I love Universities. I love the energy, the grounds, the history. I love the sense of hope and transformation at a University. So when I’m near one, I’ll check it out. She and I are in D.C., Her for business and me not for business. We’re staying not too far from Howard University, so I thought I’d check it out.
It’s beautiful, and urban. Like the University of Minnesota, where Younger Son goes, Howard is in the middle of a city. So it has the feel of a city. It’s noisy and cramped, it’s green spaces feel both surrounded and protected. I liked it a lot.
So I did what I usually do. I found a snack (a spicy beef patty from a nearby Jamaican place) and a place to sit…
“Good morning my friend!” said the guy in the apron, holding his tongs. “You hungry?”
I was one of four people in the place, and the only customer at 11:15 in the morning. I was looking around for a menu but there weren’t any. And it looked like my two drink options were water and Ting, a Jamaican soda brand.
“Yes sir, I am.” I replied.
“Chicken or patty?” he asked. I’ve now been given the menu.
“Patty.”
“Beef or chicken?”
“Beef.”
“Excellent,” he said. “Give me one minute, they’re in the oven.”
About a minute later, water in hand, I’m handed a fresh beef patty hot enough that steam was coming out of the wrapper and paper bag it was in. I pay my $3 and head south through Shaw, an historic neighborhood in northwest DC.
I sat down in the center of Howard University to eat my beef patty and drink my water. College students everywhere share that same look of excitement, exhaustion, and anxiety. While watching kids heading to and from class, I saw a University police car stop on the road going by the little park I was in. The officer in the passenger seat got out of the car, took off his gun and belt, set them on the passenger seat, and grabbed a backpack out of the backseat. He waved at his partner and headed to class. I love Universities.
All of this was a little bit of a digression, however. My true goal upon leaving this morning was to get to Ben’s Chili Bowl for lunch. I try to go if I can. They make a good chili dog, and the place is iconic. In 1958, Ben and Virginia Ali opened the place in the Shaw neighborhood, just weeks before their wedding. The riots that erupted in 1968 following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. devastated the area. A local civil rights leader asked the Ali’s to keep the restaurant open, a place for community leaders to meet. The Ali’s were granted an exception to the curfew, feeding police and local leaders throughout the ordeal.
Ben Ali died in 2009, and his wife Virginia retired from day-to-day operations, leaving Ben’s in the hands of their two sons Nizam and Kamal.
I walked in to Ben’s and was surprised that it was only about half full. I actually got a seat at the counter. As always, the food was good and the service was great. I saw Virginia Ali stacking cups across the counter from me, and was happy to thank her and shake her hand. I ordered a Spicy Half-smoke with chili and cheese, a side of fries and a diet coke. I pulled a giant, yet still insufficient wad of napkins from the dispenser and started to go to work.
A really loud commotion interrupted my first bite as the door swung open and people started yelling. I looked up, instinctively irritated, and saw the Stanley Cup walk in the door. For real, no lie, the Stanley Cup, carried by Slapshot, the Nationals mascot. I guess one icon, temporarily in town (Go Wild!) has to visit another icon. It was surreal. I took pictures, and put my arm around Mrs. Ali’s shoulders for a local news photographer.
Then I sat back down and finished my cold chili dog, thinking about the absurdity of my day, and grinning like an idiot.
Well, it’s 2 o’clock. Time to head back out and see what happens next.
*”It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien, Lord of the Rings.
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