DC By the Book

Excerpt: Refusing to wait for the elevator, Viv ran down the four flights of stairs, eventually jumping down the last two steps and landing with a smack against the polished floor in the basement of the Rayburn Building. On average, a Senate page walked seven miles of hallway each day, picking up and delivering packages. On a typical day, those seven miles could take them from the hearing room where Nixon was impeached during Watergate, past the old Supreme Court chamber, where the Court first decided the Dred Scott case, to the west front of the Capitol, where every new President takes the oath of office, to the center of the enormous rotunda—underneath the vaulted majesty of the Capitol dome—where the bodies of both Abraham Lincoln and John F. Kennedy once lay in state. Viv saw it every single day.

Excerpt: So what do you think?” I ask as I rush into Harris’s office on the fourth floor of the Russell Senate Office Building. With its arched windows and tall ceilings, it’s nicer than the best office on the House side. The two branches of government are supposed to be equal. Welcome to the Senate.

Excerpt: The sidewalk’s packed with fellow employees who are just now coming back from lunch. If he’s walking the halls all day, maybe he’s just after some fresh air. Besides, there’s more than one way to cut across to the Capitol. I keep telling myself that as he heads up the block. Five steps later, he reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a cell phone. Maybe that’s it—reception’s better outside—but as he presses the phone to his ear, he does the oddest thing of all. At the corner of Independence and South Capitol, all he has to do is make a left and cut across the street. Instead, he pauses a moment—and makes a right. Away from the Capitol.

Excerpt: Instead, the page bounces along, tapping the envelope—filled with our money—against his thigh. He moves without a hint of hesitation. To me, this is a rough neighborhood. To the page, this is home. Up ahead, the street rises slightly, then levels off just below the overpass for I-395 that runs perpendicular overhead. As the page nears the overpass, he once again glances back to see if anyone’s following. I duck behind a black Acura, slamming my shoulder into the side mirror. There's a loud chirp. Oh, no. I shut my eyes tight. And the Acura’s alarm explodes, howling like a police siren.

Excerpt: With a kick, I unhinge the metal ladder, sending it sliding down toward the sidewalk in the alley. Following right behind it, I shuffle down, my shoes smacking against the concrete. On my left is a dead end. On my right, across the street, is Bullfeathers, one of Capitol Hill’s oldest bars. They should be in the heart of happy hour—the perfect time to get lost in a crowd.

Excerpt: The quote on the menu says, “the best damn drink in town,” but the only reason I picked Stan’s Restaurant is because of its clientele. Located down the block from the offices of the Washington Post, Stan’s always has a few reporters and editors lurking around. And since most of the deadlines have already passed, the bar’s practically packed. I learned my lesson. If something goes wrong, I want witnesses with access to lots of ink.

Excerpt: NEXT GROUP, PLEASE! Next group!” the Capitol policeman calls out, waving us toward the visitor’s entrance on the west front of the Capitol. Shuffling behind the twenty-person group of high-schoolers armed with Future President baseball caps, Viv and I keep our heads down and our government IDs hidden beneath our shirts. On average, the west front handles four million visitors a year, making it a constant crowded mess of map-and camera-wielding tourists. Most days, staffers avoid it at all costs. That’s exactly why we’re here. As the group shoves its way inside, I’m once again reminded that the Capitol is the only building in the world with no back—both the west front (overlooking the Mall) and the east front (overlooking the Supreme Court) claim to be the true front. Mostly, it’s because, with so many self-important people in one place, they all want to think their wonderful view is the best. Even the north side and south side get into the act, calling themselves the Senate entrance and House entrance. Four sides of a building, and not one of them is the back. Only in Congress.

Excerpt: As we walk through an exhibit labeled A Material World, we’re surrounded by glass cases that track America’s manufacturing process. The first case is filled with timber, bricks, slate, and cowhide; the last case features the bright colored plastic of a Rubik’s Cube and a PacMan machine. “This is progress,” a nearby tour guide announces. I look at Viv. Time to make some progress here, too.

Excerpt: Most people know that if the Capitol is under a full-on terrorist assault, the bigwigs and hotshots get relocated to a top-secret off-site location. If the attack’s on a smaller scale, they go to Fort McNair, in Southwest D.C. But if the attack is minor and containable—like a gas canister thrown in the hallways—they come here, right across the street, to the Library of Congress. Standing outside the closed doors of the European Reading Room on the second floor, I sink down to sit on the marble floor. My shoulder eventually rests on the leg of one of the enormous glass display cases that line the hallway and are filled with historical artifacts.

Excerpt: Staring through the glass partition at D.C.’ s Central Detention Facility, I can’t help but listen to the one-way conversations around me. Rosemary’s doing fine… Don’t worry, he’s not gonna use your car… Soon, they said soon, sweetie… Unlike the movies, the visitors’ hall here doesn’t have walled-off partitions on my right and left for extra privacy. This is D.C. Jail on a D.C. budget—no perks allowed. The result is a chorus of chattering voices, each one attempting to keep it low, but pitched loud enough so they can hear themselves over all the noise. Add the unnatural hum of the prisoners’ voices as they seep through the glass, and we’ve got all the makings of a giant, enclosed phone booth. The only good news is, the people in the orange jumpsuits are on the other side of the glass.