DC After Dark

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If DC in the daytime has been eerily lacking in throngs of tourists, nighttime is downright spooky. If I believed in ghosts, my stroll along the National Mall after sunset would’ve been filled with fear or, perhaps, reverence. As it was, though, my only (visible) companions were the ducks at the Reflecting Pool until I got to the Lincoln Memorial. Even then, the small group of students loitering and posing at the top of the steps to the Memorial were positively tame. Global pandemics and the specter of authoritarianism will do that to you.

But that was the end of my day. What about the rest of it?

I parked my car at my hotel when I got to DC because the key fell apart on the way up here, and my duct-tape job feels rather precarious. I don’t want to risk it falling apart permanently and stranding me up here. Nor do I want to pay exorbitant parking fees. So the DC Metro has become a great friend. Seldom have I needed to walk far to get to a subway stop. But my current project presented a new problem. I don’t know if it’s a normal thing for the DC Metro, but they have been shutting down rather early during the time of Covid. As in around 9:00 PM. Since I'd been wanting to get some night photography in before I left town in the morning, it meant I would be stranded on the National Mall when I finished. Cue my first-ever ridesharing experience. It wasn't so bad, and much better than walking all the way back to my hotel. I even got a driver who didn’t want to talk to me the whole time, and I certainly appreciate that.

Let’s take the rest of this blog post in chapters, shall we? Perhaps in reverse chronological order. Because why not?

Chapter 1

My very last thing in DC was walking from the Capitol to the Lincoln Memorial after dark. I really wasn’t sure what to expect. I had camped out on the National Mall after dinner, hoping to get some good sunset pictures, maybe with the National Phallus at the center. But while I was waiting, I took advantage of the amazing wi-fi (which probably isn’t so amazing when the normal amount of tourists are here, trying to connect to it) to notice that some people had some great shots of sunset from the other side of the Capitol. So I relocated.

Only too late did I realize that those beautiful shots of the Capitol at sunset were taken from someplace other than ground level in front of the building. Probably from the roof of the building across the street. Alas. I got some crummy pics of the Capitol at various stages of (twi)light, but the sun doesn’t appear in any of them.

That was only going to be the first step, so I proceeded around to the other side of the Capitol (where dummies would gather to invade and insurrect about 6 months later). There’s a great statue of Ulysses S Grant on horseback at the bottom, just in front of the first pool on the National Mall. It’s one of my favorite views from the opening credits of Netflix’s House of Cards, so I wanted to get that view for sure. What I also found out as I swatted away a gazillion gnats is that bodies of water in the summer, when subjected to extreme heat in the day, attract and produce large numbers of airborne pests. So I got out of that area as quickly as possible.

The rest of the stroll down the National Mall toward the Lincoln Memorial was much the same as it was yesterday morning, just without sunlight and, remarkably, even fewer human beings.

It’s hard to miss the Washington Phallus with all the searchlights pointing to the tip top. Beyond that, the World War II monument is ablaze, with the large fountain at the center and the gold stars twinkling on the walls, reflecting all that artificial light. As I said yesterday, the long Reflecting Pool between there and the Lincoln Memorial was lackluster at best. I did see a few ducks perched along the edge of the Pool, but more unwanted insects were buzzing around, with less light than other places. Swarms were more difficult to detect until I felt them, at which point it’s too late to avoid them.

The Lincoln Memorial felt a bit more majestic in the dark, honestly. Few people were wandering about inside the Memorial. A school group, maybe 30 strong, had gathered at the top of the stairs, most likely waiting for a group photo. They kept to themselves as I meandered around again, stopping to appreciate the illuminated Mall from this vantage point. Perhaps with a better-quality camera, I could’ve given my readers some better photos of that view.

Chapter 2

I definitely enjoyed having a clean and dependable public transportation service to get me where I needed to go. The morning rides were virtually empty, at least by the time I got on there (on vacation, I don’t set an alarm unless I’ve got something that absolutely needs to be done at a certain early time). The mask mandate—both inside the city and posted on all train cars and in all stations—appeared to be hit and miss for some people. Maybe they think they’re special?

My afternoon trip was a bit more eventful. More people means more chances of something happening. For my trip, that 'something' happened to be a needy lady who felt that we were intimate enough to critique my outfit before beginning her sales pitch.

“That your corona look?” was her opening salvo.

I laughed, thinking she was only joking. My red UGA boonie hat isn’t the normal attire for a tourist, but I had seen the forecast before I left my house and knew how brutal the sun can be on my face and ears. In other places, my choice of hat has been complimented, even envied.

“I’m impressed,” she replied to my laugh. Maybe I had got her all wrong.

Nope.

“Can I ask you a question?” She leaned forward, indicating I should do the same. I complied.

“I’m just trying to find money for me and my two daughters…”

Great. Do I look like a sucker? Or that I even carry cash anymore? Since I was leaving town in the morning and didn’t really have a need for all the change I had collected, I gave it to her. I think it ended up being about $8, once I added a few singles to the pile. It was all I had. Did she really need it? No clue, but I know my life hasn’t been impacted negatively by giving it to her.

“God bless you!” she said as the train began to slow for the next stop.

She stood up and looked back at me. “Donate that hat.” Then she walked out of the train car.

That’s gratitude. Maybe she thought she was being helpful? I mean, she was the one wearing a facemask of the American flag.

Chapter 3

Most of my afternoon was spent on U Street, a hub of African American culture in the District. All I gotta say is it was ridiculously hot. I’m glad I was wearing that hat all day, lady. I stopped for lunch at Ben’s Chili Bowl, which is basically a MUST if you’re in town and want a taste of the local contributions to American culinary arts. Their “half-smoke” is well known, and it didn’t disappoint—a large sausage, smoked before it’s grilled, and on a toasted bun with all the fixin’s you want. So good. There wasn’t much room to eat inside, what with Covid restrictions and all, so I took mine to go. I found a plant box to use as a stool, and I enjoyed my messy yumminess while I watched the pedestrians walking past. It was also a good time to take stock of all the street art. Sometimes, I just want to sit in one place and try to notice all the things that I would miss if I walked by at my normal pace. This area didn’t disappoint. Neither did the food.

Next I walked over to Howard University. It wasn’t really all that far, but the heat made every step feel like ten. Plus it was uphill from where I had been, so by the time I got to the campus, I was ready for a nap. I didn’t get one, but I did find a huge tree on the quad, with some benches underneath it, and I stretched out for a siesta. The view of the library was especially pleasant, as was the cool breeze I felt in the shade of that tree. It was another place with few human beings around, so my introverted self soaked in the solitude before heading back to the sun-drenched, well-peopled areas of the capital.

I took another Metro train to near the White House (or as near as you can get, thanks to the fortress that’s been erected for several blocks around it). My goal was another eatery (yes, I like to eat) called GCDC, or Grilled Cheese of DC. I was more thirsty than hungry, honestly. One thing I didn’t have a thirst for, however, was conspiracy theories. But in the time of Trump—the time of post-truth—it’s hard to go far without being accosted by them. Or by those insistent upon accosting you with them. That was me, in a crosswalk, minding my own business, when a stranger, maybe in his 40s, approached me and began asking what I knew about Trump and Ivanka’s involvement with human trafficking and murder shows. I can only say “I don’t know” and “I’ve never heard about that” so many times before my blood pressure rises. After a block of this guy tagging along, I waved adios and walked across the street. I’m glad I did at that point, because he kept walking the same direction as me, on the opposite side of the street, for several blocks. Then he turned and walked toward the White House. I’m sure the FBI was listening in, since we started our conversation right as we passed an FBI building. Consider the experience my undercover work for the day, FBI.

I made it to GCDC and—surprise—turned out to be the only client the entire time I was there. Outdoor seating, usual in the time of Covid, wasn’t really all that great. The grilled cheese was scrumptious, and the cold drink even better. Not much else to say about it. The sun was starting to get low, so I began making my way to the Capitol after I finished.

Chapter 4

My final full day in DC began with a trip to Embassy Row. I’m a sucker for good architecture, so I knew I wanted to check this out while I was in town. Frankly, I was a bit underwhelmed. I took the Metro to Dupont Circle and then headed northwest from there, up Massachusetts Avenue. The embassies that made the biggest impressions were India, Indonesia, Turkey, South Korea, and Latvia. All of them for distinct reasons: India for the Gandhi statue and the party going on outside; Indonesia for its ostentatious sculptures; Turkey for its brazen propaganda; South Korea for their kowtowing; and Latvia for their wonderful message to introverts/readers.

I didn’t walk all the way down the road, primarily because my feet were hurting and I didn’t want to spend my whole day here. So I stopped before I crossed the river, which turned out to be just past the Islamic Center. Now THAT was something to behold. The minaret dwarfs everything around it, so it’s like a beacon if you get lost.

Back at Dupont Circle, I walked up to Kramer’s, a famous bookstore in the area. Their selection was nice, but the café was closed. I had been looking forward to some caffeine to get my day started. Now I was going to have to pop into some chain restaurant for it.

Epilogue

By the time my Lyft driver dropped me off at my hotel, I was ready for bed. The 9-plus hour drive back home was going to be an adventure, due to my key issues in the car. It would take some luck, if I was planning on stopping for any reasons. So I wanted to be well rested before I made the trip back.

But after walking more in a single day than I had since the Covid pandemic began, my feet were looking forward to a day of sitting down, even if it was going to be on such a long drive.

I covered a lot of ground—literally—during my two days in DC during the time of Covid. Fewer tourists meant more of the monuments to myself, but it also meant that the museums were closed. It was the perfect time to visit, if you’re an architecture fan. I’m glad I took the opportunity to do it.

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