An Intern’s Guide to D.C.

Interns in Washington, D.C. (Flickr/jGregor)

Welcome, District of Columbia summer interns. Along with intolerable heat, lobbyist-written legislation, and random acts of gun violence, you are our most precious natural resource. With your bright smiles, hilariously erect posture, and infuriating earnestness, you delight us with your presence (to a point). In addition to making our copies and writing our articles, you are a constant source of entertainment. When you overenthusiastically shake our hand (or when you wander into a gay bar accidentally), you add light and joy to our drab, endless workdays.

The least I can do to help is offer you some tips for navigating this fine city. I am uniquely qualified for this task. Not due to writing skills or observational ability or emotional intelligence or experience, mind you. No. I am the man for the job because I survived.

You see, fair intern, there was a period beginning in mid-2008 during which the District decided it would no longer be in need of my services, and thus began making efforts to expel me. First it dropped a tree on my car. Then it sent some random dude to punch me in the face in an outrageously wanton act of punching. Then it had me mugged a few blocks south of my house. Then it had someone break into my car—just for fun and to root around a bit, not to take anything. Having made its point, the city retreated, presumably to torture someone else, or, more optimistically, to finally deal with its crumbling schools or something.

Ideally, your experience won’t be similar to mine. To help you avoid random occurrences over which you have no control whatsoever, regardless of how informed you are, I’ve made a list of five things you need to know about D.C.

1. D.C. can be a total dick.

I don’t want to overstate this, but I’ve never lived in a place with quite so much random crime as D.C. Whether it takes the form of car break-ins or muggings or kids throwing rocks at passing bicyclists, the District has a mean streak. A friend of mine was approached from behind by two kids a block from a Metro station. One of them punched him in the eye and they ran away without even trying to take anything. Another friend saw a similar thing happen to someone a half-block in front of her in Columbia Heights, the neighborhood in which I live. I’ve twice had stuff thrown at me for no reason (the first time, it was sesame seeds; the second, more painful time, it was a plastic water bottle). One housemate had her car broken into behind our house. Another had his car broken into twice (one a failed attempt that damaged his door) in three months. Etcetera.

This means two things: D.C. sucks in certain ways, and be careful. There’s no reason to be paranoid, and a lot of this stuff varies by neighborhood (there’s a lot less of it in Georgetown and Foggy Bottom, where many interns are housed), but a higher level of vigilance is required in D.C. than in safer cities, like Detroit.

2. Eighteenth Street in Adams Morgan is the worst street in the city.

I didn’t do any D.C. internships in college. Those who did have told me that partying on the 18th St. NW strip in Adams Morgan is a rite of passage of sorts, the kind of thing people point to and say, “Well, I did that before I was old enough to know better.”

Do yourself a favor and know better. To borrow a phrase spoken by a man much smarter than myself, you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy than 18th St. NW in Adams Morgan. It is a grisly experiment in human nature, the horrific result of mixing an excess of testosterone with an endless stream of extremely intoxicated girls who are barely old enough to be drinking. The best-case scenario, if you go there with a group that includes women, is that they will only be sexually harassed to a minor degree. The worst-case scenario is that you will witness something like this. After all, how many neighborhoods have a website named after their crime problem?

It’s simply not worth it. There are too many assholes and too few cool places on Eighteenth Street for anyone to waste their time there on a Friday or Saturday night (to be fair, there are some decent establishments there if you go during daylight hours).

3. Jumbo Slices Are Terrible.

At least a few times a year, I have a conversation that goes something like this:

Me: Yeah, I really don’t get why D.C. doesn’t have decent pizza by the slice. Most cities do. All we have are jumbo slices, which are disgusting.

Someone Else: Gross.

Another Dude: They’re terrible.

Another Dude’s Friend: [actually vomits]

Some Other Guy: I don’t know. Jumbo slices are pretty good when you’re drunk.

Some Other Guy is stupid. Or, to be more accurate, he is completely missing the point. Everything tastes good when you’re drunk. When was the last time you ate something in an intoxicated state and didn’t find it satisfying? It doesn’t happen. Jumbo slices—which, not coincidentally, are mostly found in Adams Morgan—owe their very existence to the deadening impact of alcohol on the human palate.

Instead of getting a jumbo slice, do yourself a favor. Make sure that the next time you come home at the end of a night out, you have pre-made pizza dough, tomato sauce, and cheese. Mix them together in any configuration imaginable, pop them in the oven for a few minutes, and take your concoction out. Wolf it down, ignoring the fact that most of it hasn’t cooked all the way through. What you’ve just eaten is tastier and more nutritionally substantive than a jumbo slice.

(Fun fact: My councilman has argued for a ban on jumbo slices, saying that they contribute to the rampant crime on the aforementioned 18th St. strip. While I find it unlikely that jumbo slices commit crimes—other than in the sense that they mug your stomach—I wholeheartedly support a ban on this culinary abomination.)

4. D.C. has surprisingly good tacos and taco-related fare.

The District almost—almost—makes up for its staggering dearth of diners and pizza joints by doing rather well in the taco department, at least for an East Coast city. Within a couple of miles on Columbia Rd. NW and 14th St. NW you will find many good options, including Super Tacos and Bakery (excellent, huge tortas), a solid taco cart at approximately Columbia Rd. and Mozart Pl., Pollo Sabroso (try the yucca fries, I beg you), and Taqueria Distrito Federal. But the king of the hill in this department, as far as I’m concerned, is El Rinconcito II. Everything about Rinconcito is great, from the sweet, buttery refried beans to the thick, Salvadoran-style tortillas. I’d go for the chimichangas or fajitas, both of which are excellent. Rinconcito also has more “authentic” Mexican and Salvadoran offerings, including giant soups filled with weird things that scare me. The menu is “distinctly ethnic,” reports one distinctly un-ethnic Yelper.

5. Wonderland is lame.

At some point during your time here, one of your fellow chirpy interns will chirp excitedly, “Let’s go to Wonderland. Everyone says that place is great!” Yes, everyone does say that place is great. Everyone says a lot of things are great.

It’s not like I don’t go to Wonderland. I do. I live near it, and everyone always wants to go, so it’s inevitable. My problem is with the extent to which it is overhyped. The D.C. bars I really like, such as Rock N Roll Hotel and The Red Derby, have something specific going for them—great music and a gimmick that works for the former, very cheap beers and a cool, laid-back atmosphere for the latter (also, macaroni and cheese wedges, a concept I never could have imagined had I not experienced it firsthand).

What does Wonderland have? It’s not cheaper than other bars. It only attracts a cooler crowd than (some) other bars by virtue of the fact that if you’re from the neighborhood, you’ll probably run into people you know (and that’s only because everyone goes there). There’s dancing upstairs, if you’re into that. But the music quality is inconsistent and it’s often extremely crowded and uncomfortable. More and more, Wonderland is attracting kids who would otherwise be in Adams Morgan. There’s nothing special about it.

I’ll see you there this weekend.

Jesse Singal is an associate editor at Campus Progress.

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