On my recent trip to Washington, D.C. I stayed at the Tabard Inn, which is on N Street just east of Dupont Circle. I had eaten at the restaurant a few times over the years and had always enjoyed the food and the atmosphere, which is elegant without being fusty or pretentious.
Stepping into the lobby, I felt like the year could have just as easily been 1911.
To get to my room, I had to walk through the lounge, where I resisted the urge to take a nap on one of the many couches, or at least have a pre-dinner whiskey.
It's difficult to feel too anxious when you're surrounded by so many hues of dark red, along with polished wooden beams and plush rugs.
The restaurant hadn't yet opened for dinner, but a few people were apparently lingering over a late lunch. The staff bustled around getting ready for the night ahead, and I felt like I was walking through a movie set as I made my way to my room, which was at the top of the stairs on the right.
I was staying in a secret place.
There can never be too many pictures of fish on the walls, as far as I'm concerned.
The room was small but clean and comfortable, and I was relieved not to see a television, which would have ruined the vibe. Unfortunately the wifi didn't really work in my room either, but I didn't mind going down to the lounge, where the signal was much better.
The window overlooked a courtyard garden that reminded me of Venice.
It was a bit too cold to eat outside, but the garden was a perfect place to have a drink.
This closet was only about six inches deep -- a decoy, basically -- and filed with vintage photographs of non-heterosexual male couples.
You get the sense that the Tabard Inn, like Washington, D.C., has long hosted gays who have fled here from the rest of the country.
It's always nice to feel welcomed.
What's also interesting about the Tabard is that while it's not exactly cheap, the rooms are only about half the price (or even less) of the Marriott, the soulless crypt where I was attending a conference during the day.
I've stayed here before too, and can assure you that there are no tongue-in-cheek "in the closet" pictures of gay men, much less antique drawings of fish or really anything else that makes the Tabard so old-world charming and -- as a result -- probably impossible to replicate.
In these times of crushing economic disparity, it was nice to feel like there are still places where capitalism seems to accommodate good taste and diversity.
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