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| Only an idiot would have taken a photo of the rain. The tuna steak will have to do. |
Pride goeth before a fall. And a dowsing.
Yes, writing the headline for Tuesday's blog, "Uber is for the weak," I paused. Was this not hypocritical? I did sometimes take Uber. And preening? Still, it's a headline. It's supposed to provoke, draw the reader in. Sure, I could water it down. But no. If you've going to take Vienna, take Vienna.
The watering down was coming.
Dinner on Wednesday was at 7 p.m. — solo, I was meeting a pal, an old college roommate at Hamilton's, a happening 14th St. eatery. His pick. Rain was forecast, sure, so I had an umbrella in hand. It was a $33 Uber ride — the price doubled, because of the rain.
Dinner on Wednesday was at 7 p.m. — solo, I was meeting a pal, an old college roommate at Hamilton's, a happening 14th St. eatery. His pick. Rain was forecast, sure, so I had an umbrella in hand. It was a $33 Uber ride — the price doubled, because of the rain.
Or a 30 minute walk. I had the time...
There was a light rain, yes. Nothing to deter a hardy soul such as myself. Certainly walkable. Build up an appetite. I strode off confidently into the sprinkling twilight.
For about 30 seconds. The rain immediately picked up. I angled the umbrella toward it, increased my pace. Suddenly, the sky burst into one of those downpours that comes in sheets. Cinematic rain. It looked fake, only it wasn't. I took refuge under a trestle. "This is a bad idea," I thought, soddenly. I couldn't call for an Uber there — a blind highway curve where no sane car could stop. The rain rained.
Nothing to do but go forward. The wind picked up. The rain somehow increased. Buckets. Firehose blasts. The umbrella turned inside out and was useless anyway. The rain seemed to be coming from all directions at once.
Drenched to the bone. Soaked. No way I could sit in an elegant restaurant like this. I turned back, fought my way back to my kid's place, a drowned rat. Slunk back, ten minutes after I'd left. Emptied my pockets — my wallet was a damp slab of wet leather. Toweled off, put on a fresh set of clothes. Called my friend — he'd taken the subway and found refuge in a doorway a block from the restaurant. Birds of a feather...
Ten minutes later I was downstairs, getting into an Uber, a service which I now ululate and praise. Cool, dry. All hail ride shares, savior of the rainy day. I got to Hamilton's at 7:15, only 15 minutes late despite everything.
Hamilton's was jumping for a rainy Wednesday night. We were seated in a large, gorgeous paneled room. Big Audobon prints of birds lined the corridors to the restrooms. We ate for two hours, talked, laughed, reminisced about old times, past restaurants — the great Lion D'Or, a Washington institution back when French cuisine was king.
Shortly before 10 we headed out into the night. The rain had stopped, the night, cooler. I walked my friend to his subway station, then headed over to the Metro center and caught a silver train to L'Enfant Plaza then walked the last 10 minutes. I'm still a fan of public transportation, but you have to be smart about it. Check the weather forecast. Sometimes bringing an umbrella is not enough.
There was a light rain, yes. Nothing to deter a hardy soul such as myself. Certainly walkable. Build up an appetite. I strode off confidently into the sprinkling twilight.
For about 30 seconds. The rain immediately picked up. I angled the umbrella toward it, increased my pace. Suddenly, the sky burst into one of those downpours that comes in sheets. Cinematic rain. It looked fake, only it wasn't. I took refuge under a trestle. "This is a bad idea," I thought, soddenly. I couldn't call for an Uber there — a blind highway curve where no sane car could stop. The rain rained.
Nothing to do but go forward. The wind picked up. The rain somehow increased. Buckets. Firehose blasts. The umbrella turned inside out and was useless anyway. The rain seemed to be coming from all directions at once.
Drenched to the bone. Soaked. No way I could sit in an elegant restaurant like this. I turned back, fought my way back to my kid's place, a drowned rat. Slunk back, ten minutes after I'd left. Emptied my pockets — my wallet was a damp slab of wet leather. Toweled off, put on a fresh set of clothes. Called my friend — he'd taken the subway and found refuge in a doorway a block from the restaurant. Birds of a feather...
Ten minutes later I was downstairs, getting into an Uber, a service which I now ululate and praise. Cool, dry. All hail ride shares, savior of the rainy day. I got to Hamilton's at 7:15, only 15 minutes late despite everything.
Hamilton's was jumping for a rainy Wednesday night. We were seated in a large, gorgeous paneled room. Big Audobon prints of birds lined the corridors to the restrooms. We ate for two hours, talked, laughed, reminisced about old times, past restaurants — the great Lion D'Or, a Washington institution back when French cuisine was king.
Shortly before 10 we headed out into the night. The rain had stopped, the night, cooler. I walked my friend to his subway station, then headed over to the Metro center and caught a silver train to L'Enfant Plaza then walked the last 10 minutes. I'm still a fan of public transportation, but you have to be smart about it. Check the weather forecast. Sometimes bringing an umbrella is not enough.
Home? You’re navigating Washington DC here, no?
ReplyDeleteGood catch. Fixed. Thanks.
DeleteKudos and made for a good posting!
ReplyDelete