. And as I read the headlines today, I will hope that there is just a bit of Mr. Smith somewhere in Congress.

Book: Dream City

An occasional series on books and movies about DC:

I arrived in DC during the first year of Mayor Anthony Williams’ first term. Of course, I was in college then, focused on my studies and never venturing much further than Dupont Circle. While I was falling in love with my little piece of the city, I was not at all in tune with the political situation. I kept my voter registration in California and couldn’t have told you who represented Foggy Bottom on the City Council. I was still a visitor. It didn’t matter to me.

Now, of course, it matters to me.

So it was with a lot of enthusiasm that I cracked open Dream City while on my vacation this week. This book, published in 1994, is a fascinating study of the District’s modern history, which in 1994 meant one thing: Marion Barry. Even by 2007 DC’s modern history is dominated by that one man. He still holds a seat on the City Council, still inspires the strongest of feelings – either ridicule or admiration. But I had missed the whole thing, arriving in 1999 after Mayor Barry’s fourth and final term as mayor, and I was woefully ignorant of all that came before me.

I knew there had been riots in the late ‘60s. But I didn’t know what had caused them or where they’d been. Now I know that the recent redevelopment of U Street, Chinatown, and the slow resurgence of H St, NE are all legacies of those riots, nearly 40 years ago. The book traces the story of those riots, how they were sparked, how they became out of control, how they were eventually quelled by the military.

I knew that Marion Barry had smoked crack. I am embarrassed to admit I didn’t know much else. This book traces his beginnings in the student civil rights movement, his arrival in DC and his rise to power at a crucial time when the District was first learning to vote and govern itself. It details his original good intentions, his adaptability to every situation, his administration’s corruption and his downfall. How DC fell to drugs and violence on his watch, while he fell to drugs and women.

The book does an admirable job of presenting both sides of the story and the racial implications of each. Why the 8th Ward – so continuously poor, neglected and ignored – keeps voting for Barry, even now. How feelings about Barry are all mixed up in the city’s racist past, a city that was majority black and controlled by a blatantly racist Congress for a hundred years. Was he the stereotype of a black man addicted to crack or a prominent figure of black power systematically persecuted by a racist, white federal government?

The book does make a very strong argument that Barry took a historic moment, full of potential for the capital city, and squandered it in a sea of rhetoric, corruption and drugs. It sure puts into perspective why Mayor Williams, the boring and budget-oriented bureaucrat, was such a breath of fresh air. And it puts Mayor Fenty into an historical context. I knew his winning every precinct in every ward was important, but even more so now that I know a little bit more about the racial overtones of Barry’s rise to power, and his trial.

The city I love has come a long way in a short time. It has changed vastly even since I arrived eight years ago, and in the last 20 and 40 years even more so. For late comers like me, Dream City is an insight into what we missed, and provides the foundation for understanding what lies ahead.

Thing 52: Meet A Presidential Candidate

You may recall, I once went out for eggs and met ?uestlove. Today, returning to the office from a pudding-buying expedition to the corner bodega, I met...Congressman Dennis Kucinich!

You may remember him from such elections as 2004, and 2008. You may also have heard of him in reference to the "Boy Mayor" of Cleveland, or Wait Wait Don't Tell Me's Official Hopeless Democratic Candidate 2008.

He was enjoying a late lunch with his wife, on the outdoor patio in front of the Greek restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue. I, the political nerd that I am, felt compelled to interrupt them and ask for a picture. They looked only mildly annoyed, but come one, he's at the top of the offbeat celebrity sighting cagetory! I had to ask! And he was happy to oblige. And now I'm thinking my vote is going to Kucinich in '08.

Mostly, I love how much I'm geeking out in this photo.

Thing 37: Spy Tour

Thing 37 marks one tenth of my quest to do 365 fun DC things. It's taken me about three months to get here, and in that time I've pushed and stretched myself to look for things I might never have done. Favorites include the National Building Museum, Ceiba, a Wizards' game, and Urban Dare. As always, I encourage any of you out there to leave a comment with suggestions of things to do next -- what are your favorite activities or places that I might not know about? Send them my way! Readers have already suggested an Argentine gelato place, the revolving restaurant in Crystal City, and Famous Luigi's. They are all on my list, and you'll be reading about them in the coming months.

Sunday afternoon, I met up with a small group at the corner of Massachusetts and Wisconsin, across from the National Cathedral, to take a spy tour of the neighborhood around the Russian embassy. Presented by the Spies of Washington Tour company (and by "company" I mean "one woman"), this particular tour of Glover Park is named the "North by Northwest" tour. It is led by the one and only tour guide at Spies of Washington, a retired Air Force intelligence officer named Carol Bessette. Something of a pioneer herself, Carol originally joined the Air Force for what she thought would be a three year tour. Then, when she decided that her future was in Air Force intelligence, she was told that women could not be intelligence officers. She ultimately found a way around that by having the air force send her to graduate school, and served over 25 years as an intelligence officer. Which means she knows a lot.


Unfortunately, she can't divulge most of it, only that which is available in the public record. But there is some pretty interesting stuff out there, and it is great fun to learn about intrigues and espionage that occurred in regular old apartment buildings. Take, for example, the Alban Towers apartments, which Carol talks about at the start of the tour. In the 1930s, the Japanese embassy kept an apartment there as a residence for the Ambassador. American intelligence wanted to rule out that they had a secret radio in the apartment, and set up a long term operation where they would flick the lights or cut the power briefly over the course of several months. Then one day, they cut it entirely, and sent two agents dressed as repairmen to seek out the problem in the apartment. After a thorough search, they learned that there was no radio in the residence, and it had to be located in the embassy itself.



Carol takes us down Wisconsin to the Russian Embassy, an enormous compound about three blocks wide and three blocks long, its white, imposing block building towering over an iron gate. The tour comprises primarily of a walk around the perimeter of the embassy, with stops at mail boxes or storefronts to tell various stories of espionage or failed spying. We learned briefly about Robert Hansen and his signal site -- a mailbox in Georgetown he would make one single chalk mark on as a signal to the Soviets that he would be making a drop at a prearranged time and place. The Soviet diplomat would then stroll the .8 miles down the hill, check out the mailbox and report back to his superiors. Secrets would be spilled.


There's the story of Vitaly Yurchenko, a KGB officer who defected to the US during the Cold War. The hypochondriac Yurchenko thought that he had stomach cancer, and wanted to die in as a hero in America with top quality medical care. When it turned out he was perfectly healthy, he escaped his CIA handler while dining at the now defunct Au Pied Du Cochon in Georgetown, hoofed it up Wisconsin Ave, and redefected back to the USSR.


She tells us the story of a mysterious package, thrown over the wall of the Russian Embassy containing classified documents and instructions on how to get more where that came from for $30,000. And she speculates on where the tunnel below the embassy may lie, which Robert Hansen warned the Soviets about when they were constructing the embassy. The Soviets had already discovered that Americans had built a tunnel beneath their embassy in Berlin to tap into their phone lines, so it was not out of the realm of the possible. Then again, the tunnel was never found, so it may simply be a spy myth.


Carol is extremely knowledgeable and well read on the material, she is friendly and grandmotherly, and she relates many of the neighborhood's stories to her own experiences with colleagues or giving tours. She refers to young women "entertaining" men in their apartments or hotel rooms, with a sort of faux modesty that is very endearing. Mostly, she tells a good story, and with such a juicy and romanticized topic as spying, it is great fun to listen to.

Carol will resume her walking tours in the fall.

Thing 36: Learn Something at the Library of Congress

I am going to go out on a limb here and say that the Library of Congress is the most under used resource in the District, at least for me. I know that lots of people use it for policy making, legislating and academic study, but considering that it I work one block from the thing and that it houses every book ever printed, I never take advantage of it as a resource.

So with that in mind, yesterday I went to attend a lunch time book talk of To The Castle and Back, the newest book and memoir by former Czech President Vaclav Havel.

After disclosing my obsession with embassies, it will likely come as no surprise that I am a nut for Czech history and that I have a deep love and appreciation for, admiration of and blind devotion to Havel. I won't get into the extent of my love, but let's just say that one of my favorite anecdotes from my life is when I went to Prague and basically stalked him at the castle, making it into his anteroom and scoring two autographed pictures of him.

So obviously, a talk given about his memoir by the translator caught my eye.

What I didn't realize until I got there was that the translator, Paul Wilson, was one original members of The Plastic People of the Universe, a rock band that contributed to the dissident movement in Soviet-controlled Czechoslovakia. He was ultimately put on trial by the Soviets and expelled from Prague to his native Canada in 1977, but maintained contact with the underground dissident movement, including with Havel.

At the Library of Congress, Wilson was introduced by the Czech Ambassador, who also played a video greeting recorded by Havel welcoming us to the Library of Congress, and making some self effacing jokes about his book and his life's work.

I was pretty much in a giant candy store.

After the Czech Ambassador spoke eloquently about Havel's genius, and then Havel himself, wearing a sweater and jeans and laboring to breathe because of that whole smoking constantly thing he does, Paul Wilson took a seat and was interviewed about translating this book, his relationship with Vaclav and his role in the Czech dissident movement. It was really fascinating, learning about how he arrived in Czechoslovakia, became involved with the Plastic People and came to symbolize freedom of expression in an authoritarian environment (answer: almost entirely by accident). How difficult it is translating Vaclav Havel's work because he writes with such complexity and how he tries to capture the symbolism and mood of the piece for an English speaking readership. How he has a beer with Havel every time he goes back to the Czech Republic, of which I am insanely jealous.



The hour ended with a clips from an upcoming documentary that some friends of Wilson will be releasing later this year. They filmed President Havel during 160 days over the course of several years of his presidency and after he left office. Again, his self effacing humor and charm are so endearing during these moments of candor they captured. He was the first president of a country transitioning out of Communism and into a free market democracy. There was no precedent or protocol for him to follow. He cracks jokes about having to meet to discuss the menu before a visit from Jacques Chirac and how he is terrified of offending the visiting Saudi royal family. He is just an ordinary guy, a gifted playwright with challenging ideas, who stepped into a powerful position as best he knew how. And I really, really love him.

Hopefully, this will inspire some of you to check out (Czech out, ha!) the schedule of upcoming events at the Library of Congress. They have lectures, book talks, poetry readings and concerts going on all the time and it is a huge resource that we are lucky to have available to us as DC residents.

Oh, and then I saw Theresa Heinz Kerry chatting on Pennsylvania Avenue as I walked back to my office.

Thing 35: Embassy Open House Day

Good Friend David and I have a thing for embassies. It is nerdy and embarrassing in the extreme, but I figure it was bound to come out eventually, so here we go. We love embassies. We group them by world geographic regions, and then walk to them. On weekends. When they're...not open. Then we take pictures out front of them. And we learn fun facts about those countries. Then we cook something from that part of the world, or visit a restaurant that celebrates that particular cuisine. We've been doing this very slowly over the past two years. Our goal is eventually to have visited every embassy in DC. I am hanging my head in shame as I type this.

Anyway, you can imagine our utter glee and excitement when I saw a sign in the metro for EU EMBASSY OPEN HOUSE DAY! This is an international affairs nerd's fantasy made real. There was even a "passport" to print off from the website that you could get stamped at every embassy you visited! Just a word of warning, we took a lot of photos over the course of the day, so this entry looks a lot longer than it is. Don't give up!

Last Saturday, at 10:00 am sharp, GFD and I met in Dupont Circle and began walking up Massachusetts Avenue to tour as many embassies as we possibly could in one day. We began with the Embassy of Luxembourg:

It was already packed full of people, even though it had only just opened. Throughout the day, GFD and I remained astonished at how popular this event was. We were pretty sure our love of embassies was unique. And sure, we're probably the only ones who walk for miles to take our pictures in front of embassies that aren't open. But apparently, hundreds of people are happy to spend there sunny Saturday touring European embassies. Many of them had long lines to get in all day.

The embassy of Luxembourg is large and spacious, with a beautiful ceiling in the main conference room:

Next stop: Bulgaria. The Bulgarian embassy had a sampling of wine (not very good), feta cheese (very good), canapes that didn't look particularly Bulgarian, and a traditional Bulgarian folk band, which GFD and I liked a lot, but comes across kind of annoying on the video.

Then it was up the street to Greece. We were hoping for retsina and spanikopita. Instead, they had a very Greek buffet of potato chips, pretzels, and Coca Cola. They did, however have a table that featured all kinds of Greek products, but you were not invited to take those home with you.

Next stop, to Cyprus. The embassy of Cyprus was a small place, the main attraction was a travel movie being broadcast in the main room. There were, however, snacks. Coconut candies, and strange fig and rose flavored gummies and a large platter of halloumi cheese samples. Halloumi is salty and firm, like feta but less creamy. Next to the samples are pamphlets with recipes featuring halloumi cheese, which I cannot wait to test out.

At this point, we transitioned from Massachusetts Avenue to Connecticut Avenue, to see the Maltese embassy. It is a tiny townhouse, not much to tour. We waited downstairs with one of the Knights of Malta until the group upstairs left and made room for us. When we were finally allowed upstairs, we saw why it had taken so long -- our group of about twenty was herded into the Ambassador's office, where he and his wife greeted us, shaking hands. Then the Ambassador himself gives us a brief tutorial about his country of origin -- its colonial history, exports and industry, language and culture. And no, the Maltese Falcon has nothing to do with Malta. Someone asked.

As we left the Maltese embassy, the shuttle bus was just stopping, and we hopped on for a ride up Connecticut Avenue to the Slovakian and Austrian embassies. The Slovakian embassy was airy and spacious. They were serving some delicious cinnamon strudel.



Across the way was the Austrian embassy. Once inside, in the main foyer whose centerpiece is a giant gold statue of a violinist, there was a line for Austrian coffee and line for a tasting of Austrian wines. We chose the wine line (surprise!), which took a very long time because each group of about 12 were tasting eight wines. Luckily, GFD and I began talking to a very nice couple in line behind us...who turned out to be the parents of the babysitter of one of my best friends in college.

Two of the wines turned out to be so good that GFD and I ordered a mixed case with both of them, to split between the two of us. Effective marketing!

Then we took the shuttle down to Spring of Freedom Street in Rock Creek Park, to visit the Czech and Hungarian embassies.

These embassies were about to close as we were visiting, but we had just enough time for a free Pilsner Urquell, to pose with a woman in costume, and to make fun of the Hungarian's love for industrial size tubes of paprika cream. (And before I hear from angry Hungarians, that bit is a joke. I've never had it, but GFD assures me that paprika cream is actually really good).

At this point, the logistics of the event kind of broke down. It was 2pm, and the Czech and Hungarian embassies had closed for the day. The shuttle bus arrived, but it was already full. No one was going to get off here, because both embassies were already closed. And there were about 50 people waiting to get on the bus. The buses were running about every 20 minutes. So GFD made the impulsive and poorly thought out idea to walk back to Dupont.

After half an hour, when we still hadn't even passed the zoo and were fantasizing about what we wanted to eat for our very late lunch, we saw the error in our way. We hailed a cab in the middle of the parkway and asked the driver to drop us off in front of Potbelly Sandwich works on Connecticut Ave.

Quenched and sated, we strolled over to the Slovenian embassy, which was displaying posters of its brand new Euro coins and brochures of half naked men and women covered in mud and/or chocolate, entreating you to visit the lovely spas of Slovenia.

Finally, worn out, tired, dusty, and not a little sore, Slave Driver David made me walk over to 23rd and M Street to visit the European Commission. There were a lot of information booths set up, about the environment, European police, the Euro, food safety etc, but we were so worn out that we couldn't absorb too much information. I did pick up a pretty neat calendar about European Union foods though.


It was around 4:00 by now, and I was in some serious need of a nap. All in all, we ate some really tasty and exotic foods, were exposed to music from other cultures, picked up about 8 lbs of promotional materials, learned some new recipes for halloumi cheese, ordered 12 bottles of cheap and delicious Austrian wines, met the Maltese Ambassador, and desperately want to visit Slovenia on our next vacation.

Where else in the world but DC could all this have happened in one day?

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Movie: All The President's Men

An occasional series on books and movies about DC:

May I begin by saying that I could look at Robert Redford, with his side burns and high-waisted trousers, all day long? Can I just get that out of the way, and then we can take for granted from here on out that he is easy on the eyes? Great.

All The President's Men is the ultimate movie for those who love DC. In addition to being about our city's industry -- politics (corrupt politics no less!) -- it incorporates the beauty and majesty of the city into the movie, essentially making DC another character. We see the view of the Lincoln Memorial from the rooftop cafe of the Kennedy Center, the Capitol dome reflected in the glass door of the Library of Congress, the beauty of the illuminated White House back when the street in front of the building was still open for traffic.

Of course there is the Watergate itself, the actual building that has caused every subsequent White House scandal, imagined or real, to be suffixed with "-gate". When I was in college, I would do my grocery shopping at the Watergate, and the Howard Johnson's across the street that the lookout used had already been converted into a GW dorm. I pass the Washington Post offices every morning on my way to the metro. The Library of Congress is only a few blocks from my office. Bob Woodward and Ben Bradlee are institutions in this town. Which is all to say that this movie and the story it tells are fully integrated into my life, as a Washingtonian.

For more details on the sights and significance of this movie, I recommend taking Sarah's tour of Movie Sights in Washington, from Washington Walks. Yes, this is Sarah of Thing 18 and Thing 28 fame. She knows things like that it cost $90,000 to film that stunning shot in the Library of Congress reading room that pans up and up and up to the ceiling.

In the meantime, add All The President's Men to your Netflix queue and enjoy this story of investigative reporters bringing the President down. Or just enjoy Robert Redford and those sideburns. You'll be pretty pleased, either way.

Thing 28: Historic Hotels II

It seems only appropriate that for Sarah's bachelorette party, we would visit some historic hotels. After all, Thing 18 was her suggestion.

So as Sarah bids farewell to single-ness, her sister and best friend organized an excursion to two bars in historic DC hotels, and what better way to travel than by limo?

When we initially got in the limo, amid the photographs and champagne and the trying out of all the various buttons and switches, our chauffeur had been instructed to simply drive us around DC for the first half hour for a view of the sights. The tint of the windows in our luxurious vehicle added a deeper hue to the color of the white marble monuments and the grey-purple night sky. We passed the Capitol dome, the Washington, the Lincoln, the Jefferson, the World War II memorial with its dancing fountains and the Lincoln lit behind it...everything looked so beautiful in luminous white and tinted gray. Also, it's fab to see people peer at your limo and try and guess if anyone famous is in there.

Our first historic hotel bar was the Town & Country at the Mayflower Hotel, on Connecticut Avenue. The Mayflower was built in 1925 by the same developer who brought us Brookland. At its opening, it was nicknamed the "Grande Dame of Washington" for its luxury and elaborate trimmings. At the time, the hotel contained more gold trim than any other building in Washington, save the Library of Congress. Over the years, the hotel has figured into presidential history -- FDR composed his "nothing to fear but fear itself" inaugural address as a guest at the Mayflower, and his successor, Harry Truman, lived at the hotel for 90 days as the White House underwent renovations.

The Mayflower's bar, the Town & Country, is famous for its crowd of Washington's powerful and elite, but also for its bartender of 30 years, Sam. Sam is famous for his perfect mixing of 101 kinds of martinis, and entertaining patrons with his magic tricks. Unfortunately, Sam wasn't there for our visit, but we went ahead and ordered his signature cocktail, the Sam I Am.

The Town & Country is dimly lit, with rich wood furniture and many quiet corners for discussing state secrets. Our Sam I Ams were delicious, a mix of gin, amaretto and cranberry juice, that tasted reminiscent of an orange julius. GFD was there, and he ordered a Peppar Martini. Garnished with a single chili, the cocktail had just enough heat to leave the lips with a pleasant tingle.

The clientele and the bartenders were all exceedingly nice, happy to wish Sarah well and buy her drinks. We drank our martinis and then headed back to the limo for our second destination: the Round Robin bar at the Willard Hotel.

The Willard, located on Pennsylvania Ave (across the street from Pershing Square, where GFD and I had started our day what now felt like a lifetime ago), was founded in 1850 when Henry Willard bought the property. The hotel is nicknamed the "residence of presidents," hosting every president since Franklin Pierce at an event, as an overnight guest, or in the cases of Lincoln and Coolidge, as an extended stay resident. Delegates met at the Willard in 1861 as part of a Peace Conference in an attempt to avoid a civil war. Wilson formulated his League of Nations during meetings at the hotel. Martin Luther King, Jr. composed his "I have a dream" speech in his room at the Willard in the days before the March on Washington.

But the Willard is most famous for its lobby. Legend has it the term "to lobby" started there, when those seeking favors of President Ulysses S. Grant would approach him as he relaxed in the lobby of the Willard. And what a lobby it is. Everything is exquisite and over the top. Marble floors, golden accented ceilings, hanging lights that allow for the proper level of warm light and cool shadow. Beautiful arrangements of fresh flowers adorn the tables and live palms sit in Chinese cloisonne pots. The walls are all a pale yellow with turquoise trim and white accents.

The Round Robin bar is small, with a circular bar in the center of the room, and a handful of tables lining the dark green papered walls. Ink-drawn portraits of the bar's more famous regulars hang on the walls -- Eleanor Roosevelt, Abraham Lincoln, Mark Twain. The specialty drink is the mint julep, that signature drink of southern gentility, which we all ordered. A pint's worth of mint, bourbon and ice is what we all received, and if the champagne and the Sam I Am hadn't put us in a celebratory mood already, well a pint of bourbon would have done the trick all on its own.

We installed ourselves into a nook of the historic lobby and drank our tremendous drinks, talked and joked and laughed. We made speeches, toasted Sarah, even sang a little.

And then, at 12:30, before our limo turned back into a pumpkin, we set our now-empty pints down and left the ornate and beautiful historic space in time for the limo to carry us home.

Thing 15: Lobby

I exit the Capitol South metro every morning, along with Americans from all over the country who have come to the Hill to explain their cause to their Member of Congress. Every interest group and association imaginable organizes a "Hill Day," designed to sit constituents down with their elected Representative and tell their story, pleading their case for legislation that will make their life better. The other day, a group of a dozen blind people were leaving the metro and heading to the Congressional office buildings. The day before it was some global-warming-doesn't-exist folks. Save Darfur, save organized labor, save social security, save small businesses, save the planet -- they all have their day on the Hill.

And yesterday, it was me.

This is not a political blog, but very briefly I will explain that circumstances in Congress on Thursday managed to outrage me so much that I felt compelled Friday morning to storm the House Office Buildings and give someone a piece of my mind. I was angry because District residents were getting close to having a voting Member in Congress -- finally, just a little representation for matters of taxation. A Republican Congressman managed to block the vote on a procedural technicality. He asked for a "motion to recommit," which sends a bill back to committee, in order to attach an amendment that would repeal DC's handgun ban. Conservative Democrats (the "Blue Dogs") were in a bind because they can't be seen as "pro-gun control" in their home districts, and the bill -- which had widely been predicted to sail through -- was frozen in place. The leadership remains unsure of exactly what to do next.

I was livid. It felt to me like Congress was saying "either you can have a vote and your streets won't be safe OR you can stay safe and voiceless." I checked in with DCist, who had opened up an all out assault on Rep. Boustany's office. The Congressman had been attributed (falsely, it turned out) with saying that DC is "the only city . . . that every Senator and every Member of Congress has a vested interest in seeing that it works properly, that water works, sewer works." Boustany has adopted us, DCist gleefully proclaimed. Call his office for constituent services! I did one better. I did what people travel thousands of miles to DC to do: have a constituent meeting.

I walked over the the Longworth building, found Boustany's office (those House office buildings are mazes!) and asked to meet with the person on staff who handles voting rights. I was polite, good-natured and kept my ire buried because I know that the surest way to get dismissed is to be an angry or combative constituent. The staff assistant went back into the office to see who might be willing to speak to me and came back out assuring me that the staffer on this issue was busy at the moment, but to please be in touch and he would be happy to meet with me.

Next stop was my actual Congressional Rep. -- Eleanor Holmes Norton's office. Of course, she can't vote on any legislation, which is the problem in the first place. I asked her front office staff where I should go and who I should try to meet with. They were thrilled and suggested I try to see Rep. Lamar Smith, who put forth the motion to recommit in the first place. They also steered me towards Rep. Souder, who has made a hobby of attempting to repeal DC's ban on handguns. I ran around the Rayburn and Longworth buildings and requested meetings with all the relevant people. None of them could meet with me, but both offices said I was free to contact the staffer and request a meeting in person.

Tired from the running and the righteous indignation, I returned to work to email the staffers, and maybe even do a little of that for which I actually get paid to do.

A staffer from the Judiciary Committee, working under the supervision of Rep. Smith, called me back about a half hour later. I asked him why his boss was trying to confuse Congressional representation with gun control. He suggested that perhaps the best way for the District to gain full Congressional representation was to cede the land back to Maryland. That way, he explained, we'd get a Congress person and two Senators. It is hard to argue with an insane though technically correct idea, so I thanked him for taking the time to actually call me back and went back to my work.

In the early afternoon, Boustany's staffer emailed me back. He apologized that he was unavailable earlier that morning, and would I mind coming back that afternoon to meet with him? He could fit me in at 4:00.

Shortly before 4:00, I headed back to Longworth for my "constituent" meeting. Of course, I wasn't a constituent, so I'm guessing the meeting had little or no impact. Most likely this kindly staffer dismissed everything I had to say just as soon as I left. He explained to me that he felt the bill in question was unconstitutional. I pleaded with him to let the courts decide on constitutional issues and in the meantime the reality is that people live here and we are real and we pay taxes and we're sick and tired of being voiceless. He was really nice and polite, and I left with a feeling of what it might actually be like to lobby my Representative. It felt pretty good. It makes me want my own even more.

Allow me just a moment of sentimentality -- I can't imagine any other country in the world where I could get mad at the government and just walk into their offices and plead my case. It makes me proud of my city and my country that the blind, the anti-environment, the pro-medicare and any other group in the country can speak freely about how they want to be represented in Congress. Even one pissed off girl without a Representative and with a slow morning at work can make a little bit of noise, and maybe have just a bit of influence.

Update: For more about the mix up with Boustany, read this story in the Washington Post. My comment on DCist about my constituent meeting is actually quoted!

Bonus: Movie Review

In my love of all things DC, I enjoy a good politically/DC minded movie or book from time to time. As a little change of pace and to keep things different, I plan on reviewing those books or movies that are related to the theme of this blog.

I am probably the last person in DC to have seen The War Room, the campaign documentary about Clinton's first presidential run. This is the movie that put James Carville on the map, before he became his own parody. Any Democratic political type has already seen this movie; I missed the memo and only got around to netflixing it this weekend.

The movie is a lot of fun, if only for the nostalgia it inspires. Bill was still a fresh face, Carville still had hair, Hillary wears an array and rainbow of headbands, and Gennifer Flowers was demanding to be the center of attention back before anyone was willing to listen. Also, as someone who has worked on a variety of campaigns, it does an accurate job of capturing that ragged, exhausted, faking-your-way-through quality of any campaign. Well, of any Democratic campaign, because those are the only ones I've worked on. Maybe Republican campaigns are well rested, well put together and planned all the way through. Maybe that's why they keep winning.

But I digress. The documentary is not narrated, nor are any of the people labeled at any given time, so you're pretty much left to your own devices to figure out who is who and what is going on. Which is fine for someone like Paul Begala, but I'm less inclined to know who Stan Greenberg is by sight alone. And given the relentless pace of a campaign, the movie moves kind of slowly. That said, it is great fun to watch Stephanopoulos and Carville tweak and finesse their messages, spinning the debates, refuting the attacks and rallying the troops. Perhaps the most interesting of all is the footage of Carville on Election Day, ad libbing the various concession speeches Clinton may have to give later that day. We all have our doubts, even the cockiest among us.