Bad parts of town

Washington D.C.
Fall, 1991

I went with my college internship program. We worked as interns in placements that matched the idealism of college students and our particular politically-focused college. We were, as the motto proclaimed, "Leaders in the Making." We had interns at the Federal Reserve, the National Endowment for the Arts, Congress, and more. I was at a think-tank.

Then, we went to night classes and home to our apartments spread across the city. On the weekends we went to open-houses, concerts, and a 24-hour bookstore/coffee house/restaurant with live music.

I spent most of my semester there in bad parts of town. On Friday nights when we were out after the metro closed and took a cab home, the drivers regularly told us that we had the sector wrong. Certainly we didn't live on "I" street SE. We must mean NW. Occasionally the concerts we went to were in bad parts of town. The bands were good, though. My hoity think-tank was also in a bad part of town. Behind Union Station surrounded by nothing but decrepit, mostly abandoned brownstones and vacant lots. Except the pizza place 3 blocks away.

Our office manager was named Gia. One day, years before, she went to the pizza place and asked them to put a bagel with tomato and cheese through the pizza oven. They charged her a buck for it. Long before I got to the office, everyone was hooked. Some liked garlic salt, others were
purists, but the basic "gia bagel" was loved by all. It was a perfect breakfast, snack, or lunch. The pizza place was on speed dial, and at least once a day someone would call and say simply "4 gia bagels please." It was fall, which meant rain in D.C., so the big question was who was going to trudge the 6 soggy blocks to fetch and return the nourishing goodness. The longstanding trade-off was "you fly, I'll buy." As the broke intern, I was almost always the delivery person, and happy to do it.

When I left D.C., Oosje and I worked on perfecting the Gia Bagel. We couldn't ever get it quite right without the pizza oven. Under a broiler the tomato got too hot and the bagel stayed cold. We finally learned to warm the bagel first before a quick trip under the broiler, although we had to sacrifice the yummy crunchy cheese that melted over the side when the broiler was really allowed to do it's thing. It was passable, but never quite right. It's been years and years since I made one, although I do break it out occasionally. It's been years and years since I thought of them, too.

This morning I dropped Moolah and Ace off with their daytime family. Moolah has a dentist appointment in the middle of the day, so rather than spend the time driving between my office and the daytime home, I decided to work from a nearby library. First I stopped at Noah's Bagels for an egg-bagel sandwich.

I walked in the door and saw a big shiny poster for new pizza bagels. Seventeen years, and my mouth started watering instantly. Tomato wasn't an option on the menu, but I smiled and described what I wanted to the bagel-slinger, who made me an almost-perfect Gia Bagel. The only difference was that it had garlic cream cheese, which I have to admit was a nice update. It didn't cost a buck, but I'm willing to pay 17 years inflation. I'm sure it will be a short lived menu item. Those kinds of things are usually "for a limited time only". But, I will definitely be returning for more while they last.

And, for those of you who read this whole thing and really just wanted more pictures of the munchkins, here's your reward... from the park on Sunday afternoon.