On the way to visiting my mother in Leesburg, VA recently, I discovered I had arrived a little early and decided to have lunch by myself at Emilio's in Lansdowne, a "village" development on the outskirts of Leesburg. Feeling like one of the Real Housewives -- who always seem to be eating out in brand new restaurants with trendy Italian or similar themes in brand new buildings -- I sat down and ordered a coffee and a pizza. It was a thin crust, the kind I like, and layered with thinly sliced zucchini, red bell pepper strips, some black olive slices and cheese. Not a tomato in sight! Well, it tasted fine except there was a faint odor of the cooking gas underneath the flavors, which is something I really don't like. But the service was very good and the waiter quite professional and friendly, so I didn't really have much to complain about except that gassy taste which is significant in my opinion. You really shouldn't be able to taste the cooking fuel unless it's hickory smoked or something. So, I found myself contrasting this restaurant with downtown DC restaurants. One, there really aren't pizza restaurants in downtown DC. There's a pizza van, but not a restaurant. Two, I was the only customer at 12 noon, although several others came in later to fill about 4 tables of the 20 tables they had. Everyone was white, or seemed to be anyway in this location although I think I did espy one Black person in a car driving by. A typical DC downtown daytime restaurant is usually very busy with most of the tables filled. Three, I parked my car in the street right outside the restaurant. That is highly unlikely in DC, to say the least, where just a couple of hours parking can cost $10 at least. Then, the other patrons were not what you see in DC restaurants at lunch time which are suited men and women, or otherwise dressed in office smart clothing, with a high proportion of "single" people it often seems. In Emilio's was a grouping of suburban ladies in baggy blue jeans and pants, loose tops and anorak coats, and none of whom seemed to have combed their hair or put on any makeup or jewelry that day. They were gaily ordering a pizza and salads and beers and just didn't look like DC lunchtime restaurant patrons. The other table was an older couple, a man and a woman, who seemed to be staring vacantly out the window in between eating their chicken salads. Not really lunchtime patrons in downtown DC either.I'm not sure where I'm going with this commentary other than to say I enjoy living in the city, which is much more bustling and diverse than are the far exurbs and where pizza either comes delivered to your door or you buy it off a truck.
I have to admit that every time I have a meeting on Capitol Hill in some office in one of the House or Senate or Capitol buildings, I get a bit of a thrill walking up the stone steps, or tramping through the marble halls, looking up at the ceiling, noting the gilded murals, or even going through security and getting lost in the corridors. Any one of hundreds of famous worthies have surely stepped on the same stairs, passed through the same passages, made their case or argument, and spoken a million important words ahead of me. A fun part is sitting in some Member's office waiting my turn and sometimes being given popcorn, or chocolate candy bars, or peanuts, or iced water that some offices give out to guests. Even if the meeting doesn't go that well -- you know some staffers just don't seem to listen, or some Members are not available for very long -- just being in such a significant place affects me greatly. I sometimes joke that "I'm just a girl from a village in the old country and here I am in one of the most powerful places on the planet." But you know, it's no joke!
