DAY THREE, Friday, April 8
7:00 p.m.
The Accident Reporting Hotline for D.C. has been down all morning long -- apparently, if you have an accident in D.C., you are shit out of luck because the hotline goes down and stays down. Which is strange because they certainly aren't lacking in manpower -- I've never seen such a dense population of cops in my life. We decide that the best thing to do is to fill out a report at a police station on the way to Danny's apartment. After only one missed turn and some map deciphering, we make it to the police station at the northern edge of D.C. Jewlia goes in by herself while Marika and I wait at the car and make phone calls. I decide I'd like to use the bathroom and head in to find it. I find Jewlia at the counter, laughing to herself. "He says we can't fill out the report here. We have to go back to the station by the scene of the crime so they can draw a diagram, even though I can draw a diagram fully well. What the fuck are we supposed to do now?"
The surly cop at the counter says, "We don't use that kind of language here."
"Well what the heck am I supposed to do?" Jewlia says. Jewlia's temperature is rising. I don't think we should be testing our luck with these D.C. cops. Luckily, another cop hands us the address for the other police station and we get out without an incident with just enough time to head over to Adams Morgan to meet our dinner dates.
7:55 p.m.
We find the restaurant with ease but spend 10 minutes circling the area for parking. As we're driving up the hill, we see a spot on Kalorama St., and Jewlia gets out of the car to save it, just as a car full of young men driving down the hill aim for the same spot. Marika drives up the hill so we can turn around and go back down to get the spot. We find another space at the top of the hill and park. Marika says, "Maybe we shouldn't have let Jewlia save the spot. I hope those guys didn't beat her up or anything. Let's call her."
I call Jewlia. "We found a spot up here."
Jewlia says, "Oh my god, we can't run into those guys. They'll kill me. They tried to run me over."
8:20 p.m. Short stack -- Meze
We sit down to eat with our dinner companions, Sem Mehmedinovic, the poet whose work Charming Hostess's Sarajevo Blues is based on. We order food. The music is pumping and the political yuppies (puppies) are out in full force for Friday night revelry. Much to our dismay, of all the restaurants on 18th St., the guys Jewlia fought over the parking space have also chosen Meze, so it must be a hot spot. Luckily, they either don't recognize us or don't care.
The speakers pump bad world trance music. My companions smoke many cigarettes at the long dinner table. Service is friendly and efficient. The Bosnians order all the tapas sized place -- several baskets of oil slicked thick bread topped with sesame seeds; average hummus; cucumber tomato salad with parsley and lemon; 5 " grilled lamb kebabs; kofte kebabs; grilled chicken over some cheesy eggplant puree; I'm eating, but I'm not tasting it. I'm so exhausted. Bikram in the morning was DEFINITELY a bad idea. In a lame attempt to join the conversation, I comment on the head-to-toe black garb of the women in Istanbul. Sem's lovely wife Sanja begins a speech about religious choice and unreliable Bosnian men. I shut my trap -- my contributions are useless. I'm losing my shit. I gotta get out of here or I'm going to keel over. I know my lazy eye is drifting because I am too tired to focus. I must leave NOW. Jewlia and Marika sweep me up off the floor and we go home.
But not before this excellent exchange: Over dessert, Marika is sitting with Victor and Pedja. The cheese textured honey bird's nest dessert comes with a mini pitcher of fragrant sugar water. Victor takes the first bite. "Mmm...it never disappoints. Just like sex."
Marika and Pedja both respond with an incredulous, "What?!"
Grade: Not able to rate because of peakiness
Total: Sem generously paid, we didn't even see the bill. Thank you Sem! But meze share plates were $4-10, we ordered about 10-12 plates between 7 people.
Will I return? If I weren't hallucinating from exhaustion, I'd probably say that it's not my kind of place -- it's more of a loud social scene than a food focused place. But the food was pretty good. I think.
Meze
2437 18th St. NW, Washington, DC 20009
Phone: 202-797-0017
Metro: Woodley Park-Zoo/ Adams Morgan (Red Line)
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