By Beauty Damned

The Haps

Nothing like coming to work on a sunny Monday morning, sitting down at your desk with a cup of coffee and looking out the window at one of the alleged top five terror targets in the United States (Citigroup headquarters), which sits directly across the street. Walking from the train was slightly unnerving, as Citicorp is surrounded by news vans, reporters, police officers and civilians. But what can you do?

If someone wants to get on my train with a backpack containing whatever they want, they can. If someone wants to walk into the Citicorp building, they can. We drove over the Verrazano last night and I didn't see so much as an extra police officer. Got on my train this morning and saw nothing unusual. No security at all. No one checked my bag or even scrutinized me as I passed. When I got into my building I flashed my ID as I always do. Nothing unusual going on. No heightened security, at least with respect to the people who work in this building, regardless of the media & security bustle directly across the street. I don't know what measures they're taking with visitors. And really, what is the difference? If someone wants to blow something up in this city, they will. Ain't nothin we can do about it muthafuckas, might as well have a seat and eat some muthafuckin candy.
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We got to Maryland late Friday night, visited a creepy diner in Bethesda - the only thing open - before hitting our fresh hotel beds. Went and saw the Pentagon in Arlington on Saturday morning and then to work for a few hours. After work we were anxious to go swimming in the big indoor/outdoor pool and even spent a little while in the jacuzzi. After a quick rest, we were out on the town. That's when we drove to D.C. and took in the sights. It was everything I'd imagined and much more.

So it was my first visit to Washington, D.C. I felt like a little kid, staring out the window, pointing at things and saying "wow" over and over again. We saw the White House and Cheney's crib (or more specifically, the massive, seemingly endless gate that surrounds his property, the size of which borders on vulgarity). We passed by many incredible landmarks, embassies...the Indian embassy was stunning. I got excited as we passed the United States Court of Appeals and the federal Bar Association. (Evidence that I've been in the legal field for too long). And we saw so many Starbucks that we lost count...people must really need their caffeine in that town.

I was amazed by all the beautiful architecture and historical monuments and the lights and shops and all the-all the-all the pretty things. I was also struck that we were driving through areas that simply wreaked of wealth and privilege, but only a moment later we saw at least five homeless men sleeping on one block. That's not to say that we don't have many, many homeless people here in NY, because god knows we do, but it seems rare to be driving down the street in midtown Manhattan and see five or six homeless men sleeping on benches and in corners all on the same block. Maybe it's easier to hide or "disappear" in NY. A few moments later we were in a ghetto, which, though comparable to the ghettos here in NY, seemed a little bit less bleak - I'm sure there are those who would dispute that. It was only a first impression on a Saturday night. I don't know what it's really like. All in all, I imagine the homeless count and prevalence of poverty is probably similar in both places.

After driving a little while more, our jaws dropped to the floor at the site of some of the largest mansions imagineable. I grew up for many years in California, and I have seen mansions in Beverly Hills, Bel Air, the Palisades, Malibu and beyond, but it's been awhile since I've seen any houses that looked like those. Huge, gorgeous houses, one after another, sprawling lawns, high walls and fancy gates and entrance ways. As Tanya so appropriately put it at the time, "holy shit. That's whoa." Living in Brooklyn, you just don't see that kind of thing very often. I was happy to see a few "Re-Defeat Bush" signs on the front lawns of some of those sprawling abodes. That put a smile on my face.

I ordered breakfast in bed to arrive on Sunday morning. It was the perfect way to end our stay. I love room service. It's such a treat. Mostly because of the way they bring it to you on the big tray with all the fun condiments and little salt & pepper shakers and anything else you could possibly need, and then you get to sit on your crisp hotel sheets and eat like a prince and princess while watching tv. This is obviously a continuing manifestation of my childhood glamorization of the very idea of room service. It's one of those things. When you travel as a child with your parents you always ask, can you please order room service. They say "no honey, it's too expensive. We're going to find a place around town." You don't bother to argue or beg because it's not your style, so you just go along and enjoy whatever you get. It was never a very big deal, but you store away that desire inside. And then when you become an adult, you are compelled to waste money on things that you dreamed of having as a child but could never afford or find a way to fenagle. Honestly though, I never do order room service when I stay in hotels. Kat's mom ordered us a huge breakfast spread last time we were in Vegas, but I generally don't bother, most specifically because I fear the food will be awful and I will be disappointed to have spent so much dough. Luckily, the food at our hotel in Bethesda was exceptional and the coffee was heavenly. It was worth every red cent and we were both happy as could be.

On the way home we stopped in Philly for dinner. That was the end of our trip. A couple of drinks and some good food on the waterfront in Philadelphia before heading back to Brooklyn. As we drove over the Verrazano I felt a little relieved. No matter how much fun you have when you're away, it's always a good feeling to come home. We drove Rob and Tanya to Bushwick and as we looked out the windows from the BQE at the Manhattan skyline, we all let out a little bit of a sigh. After awhile I said, "there's no place like NY." And everyone heartily agreed.

Posted by Maria at August 2, 2004 10:39 AM