DC By the Book

Excerpt: “Time for lunch, sleepy head!” Sally jumped on Alex and nestled her face and hair into his cheek and ear, while kissing him up and down his neck until he opened his eyes. “Where did you get all this energy?” Alex muttered. “Happiness, I guess. I’m ready to walk through Georgetown and find the perfect restaurant and have a scrumptious lunch.” Sally was ready for a big day of adventure with Alex. The air smelled delicious and was delightfully cool with temperatures in the low seventies for this mid-July day. Humidity was taking a day off after thunderstorms had blown through the area early in the morning. Alex knew he had missed a great day to run but hoped to rise early in the morning tomorrow to enjoy a long, adventurous run in Rock Creek Park, which was only two blocks from their hotel. They walked straight north up Twenty-Fifth Street toward the eastern border of the park and found an open field with a nice trail to continue north to P Street. As they reached the edge of the Park, they looked down the fifty-to-hundred-foot drop to see Beach Drive and Rock Creek meandering through the city, south toward the Potomac, just west of the Kennedy Center and the Watergate. The happy couple strolled hand in hand, west across the P Street Bridge to enter Georgetown. The historic bridge was a 336-foot long, concrete arch bridge, first constructed in 1855 to span Rock Creek.The lunch crowds were enjoying the view as Alex took Sally onto some side streets to see the grand homes, row houses, and town homes that make up most of Georgetown. A small ball field with basketball courts bordered the western part of Rock Creek Park. It was being used by mostly young people from all over the world: catching, shooting, throwing various balls and Frisbees while jumping, diving, and running into the suddenly clean air.... They headed west on Dumbarton Street between O and N Streets for the six blocks to Wisconsin Avenue. The cobblestone streets were lined by massive houses that sometimes took up a third of a block, along with small row houses no more than fifteen feet wide. The first fifty houses built in Georgetown dated back to 1751, when it was first settled as a port, the most northern point for ships to travel up the Potomac River. Forty years later, George Washington picked the swamps east of it to build the capital of the newly formed United States. It became and still is the oldest section and community of Washington, DC. After a peaceful fifteen-minute stroll along historic Dumbarton Street, they came out to the active Wisconsin Avenue, the north-south artery of Georgetown. They turned left and headed south a block to eat at Paolo’s Restaurant. Alex immediately ordered some mussels in garlic sauce, fresh mozzarella, and tomatoes with basil and olive oil, steamed artichokes, with two sides of pasta in a red sauce. With a bottle of pinot noir to drink, they were set for some much-needed nourishment. They sat at a table just inside a huge open window that looked out onto the narrow street and the steady stream of beautiful people walking up and down the avenue. Alex and Sally were quiet for the next twenty minutes, eating and drinking, realizing how famished they had become. The last three days had been full of amazing experiences with little time to focus on eating.... After their lunch they walked for hours through Georgetown, then down to the river, back through the Foggy Bottom area, and to the hotel for a short nap and other activities.

Excerpt: The managing owner of the Washington Presidents was Hank Meyers, a soon-to-be sixty-year-old son of Frederick Meyers, the real estate mogul from Washington, DC. Frederick bought the bankrupt team in 2005 from the National League for $470 million and brought it to DC. Now at eighty-nine, he enjoyed watching Hank and other family members run the team, while he continued deals in real estate, buying up bargain lots and properties. Currently Frederick was focused around the newly constructed Presidents Ballpark. He decided to develop several blocks around the stadium that bordered the Anacostia River to eventually help with attendance. Presidents Ballpark could become the crown jewel of a new, architecturally chic, and ready for jet-set crowd, waterfront development. He lived on the top floor of one of his new buildings, just a block from the stadium. At night he loved to see the lights from the game sparkle under the moonlight that hovered over the Anacostia. The 8.7 mile river, named after the Anacostan Native Indians, starts in Maryland above historic Bladensburg, which was established in 1742 as an inspection port for tobacco. The river winds its way into northeast DC, flowing past the historic RFK Stadium into southeast DC and the Potomac River, just a short distance past the new ballpark. Frederick Meyer was born in 1923, the year before the only Washington World Series triumph and was ten when he saw the last World Series game played in DC at Griffith Stadium in 1933. He was determined to see several more in DC before he left this earth.