I used to say that I have a love-hate relationship with Georgetown- it sucks to try to get there, but it’s cool once you’re walking around.
So I headed down there today for my quarterly trip to Lush for restocking, slid into my super-sekrit rockstar parking space, and as I walked the several blocks down M Street to my destination, I realized something.
Forget love-hate. I hate Georgetown. It’s sacrilege to say so, I realize, but hear me out.
First there’s the aforementioned hassles of getting there. Traffic to turn on to M St. is routinely backed up into Rosslyn across the Key Bridge. There are buses, which always seem to break down on Water St. anyway, but no Metro. Parking is a complete bitch. The streets are narrow, the corners are blind, and dudes, there’s a reason humanity gave up cobblestones as a means of paving its infrastructure. They suck.
Once you’re out of your transportation of choice and walking around, the situation is little better. The sidewalks are narrow, and full of fashion victims in their Ugg boots who think nothing of stopping abruptly to talk to some other couple, causing you to trip over them as they take up the ENTIRE SIDEWALK as you try to sneak through their little knot of pedestrian-congestion.
And when you’re done fighting the crowds and have arrived at your destination, what is it? An overhyped eatery pushing the food fad of the day to the 47 people in line ahead of you? A store whose sales depend on your paranoia that their mannequins are SO much more super-fabulous than you? God forbid, the City Tavern Club? (How many times do I have to tell you guys to stop sending me emails? I’m not going to pay $800 a year to be your friend!)
I’m sure Georgetown has its charms, but I’m just not seeing them. Except for Lush. That’s different.
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs
Tiffany Baxendell Bridge is an Internet enthusiast and an incurable smartass. When not heckling the neighborhood political scene on Twitter, she can be found goofing off with her ukulele, Bollywood dancing, or obsessing about cult TV. She is That Woman With the Baby In the Bar.
Tiffany lives in Brookland with her husband Tom, son Charlie, and two high-maintenance cats. Read why Tiffany loves DC.
