So there I was, hanging out at the National Airport Holiday Inn on Christmas night. Outside the freezing rain was hammering Arlington, Virginia, and inside I was hungry. What sort of food could I get? The hotel restaurant was closed but they gave me a list of nearby restaurants that were open on Christmas. Most of them were Chinese, but there was a pub down the street that was open.
If it weren’t pouring rain, I’d have walked. But I didn’t want wet shoes for the plane. To pack them in my bag would be even worse. I drove, but of course it’s an urban area with a lot of snow on the ground. There was nowhere to park.
I wandered up Four Mile Run in my Hyundai. Would Fairlington Pizza still be there? It was—but it was closed.
The McDonald’s that used to be Roy Rogers caught my eye. Inside people milled about and the lights were on. But when I got closer, I could see that it was some kind of party for an Indian family. That’s okay. I didn’t really need a Big Mac.
The Bradlee Chinese restaurant that I’d last been to in 1983 for sweet-and-sour pork beckoned to me. I ended up having Christmas soup at a place I used to go to during lunch from TC Williams High School. I remembered it being crappy back then. It was much, much better now.