But like the best-laid plans often do, this one fell through the cracks. Due to the severe cold of last night freezing Katelyn’s car doors shut tighter than inauguration security, we finally hit the road by 8 a.m.
Much of the ride was spent debating what angles we planned to take on our respective stories throughout the trip, and a good bit, of course, was spent debating where to stop for lunch.
To land in D.C. from Pittsburgh, the informed driver will take a route through the lovely state of Maryland. And what else could we eat in Maryland but crabs? So upon seeing a sign for The Cracked Claw, we pulled off the highway to Urbana, a subject we’ll return to momentarily.
After much confusion as to where we’d park, and even more confusion about how to actually enter the restaurant, we walked into the cavernous Cracked Claw, a hot spot that we quickly learned was the biggest Off-Track Betting location in the entirety of Maryland, and the first business to earn such a license in the state.
The dozens of TVs showing exclusively horse racing hanging from every wall around our table, as well as the old men who made up the exclusive patronage of the place suddenly made sense. Our combined age of 65 was still younger than most of these old chaps, who sat mostly in silence and swigged from pitchers of beer (this is the life: beer, seafood and betting by noon every Saturday).
Outside the dining room, which itself was fit for a banquet of the scale of the finest Sweet 16 or Bar Mitzvah party, there were several large, open rooms filled with even more hanging TV sets with even more old men scribbling their bets secretively on napkins. Someone was going to win big.
And guess what — it was us! The Po’ Boy Sandwiches and Red Crab Soups were marvelous.
After a nice seafood meal and some great Urbana, MD, trivia from our waitress (it was the sight of the Monocacy battle of the Civil War, but now is more or less a commuter suburb. And, further, The Cracked Claw used to be one of Urbana’s nicest mansions. I guess the more you know…) we were back on the road to the White House.
Passing a giant Sodexo headquarter building reminded us of the pleasures of home (sigh…), but D.C. was quickly approaching.
The dawning of a new day of American politics was so close we could taste it. Or maybe that was still the crab soup.
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