LET’S TALK : House tour opens eyes, not fridge
Posted on Sunday, July 6, 2008
Note: This is Part Two of a Let’s Talk miniseries on Washington.
Although it was my first trip to D. C., it was the fourth for Dre, a veteran of the historic 1995 Million Man March and its 2005 anniversary event, the Millions More Movement.
Visiting the White House was a first for both of us. We got in on a 9: 30 a.m. White House tour June 18.
Prior to the tour, White House visitors are treated to a fairly long list of the things they can’t bring, along with a one-line list of the things they can bring (keys, wallets, cell phones and, although not specifically mentioned, the clothes on their backs ). The list also included the dire warning that if the name on one’s photo I. D. didn’t match the name one registered, one would be refused a tour.
Reading over the list, I began to suspect we would not have the chance to be stereotypically rude houseguests and go poking our heads in President George W. Bush’s refrigerator.
The tour went smoothly. After checking in, going through security and being given brochures chronicling White House history, our group and others were ushered in. The Secret Service people were friendlier than expected, acting as docents. One guy actually exhibited a sense of humor.
Portraits of presidents and first ladies looked down on us as we filed through, or past, the hot spots of the White House’s first floor: The eclectic-use East Room and the State Dining Room, both smaller than I expected. The Green Room, with furniture made by cabinetmaker Duncan Phyfe. The Blue Room, the site of the only wedding in the White House whose groom was a president (Grover Cleveland ). The Red Room, a first ladies’ favorite. The Diplomatic Reception Room, where Franklin D. Roosevelt delivered his fireside chats. The Vermeil Room, a former billiard room that now showcases the White House’s gilded silver collection. The Map Room and other areas.
All very historic, elegant and don’teven-think-about-touching-ish. And similar to other historic homes I’ve toured in the past. But this was the White House. This was my tax dollars at work.
And I still wondered what the president had in the fridge. Or, as is probably the case, fridges. Any mystery meat ? Any mold-covered glob that could come to life, break free and wreak havoc at any moment ? Any half-eaten pizza ? Any white zinfandel or Kool-Aid ?
And what about The Closet ? The one that’s hidden away somewhere in all showpiece homes ? The one that the hosts don’t want you to see, or open... because all the junk they crammed in there in order to keep the public spaces clean might fall down on top of you ?
Now that’s a White House tour that would be most interesting. The Kitchen. The Closet. The John... the bathroom with the furry toilet seat lid and toothpaste stains on the mirror. The Roach Room... the room White House exterminators can’t keep bug-free despite their best efforts. The Dirty Laundry Room. But I suppose that won’t happen.
Other memorable moments of the trip to the District: A trip to Capitol Hill to visit Arkansas’ U. S. senators Blanche Lincoln and Mark Pryor to chat with them about matters related to the conference I was attending. (Actually, somebody else did all the talking. I was too tongue-tied to do anything but sit there and try to look serious. ) Seeing the buildings housing the various federal agencies, such as the Environmental Protection Agency, the U. S. Supreme Court, the Federal Trade Commission, and the Department of the Treasury. (No, you can’t go to the U. S. Treasury building, knock on the door and ask if they’ll let you “hold” a few dollars until payday. ) The conference also included a reception at the beautiful Canadian Embassy, so I guess I also visited Canada. Walking the black neighborhoods and eating at the famed Busboys and Poets restaurant and bookstore, 2021 14 th St. NW, where the bohemian and culturally conscious intellectuals hang out to eat, drink, Internet browse, shop for books and see films and live performances. (See busboysandpoets. com ). People-watching at the National Mall, the most memorable mall that doesn’t have a Sbarro pizza restaurant.
Touring the Post Office Museum, which showed the history of the U. S. Postal Service and almost made us not mind those frequent stamp-price increases. Exploring and shopping at historic Union Station, with its majestic marble architecture and repeating Roman-soldier statues... and the myriad people too busy rushing to and from their trains muttering to themselves to enjoy it. Ending the trip with a lovely visit to B. Smith’s Restaurant, founded by and named for the fashion model-turned-restaurateur, television host, author, entrepreneur and entertainer... or, if you will, the black Martha Stewart. The Union Station restaurant (go to bsmith. com and hit the “restaurants” link ) is one of three B. Smith establishments, the others in New York and Sag Harbor on Long Island, N. Y. The Union Station one features Cajun, Creole and Southern cuisine, served up in a stunning Beaux Arts-style dining room that once served as Union Station’s Presidential Suite. Our plate-licking dinners of barbecue fried chicken and apple-roasted barbecue ribs were topped off by mellow music from a jazz combo.
It was there at B. Smith’s that, at least for a while, I stopped caring what was in President Bush’s fridge. And on your right is the E-Mail Room: hwilliams@arkansasonline. com
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