It’s rare that I find myself in epicurean Washington,
let alone socialite Washington. I try to stay out of Georgetown and off Embassy Row,
but today,
I went out to the Races. Taking the Toll Road west of the city to its end in Leesburg,
VA and up to Morven Park Equestrian Center for the 26th running of the Morven Park Steeplechase,
which is like Gold Cup,
only without idiots in popped collars trying not to look like douchebags,
and without the bizarro hat obsession that seems to follow that rite of spring. The weather was perfect,
sunny,
warm,
crisp and autumnal,
and the park itself was splendid,
a course along some rolling terrain with a perfectly manicured track and several amazingly cool horse jumps.
We walked up to the Hospitality Hill where tents were set up for various sponsors,
all overlooking the race course in its entirety. What a way to watch the races. We could see the entire of the course,
which you couldn’t do from rail-side,
and the experience was just amazing. The horses would glide by,
making graceful leaps over the jumps,
and make the turns in beautiful curves. While sipping some Oban,
I made a few wagers on the horses,
none of which panned out. Tiff’s sole pick came out victorious though,
netting us a whole $5. It was early,
still. The food good,
and the company well-dressed and well-learned. It was a grand day,
full of good weather,
better booze,
and catered cuisine. Leaving the races,
we drove back in,
stuffed and sated. So,
this is the sport of Kings. Excellent.
We met our friends Dave,
Jason and Beth in Georgetown for dinner,
completing my day of upper class excess in the city. We parked in our secret hidden space (what,
I can’t have a few secrets? If I told you where I could almost always park in that neighborhood notorious for parking problems,
I wouldn’t get to park there anymore!) and wandered the crowded streets with spare sidewalks. Past the superlative restaurants and upscale grocery/deli,
to the store you can smell from a block away,
and back past my favorite Piano bar. Pictures are downloading from my camera still,
or I would share a few,
but it was a good night,
and a rare one for me.
I am not a formal man,
nor do I dress with expensive style and aplomb. This town has so many places where the dress code is above my usual jeans and a polo shirt,
as evidenced by the Tabaq Dress Code Debacle seen on DCist earlier this week. I like places where the pretention isn’t the atmosphere,
which I suppose just reinforces that I am a West Coast Guy living smack in the middle of the East Coast. But sometimes,
just sometimes,
it’s okay to put your khakis back on for the weekend and rub elbows with the upper class. Even if I wish I was playing disc golf.
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs
I live and work in the District of Columbia. I write at We Love DC, a blog I helped start, I work at Technolutionary, a company I helped start, and I’m happy doing both. I enjoy watching baseball, cooking, and gardening. I grow a mean pepper, keep a clean scorebook, and wash the dishes when I’m done. Read Why I Love DC.
