For the past four days, I’ve been cheating on New York with Washington D.C. I figure if you’re going to cheat on your favorite city, you might as well do it with the nation’s capitol. I’m not sure what the tipping point was. Maybe it was the suspiciously clean metro system that was free of rats and homeless people. Maybe it was the city’s history that flows down every street (which happen to be laid out alphabetically and numerically, something I can appreciate being the neurotic freak I am). Maybe it was the leisurely pace of the people. Or maybe it was the fact that the Obama’s lived next door.
Just hanging out by Michelle Obama's inauguration dress. You know, the typical Thursday afternoon.
Whatever it was, I fell hard.
And the harder I fell, the guiltier I felt. Whenever I discovered another amazing quality about D.C., I would start spouting off about New York, doing my best to defend the Big Apple. “The rats aren’t that big in New York,” I would say, or “People never walk this slow in New York.” But pretty soon I was drinking the punch and preaching the gospel of the District. Right around the time I was sunbathing on the National Mall, I realized something: Washington D.C. is awesome!
Contemplating becoming a D.C. dweller as I sunbathe on the National Mall.
I devoured the city’s history (and amazing cuisine), played miniature golf in a bar (something New Yorkers would label as touristy or worse, Jersey-ish), drank too many margaritas, took a ton of pictures, listened to street musicians play patriotic tunes, stood in awe of the ornate glory of the Warner Theater as Imogen Heap played an amazing set, and danced Friday night away at Cobalt, one of the many gay clubs in DuPont Circle. By the time I got on my plane back to Ohio, I was already thinking about my next trip.
But as much as I love D.C., New York won my heart four years ago. D.C. may have the nation’s history, but it also has the nation’s tourists. I’d rather deal with Times Square’s throngs of international tourists than face another group of school children visiting D.C. on a class trip. They’re loud, rowdy and rude. Not to mention they were tacky tie dye T-shirts and stop at every street vendor. And that’s another thing: Pick up the pace people! If you want to stop and gawk at the Capitol at least move to the side of the path. The Capitol isn’t going anywhere, but I on the other hand, have things to do.
And as eclectic and diverse as D.C. is, I never ventured out of the Northwest neighborhood. When I asked what the other neighborhoods were like, my friend, Adam, said, “The Northeast is weird and I never go to the south side.” Considering I spent last summer exploring every neighborhood in New York from Harlem to Brooklyn, I was surprised by Adam’s remark. New Yorkers may never leave the island, but at least they leave their neighborhood. Besides, why leave the island when everything is right there?
D.C. is definitely one of the coolest places in the country. I wouldn’t mind living there for a few years either. But there’s really no competition. D.C. may have Tangy Sweet and Red Velvet Cupcakery but they don’t even compare to Pinkberry and Sugar Sweet Sunshine. And let’s be real, DuPont Circle is Chelsea’s younger brother. D.C. is that gorgeous boy I spent an amazing weekend with, but New York is the man I come home to.
Thank you D.C. for a great time. I will always think of you fondly. Just don’t tell New York.
