2/16/2012, after Hougan recommended a D.C. restaurant
Let me explain what happened, how events unfolded, action by action, so that you can fully understand how things ended up.
I had every intention of taking my sister to Two Amys. I left Philadelphia with my nose turned up at all the corner pizza shops (what is NYPD pizza doing in Philly, anyway?) thinking about certified pizza and olives. I read Murakami on the bus and made it to D.C. around 1:00pm. I ate a light lunch at Union Station and decided I'd better visit museums before checking into the hotel.
I love the DC Metro. It makes so much more sense than Philadelphia's antiquated nonsense system. Very Future City. So, I was off, listening to my footsteps as I am never able to in my home city. I remembered as I exited the Metro at Judiciary not to take the stairs. After a long escalator ride, I emerged. The weather was mild, though cold, good walking conditions and I headed towards the mall, which was under construction, very dismal.
I had a list of exhibits I was interested in. First, the American Indian museum where they were having an interactive exhibit on the ground floor about chocolate (though I hate chocolate). I took in an exhibit half about a Native American group with wolf mythology creation stories and half about the Twilight series which describes this tribe as werewolves. As I emptied my pockets to go through the metal detector, the security guard inquired after my subway tokens saying, "what kind of coin is THAT?" assuming it was some kind of foreign currency and I had to explain that we still use silly old tokens.
After that, a sudden violent snowstorm drove me into the Natural History Museum where I then waded through unruly children as I tried desperately to locate the African Voices Gallery (it still baffles me that 1st Floor and Ground Floor are not synonymous. I mean, even if you choose to have a Ground Floor instead of a 1st Floor, the 2nd story still is still the 2nd Floor, right? So what happens when you have both a Ground Floor and a 1st Floor? I will tell you what. I walk around confused, wandering into deserted areas and bathrooms) so I could look at photos by a Congolese artist. I really feel that children do not like museums because museums do not like them, even one as geared towards family fun as The Natural History Museum. You have to be just the right kind of child at the right age. So I was mentally cursing them, thinking things like, "just move! just move in a predictable manner! a straight line! just go somewhere! don't just dart out in front of me and do something weird!". When I finally got out of there I witnessed an accident I'm pretty convinced I made happen with my mind. A small boy somehow got his leg stuck in a recycling bin. It isn't really his fault, he was just applying the same investigative mindset encouraged inside the museum to the outside world. But he must have climbed up onto the bin and carefully inserted his leg into the hole made for soda cans, where it got stuck. The whole thing, bin and boy, thudded to the ground and he wailed out, "Oh my god, it hurts!" over and over again. Tourists turned round for a mile, he was crying out so loudly. It was fun to watch the Japanese and French tourists discuss the scene in their native tongues. He was fine, though, other than having experienced pain unequaled thus far in his short life, and hopefully learning a valuable lesson about the difference between aluminum and legs.
From there the American History Museum, which had some very interesting displays with various vintage items and American ephemera including the Warner Bros telephone (a huge W in the middle), and Warner's handwritten address book open to the D's (Demille, Cecil and Disney, Walt were highlights). I tried to visit the American Art Museum but grew extremely tired on the way there and retired to the opulent Omni-Shoreham Hotel (pink ceilings!) and passed out immediately. My sister finished her medical conference, went to our (it was now our) room and woke me very gently. She said, "Allison, we're going to eat at the Two Amys just the two of us, but first I just need to put in an appearance at the dinner that the conference participants are going to, have them meet you, and then we can escape to the Two Amys. But I do need to introduce you to some people. Is that ok?" to which I replied, "I'm wearing a kimono. Is that ok?" to which she replied, "Are you serious?" to which I said, "Yes".
So we went to the restaurant (very nice, but uninteresting) and sat down at the table. The plan shifted to drinks and appetizers at that restaurant and then on to the Two Amys. The moment we sat down we were greeted with two plates filled with sushi. Some very interesting acronym people joined our table and I found all of them very charming for one reason or another. No one minded that I wore a kimono to a restaurant that served sushi. My sister and I schmoozed and made jokes that only we found amusing (there was knee squeezing under the table) and we realized the conference intended to pay for my sis and I to both enjoy three course meals. The plan shifted to a late night snack at Amys with morning leftovers. After a few glasses of wine, the plan evaporated.
It turned out the CPAC was having their convention in the Omni as well. We learned this after my sister's friend/associate Annie Laurie began talking to some teenagers who were camped out in the lobby. She returned to us saying, "I can talk to anyone!" and informing us that a Republican donor paid for these teenagers to attend CPAC. Sarah Palin, right in our hotel, right under our noses, close enough to have garroted! Unbelievable!
To make a long story short (way too late!) I set out for the Two Amys the next morning. I felt I needed to avenge someone (you? my dad? my hunger?) by eating that pizza. So I took a brunch bound bus. A line had already formed at the Amys and they were very serious about not opening the doors until it was officially noon. I had a bus to catch in an hour so I made sure that though I wasn't the first admitted, I was the first to order. My waitress was very happy with our arrangement, though they usually don't care for lone wolves like me, because I would eat fast and pay fast. I had an AMAZING eggplant and basil pizza all to myself. First one out of the oven. It was heaven. I ate it, had satisfaction, congratulated myself for my time efficiency and caught a cab.
Well, I missed my bus. But it wasn't the pizza's fault. The pizza was faultless.
One Dobkin. Two Amys. 11 different kinds of delicious.
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