Washington, D.C. Part ONE

June 29-August 5 2007

My arrival in the capital of the United States was one filled with drama.

The flight from Los Angeles to Washington had a quick connection at Atlanta, Georgia. But the first flight landed very late, and that resulted in most of the connecting flights out of Atlanta to be delayed. By the time I was walking to the gate, the plane bound for Washington was to have left already but they were waiting for delayed passengers.

So I landed at the Regan International Airport an hour later than scheduled, only to find that my bags hadn’t arrived and this happened to a few other passengers too. I filled out the forms, and was informed that my bags were probably still in Atlanta and they wouldn’t come till the next day. This was about 11pm and I still had to make my way to the hostel, where I had booked a bed for the night. Dismayed, I caught the metro to the city. Mind you, this was my first time in DC; I was alone, tired, without my bags, and it was late.

I found the hostel, which was part of the Hostelling International group and located in downtown DC, near Chinatown. The other people in the room were asleep already but I was starving and decided to find a McD’s for a quick bite. I also called Gladys to lament about the horrible day – the delayed flight, my lost luggage and not having any clothes to change into. It was truly tragic, that day.

The next day, other than having to retrieve my bags, I also had to find an apartment for the next five weeks while I was in town for my summer class. I shortlisted a few potential rentals and e-mailed them, hoping to meet up with them. I also put up an ad on craigs, hoping that a potential landlord would get back to me. Now, the bags. It was yet another tragic day. I was last informed that they would deliver the bags to me when they arrived. They had arrived at the airport but they would only deliver them to me later that day or the following day. And I couldn’t wait that long! So I decided to collect the bags myself from the airport. (Reagan International is about 20-30 mins away via metro, and it was quite a pain to be lugging my bags in the daytime, with the day crowds and all.)

Long story short, my bags and I were reunited once more. Maybe budget airlines don’t appeal to me anymore. The inconveniences and lack of reasonable service from their staff were definitely not worth the (slightly lesser) airfare at all.

On the accommodation front, I wasn’t having it good either. I had arranged to meet a potential landlord earlier but she didn’t show. Relying on free wireless isn’t such a good idea at all, especially since I couldn’t connect at some places I should have been able to, i.e. Starbucks or Cosi cafe. Anyway, I got in touch with a lady who was subletting her apartment for a pretty reasonable rate and I was quite desperate by then. I took a taxi to the address she had given me and I was quite disappointed by the neighborhood. It was predominantly a non-White neighborhood and although there’s nothing wrong with that, I didn’t feel safe because the area looked quite dodgy and I later realized that it was quite far from where my classes were held. She was a no-show too, because she didn’t respond when I knocked on her door. Anyway. So I was left with no options at all and that night was to be my last night at the hostel. There were no more vacancies left.

Truly truly desperate and without a clue of what to do next, I decided there was not much I could do anyway since it was late already, so I went walking around to explore a little of the city. The next morning, however, proved to be the turning point. A lady had responded to my ad on craigs and although the price was steep, it was within my budget and it was almost perfect because it was where I was looking for - Adam’s Morgan. Fantastic.

After speaking to her on the phone, I immediately knew I had found the right place without even checking it out. I checked out of the hostel, grabbed my bags and took a taxi to the house. She must have been surprised that I brought my bags along since I hadn’t even saw the house yet. But it was do-or-die - I would have no roof over my head that night.

It was a really nice and cozy three-storey townhouse. The owners were a Jewish American and an Indian American. They recently had a baby, but I didn’t mind that. The price was steep but worth it. After looking at the house, I knew this was the one, and after discussing a little, I moved in and paid for the next five weeks in cash, plus a safety deposit in check. The rent included wireless Internet, utilities and I was free to use the kitchen and laundry facilities as and when I wanted. My landlord had visited Singapore before and had friends there too, so that was a bonus. My week was finally starting to get better.