What To Do In Washington, D.C., When Your Flight Home Is Cancelled?
In September, I was in Washington, DC, and I had a Sunday evening flight on Southwest Airlines back to Houston. I was packing my things at the hotel to check out at noon when my wife, Lisa, called to inform me that my flight had been cancelled. Luckily, she secured my same hotel room for another night. My flight had been rescheduled for the next day, Monday, to Atlanta with a connection to Houston. Now, what to do on a Sunday afternoon in our nation’s capital?
One option was to see the Dodgers play the Nationals. It is always fun to see a ball park for the first time but the weather report was not very encouraging so I eliminated that.
Having already visited most of the government buildings, concert halls, museums, etc., I suddenly felt an urge to find some bars that I had not been to and immediately got on the Internet and came up with a plan. I figured that each of these places had stories to tell, perhaps even lies, as can often be the case, especially in old bars in old cities. It was a free afternoon so what the heck!
My first was going to be Martin’s Tavern in Georgetown. Written up as the “oldest bar in DC” it looked promising. Other places included The Dubliner on F Street, known for its immense selection of beers, a place named the Jack Rose on 18th Street, itself known for its considerable whiskey selections. These three establishments would be new to me.
The last time I was in town I found an unusual place, Shelly’s Backroom, a smoking bar and restaurant near the White House. I decided to return. Another classic bar that I had been to some 40+ years ago was Clyde’s in Georgetown. This was to be for a cheeseburger dinner.
So, “drop the red bandana and let the games begin!”
It was just a little past noon as I entered Martin’s and had to go to the end of the extensive bar to find the only single seat available. There was a man on my right quietly drinking and two men on my left who were drinking but far from quietly. The man immediately to my left was certainly in no condition to drive, much less keep his head above the bar (remember, it was just minutes past noon on a Sunday). Next to him was a man who I will simply refer to as Mr Brahms. Full head of grayish white hair and a huge white beard, the more gregarious of the two, actually not too difficult to accomplish since the man on my left was definitely in peril.
Then the stories began. Mr Brahms explained that he had been assaulted in Los Angeles a couple of years ago and had survived a stabbing. He had particularly nasty cuts on his upper and lower lips that were now covered by his moustache and beard. Now that is a good opener.
The man on my right asked for his check and proceeded to tell me in a somewhat hushed voice that Martin’s used to be a favorite drinking joint of both John F Kennedy and Richard Nixon in the 1950’s. He also, touching my arm and lowering his voice even more to a somewhat personal and, shall I say, reverent tone, said, “that booth over there was where JFK proposed to Jackie.” Now THAT was impressive. “Not necessarily so,” protested Mr Brahms. “Urban legend!” he barked. Wow, this was getting interesting. Mr Brahms then went on to tell me that his father had received his draft notice in 1954 right there at the bar! The tales were now in full force. I tend to believe people so it sounded genuine to me but I was left pondering the JFK/Jackie booth story. Upon later looking up Martin’s on the indisputably historical Internet site of authenticity, Wikipedia, I found that every president from Truman to W had been in Martin’s. It probably needs an update. It also stated that on June 24, 1953, one US Representative John Fitzberald Kennedy proposed to one Jacquline Lee Bouvier. So there, Mr Brahms!
As to Martin’s Tavern being the oldest bar in DC, if you look at the small print, it is the oldest family-owned restaurant in DC, founded 90 years ago in 1933 by a former baseball player for the Boston Braves, William Gloyd Martin, “Billy” Martin, but not the Billy Martin that we are familiar with. I also did some modest research on Billy and found that he played one game on October 6, 1914, when he was 20 years old and was 0 for 3. That was his entire career. His great grandson, yet another Billy Martin, owns the place.
Mr Brahms recommended that I should go next to The Old Ebbitt Grill. Lisa and I had been there several years ago and the place had not changed a bit. The bar napkins state “Since 1856” which naturally brings doubt in my mind as to any kind of historical accuracy in this town. There are several animal heads above the massive bar, deer, boars, elk, pheasants, exotic game from Africa, etc. Ebbitt’s own urban legend has it that they were all shot by Teddy Roosevelt – I wonder. The Uber driver who picked me up on my way to my next stop confided to me, again in that low, hushed, “I am telling you a secret” voice that ALL of the plans for the Iraq War were hatched right there at the Ebbitt. Hmmmm. It turns out that Oliver North had meetings there to discuss the Iran/Contra affair of the Reagan years in the 80’s. Who knows?
Next was the smoking bar, Shelly’s Backroom. It is still beautifully run by a lovely Vietnamese family. I went to the bar and ordered an IPA and got out an old corn cob pipe and lit it to see if I could get a reaction. I asked the bartender, “I will bet that you don’t see too many corn cob pipes in here.” He blandly responded, “Actually, about twenty minutes ago!” As you can see in the photograph, it is adorned with American flag bunting. I just love such examples of successful immigration in our country.
Then it was back to the hotel for some relaxing before Clyde’s for dinner. The Dubliner and Jack Rose would have to wait until the next visit.
Arriving at Clyde’s I found a seat at the bar near the door. A couple of gents were next to me, Tom and his son, Joey. I will just say that Tom reminded me of the man next to Mr Brahms at Martin’s if you follow my drift. After sharing some jokes and lines unprintable here, I asked Tom about the oft-told rumor of Clyde’s being a hangout for Cold War and present-day intrigue, spies and, in general, serious espionage. He immediately appeared as sober as a judge, stood up and simply said, “I cannot talk about that!” Without hesitation, he asked for his check. As he and Joey were leaving, however, Tom turned back to me and said, “You should go to Martin’s Tavern – I don’t know if it is true or not, but I heard a rumor that that’s where JFK proposed to Jackie!”
A final observation of Washington, D.C.
As I entered Reagan National for my flights home, I observed some very loud commotion. There were scores of yellow-shirted folks and probably more wheelchairs than I have ever seen. A volunteer group that I had never heard of, Honor Flight Network, was escorting veterans of the Second World War and the Korean War from Minnesota. They arrived after having been flown, free of charge, to take a bus tour of Washington, D.C. including being taken to their respective war memorial sites. Later that afternoon they would be flown back to Minnesota. Honor Flight Network is represented in every state and does this all year long. The next day might be Texas or Michigan or any other state. The crowds in the airport were giving the vets cheers, salutes, high fives. In a word, wonderful.
A final, final thought – there were no remarkable vodka martini’s in DC, alas. The search will continue. And to complete the final thought, some readers asked for specific information as to the hotel where I had the perfect vodka martini in Verona, Italy last summer. Here it is –
Due Torri Hotel
Via Quattro Stagioni
11 VERONA