The day after Thanksgiving, Laura and I headed to Washington DC for an anniversary getaway. Jason’s wife Tara has an apartment in the city that they were generously letting us use for the weekend, so we just needed to pack clothes for two days and head up.
After dropping McKenna off at her grandma’s place, we decided to live life on the wild side and actually drive into DC rather than taking the Metro in. Fortunately, the city was still largely deserted after Thanksgiving.
After unpacking, we walked to nearby Adams Morgan for dinner, and we selected a restaurant that would provide food that was the least Thankgivingy – a Thai place. There we discovered that we were so wussy by Thai standards that a two pepper “medium” heat meal felt like it should be ten or eleven peppers to us. They obviously need to recalibrate their pepper icon system.
We finished dinner and walked up to a local sports bar to watch UVA’s annual loss to Tech in football. There was, by the way, only one sports bar on the main Adams Morgan drag, but four or five hookah bars.
The next day, we walked down to Founding Farmer’s for brunch. The walk revealed several things about DC:
- People in DC really, really like to jog; many joggers have adapted to the cold weather by purchasing Hoth jogging gear so that they will never not get to jog.
- There are a boatload of CVS stores in DC. There might even be more CVSs than hookah bars, although I’ll admit that I haven’t studied the issue scientifically.
At Founding Farmers, the couple across from us at the bar was extremely, um, affectionate, causing Laura and I to speculate on what their deal was. The situation was especially perplexing because they were wearing wedding rings; the only possible explanation that we could come up with is they were having an affair, which seemed more plausible given that we had encountered a couple having an affair the last time Laura got a Bloody Mary at a restaurant. Did I mention that Laura and I were celebrating our anniversary?
The post-brunch plan was to go to the National Gallery, which was about a mile away from Founding Farmers. On the way, we stopped at the White House, where Laura struck up a conversation with a security guard and asked him about where the guy who jumped the fence a while back was able to get over. This seemed to me to be something like asking a TSA officer about smuggling a bomb onto a plane, but the guard answered and made no arrests.
Before we could get to the museums, Laura aggravated her injured knee and, after ibuprofen didn’t help, took a muscle relaxer. The muscle relaxer helped with Laura’s knee, but not with her appreciation of modern American art.
On our way to DC, Anne and Carl had generously provided us with gift cards to the Hard Rock Cafe, which they inexplicably possessed, so we decided to eat dinner there. The entire time we were at the restaurant, we tried to imagine Anne and Carl, who are vegetarians, eating there. It was literally impossible. Whenever I tried to picture them choosing from among the fried entrees or enduring a Twisted Sister video, the cognitive dissonance became so great that my brain threatened to shut down. Anne once vetoed a restaurant choice because it smelled like french fries, and I think the slogan “Our restaurants smell like french fries” is a major part of the Hard Rock Cafe’s advertising campaign.
We capped off the evening with a peaceful tour of the monuments at night, which was a good way to walk off the chicken macaroni and cheese I had just eaten while watching a Rod Stewart video.