People I've Found!

I rarely write about books, movies, or restaurants I don't like. I'd rather spread the word about the ones I DO like. But today I just have to make an exception.

I mean, how can you fuck up barbecue?

For supper on my last full day in Washington DC, I strolled down the street from my flat to a nice row of shops and restaurants. The smells outside Fat Pete's Barbecue were enticing, so I went in. The fuckery started the moment the door shut behind me.

The restaurant was relatively crowded for a weeknight, with an upper level and a lower level that were mostly full. But there was no one at the door to steer me toward a table. I waited for a few minutes, then wandered over the bar and asked about seating. 

"Oh," said the bartender, as if the idea of customers wanting to sit at a table had never occurred to her. "You can sit over there if you want."

Okay, then. I sat. A server came and handed me four different menus: a much-abused daily menu of computer-printed pages, a beer and wine menu, a pasta menu, and a barbecue menu. This put me off from the start. I don't like wading through thirty pages to figure out what to order.

I finally settled on pulled pork with potato salad, cornbread, and cole slaw. I also ordered a cocktail called a Strawberry Surprise because it had amaretto in it and I like amaretto quite a lot. I also asked for water.

The server brought me disposable eatingware in plastic wrapping, another bad sign. The server also brought my water. It was in--and I'm not making this up--a plastic Dixie cup. It was just enough water to knock back a couple of pills. They were stingy with WATER? I should have left right then, but I stuck it out. Mistake.

My food arrived in due course. (Foodie friends, you may find this section like a car wreck you can't look away from.) It was awful, from top to bottom.

The pulled pork barbecue had no barbecue sauce on it. Nothing. It had been flavored with a little salt, and that was it. I stirred it around to see if any sauce was puddled on the bottom. Nope. Bland as a Christian rock band. When the server came to check on me, I asked for some barbecue sauce. This request, like the request for a seat, was treated with a surprised look. Barbecue sauce in a barbecue restaurant? Who would want that? She left and returned with a teeny plastic cup of skimpy sauce. I drizzled it over the pork and tried again. No change. The sauce had no flavor. It was like eating fatty Styrofoam.

Meanwhile, we also had the potato salad. It was wrong in every possible way. The flavor wasn't too bad, but the potatoes were in chunks too big to eat in one bite, and the cheap eatingware was too wimpy to cut them up. I think there were a few cucumbers swimming in there, begging for the release of death, but they were drowned out by the watery, nasty sauce that covered them. It had the consistency of thin gravy, but none of the taste.

Next I tried the cole slaw and actually spat it out. It was one of the vilest things I had ever put in my mouth, and feel free to joke about that as long as you keep mind how awful that cole slaw was.

The cornbread was covered in Saran wrap, which took considerable time to undo and told me that the stuff wasn't very fresh. It came with minuscule bits of butter. The bread was actually halfway decent, but it was cakey and sweet, and it couldn't make up for the awful that came with it.

And then there was the drink. The Strawberry Surprise was a surprise in that it had no strawberry in it. It was basically club soda with a dash of amaretto and a lime garnish clinging apologetically to the rim of the glass. 

I should have alerted management and said, "This food is inedible, and I'm not paying for it." I should have left. But I didn't. I don't know why.

Usually I laugh good-naturedly at bad restaurants. "Oh well--they tried." But in this case, I just couldn't find it in me. Pete's had signs all over proclaiming they'd been declared the best BBQ in DC, and aren't we wonderful? No, they weren't. Truthfully, it all came across as arrogant. The servers treated me like an afterthought, or even an intruder, compounding the problem. This place is easily in the bottom three of Worst Restaurants I've Eaten In Ever.

Avoid. 

 The weather was kinder today. Clouds blocked the sun and it was much cooler, though it was still a hot day. I set out, determined to see SOMETHING worth seeing today.

I didn't dick around this time. I went straight to the Library of Congress. 

The LoC isn't really a library. It's a museum of American books. You don't get to wander the stacks, but the library has put a bunch of interesting library artifacts on display for visitors. The big, vaulted central room and the gallery above it were impressive. It's more like a cathedral than a library, and that was on purpose. Back when the LoC was built, libraries were venerated institutions dedicated to learning for all. It was religious, in its way. Hence the impressive architecture. 

It was also very crowded. Yesterday the Archives and the MAH had only a sprinkling of visitors, so I was surprised at the big crowd at the Library. Why was it more popular? No idea.

I poked around to my satisfaction and realized I was starving. I'd skipped breakfast, and it was already way past lunchtime. 

Outside, I found a hole-in-the-wall diner. It was as narrow as a Dutch house, and it was crowded. I had to squeeze past other diners to get to the counter, where I ordered a club sandwich and fries. The server brought me the fries the moment they came out of the fryer, so they were hot and crispy and perfect. The club sandwich was delicious, too. I think this diner was one of the high points of Washington! 

That done, I headed over to the Folger Shakespeare Library because ... Shakespeare! This place was pretty cool. It's a private museum, so there's no security check, for one thing. For another, they have 84 copies of the First Folio. Published in 1623 (seven years after Shakespeare's death), it was the first compilation of Shakespeare's plays and it saved him from historical obscurity. Without the Folio, no one today would know who Shakespeare was or what his plays were like. 

The Folios are on display on a big wall. They lie flat on their sides behind glass under dim light to avoid fading. There's also a lot of historical information about the different copies (who owned them, where they were found, etc.) and about Shakespeare himself. They also had a replica of an FF that you could page through to see what it was like. The thing is HEAVY! 

Multiple times while I was there, I found myself thinking, "Ooo! I have to tell my students this" before I remembered I won't ever tell them anything again. It made the museum into an odd trip. I was going just for my own interest, not to better myself as an educator.

Next, I headed back to the National Mall to see what trouble I could get into. To my surprise, Capitol Hill was open for business, so I went in.

I should mention here two features of every national building in Washington DC. First is that admission is free to all of them. Second is that you have to go through airport-level security to go into any of them. I understood why, but when you've removed your belt for the third time in one day, you get aggravated.

Anyway, I wove through security at the Capitol and had a look-see.

The inside was more like a train station than a government building. There were lines for this and that, and crowds of people sloshing from one side to the other. Lots of statues. I started to explore, and then stopped. I didn't feel good. Emotionally, that is. I really, really didn't want to be there. Why? The current administration. I just couldn't stomach being in the same building as the current Congress. So I left. I'd been in for maybe ten minutes.

Outside, there was a guy sitting in a chair under an umbrella. He was wrapped in white bandages from head to foot. A sign at his feet explained that he was in day three of a hunger strike. I felt like I should offer him words of support or something, but I didn't feel comfortable with the idea for some reason, so I didn't.

Next, I went to the Supreme Court building. Is it weird that the Supreme Court building has a gift shop? Yes. Yes, it is. The lobby area is really another museum, and you can also join tours. There are signs everywhere about LIBERTY and FREEDOM and RULE OF LAW. I felt angry and nauseated at the sight. So I turned my back and left. So much for that.

I was done. I just couldn't stand the thought of examining yet another display expounding the glories of the American government and its emphasis on freedom and liberty and justice. Not when the current administration was destroying every one of those ideals. It was time to go back to the flat.

The buses weren't running right--some kind of breakdown somewhere--so I treated myself to a nice, air-conditioned Uber and rode back to the flat, chewing over what had just happened.

Wednesday in Washington. The heat wave continues. 

Today was my long day, the one day when I had no appointments or other engagements. It was to be my main day to tour the city. There's no way to see even a zillionth of Washington in one day, so I'd narrowed it down. I'd spend the morning at the Smithsonian and the afternoon at the National Archive and the Library of Congress. Then, if I had the energy, I'd try another museum.

Best laid plans...

First, the accidental good thing. I passed a department store and remembered that it was supposed to rain later. An umbrella would be a good idea. I popped in and bought one. Then I realized that I'd have to carry it all day unless I wanted to go all the way back to my flat to drop it off. I decided to carry it. Good decision, it turned out.

The sun was blazing, punishing, and relentless. It slammed into me the moment I exited the Metro, and I had several blocks to walk to the Smithsonian. I kept to the shade of the buildings as much as I could, but I was seriously sweating by the time I arrived.

The Smithsonian was closed.

Or rather, that big castle building that everyone thinks of when you say "Smithsonian" was closed for renovation.  A helpful sign suggested that disappointed tourists visit one of the other Smithsonian museums nearby. I trudged sweatily to the Museum of American History, which was wonderfully air-conditioned. The MAH was diverting, but I already knew most of the history it explained. The displays were interesting enough, but I'd come to see the famous American artifacts like the Spirit of Saint Louis and Lincoln's chair from Ford's Theater. Well, whattayagonnado? I explored the MAH to my satisfaction, then headed toward the National Archive and the Library of Congress.

Here's where the umbrella came in. At this time of day, the sun was overhead and the  building shadows were non-existent. I promptly put up my new umbrella. If I hadn't had it with me, I would have been forced to go back "home," or hide inside another building for a few hours.

To get to the LoC by foot, you have to pass by (or through) the National Mall, so I explored that on the way. It's massive. Photos don't give you the sheer scale of the place. I've seen smaller prairie farms. Trees line the sides of the grassy part, and I gratefully kept to their shade. I walked the entire length of the mall toward Capitol Hill. At one point, I stopped at a little cafe, the only one in sight, and bought a can of Coke for $4.50. It was worth it.

I found the National Archive first. Here the main thing to see are the originals of the founding documents: the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights. They're kept under glass on the third floor under an echoing rotunda. The documents are faded to the point of near illegibility. I was barley able to make out John Hancock's signature. But it was still impressive to see them. There was also a letter from Abraham Lincoln, in his own handwriting, demanding emancipation for enslaved people. I felt like I was reaching back in time and touching Lincoln when I read his words from his own hand.

Outside, I realized I was starving, so I found a place to eat before hitting the Library of Congress. I had to pass Capitol Hill though, so I figured I'd stop by, thinking I could do a little walk-through, I found it surrounded by fencing. No one allowed inside. I wondered what they were afraid of. Visitors were left to stand in the blazing sun and had to content myself with looking at the enormous building from the outside. And it IS enormous. A huge display of wealth and power.

By now, I felt nauseated and a little dizzy, early symptoms of dehydration. I wouldn't make it to the Library at this rate. The nearest building was the Botanical Garden, so I headed over there. That could be kind of fun, I thought. The lobby was life-savingly cool, but the areas with the plants were tropical--almost as warm as outside. I couldn't handle more than a couple minutes. I went back to the lobby and sat on a bench, reading, until I had cooled off enough to continue.

At this point, I realized I was just exhausted. The thought of touring more buildings that might or might not be open made me cringe. So I went back to the flat. This, however, involved a long walk to the subway station, still in the all-powerful sun. I made it back safely and drank about a gallon of water, then just rested for the afternoon.

I got restless later, though, and remembered that the flat was basically across the street from the National Zoo. They closed in a couple of hours, but hey--admission was free, so I wasn't losing anything by going. 

Hoo boy.

When you enter the National Zoo, you find yourself at the beginning of a long, wide brick avenue. You walk down it and walk and walk and walk. Bamboo thickets line the thing so you can't see anything but the avenue. Why bamboo? Pandas! The pandas are the jewels in the crown, the stars of the show, the gooey center of the lava cakes. And they don't let you forget it. Every few feet there was a panda sign, a panda cafe, a stand selling panda merch. We have pandas! Did you know we have pandas? Come see the pandas!

I kept walking and walking and walking. No wildlife at all. Were there any actual animals in this zoo? I finally came across a gap in the bamboo barrier that revealed I was actually on a bridge above the elephant enclosure. Two elephants, far below and far away, hosed themselves with dust. That was it.

I kept on going. Everywhere I went, though, I found empty enclosures. No sign of any animal life. Not a sausage. A sign said the sloth bear was being attended to by the vet, but that was it. The hell?

At last I came to the panda house. The big one. The grand finale. You can probably see where this is going. 

In the panda house, there was exactly one panda happily munching bamboo behind glass. That was it. From the advertising, I'd expected an entire valley of them like in the third Kung Fu Panda movie. Or at least two of them. Nope. Just the one. And watching it eat was only interesting for about three minutes. At least the building had AC. At this point, I gave up.

I have to say the National Zoo was a huge disappointment. You'd think that, as the NATIONAL zoo of the USA, it would be the best. It would set the standard and make all the other zoos jealous. But really? It was small and uninspiring. It would have been dull even if all the animals had been front and center dancing with little top hats and canes. I trudged back to the flat for my second shower of the day.

The rest of the evening, I caught up on my reading. It was an unfortunately lackluster day.

The biggest problem was the horrifying heat. I'm from Michigan, and I'm used to summer scorchers, but this was another level entirely. It was my own fault, I suppose--everyone knows DC in July is a misery. But the heat was compounded by everything being closed or under renovation. 

Or blocked off.

Well, tomorrow was the Big Day--my own passport application. I gathered up the papers I'd need, mapped out my route, and worked out how long it would take to get there. With that small accomplishment behind me, I went to bed.