A Spoonful of Chivalry

I just had the sweetest experience at The Monocle (D.C.) for lunch. I popped in about an hour and a half before my train home to New York. The restaurant was fairly empty, and I wasn't really craving anything on the menu, so I was prepared to be disappointed, but hungry enough to stay. I sat at the bar and ordered the most D.C. meal I could concoct - a vodka martini and the filet mignon. (Is that D.C.? I’m mostly basing this off The West Wing.) A man in a navy suit with a kind face and white hair greeted me at the door, and helped me tuck my suitcase into the coat closet. He followed me to the bar, poured my drink, and told me a few cute stories about his dog, and their trips to New York. I learned that his dog loves Peking duck, and that they both love New York.

My steak came out within ten minutes, and was a prefect medium rare. The red wine sauce was delicious, and I managed to drip it all over the sleeve of a white cardigan (classic me). Navy suit noticed me dabbing at it, and brought me a cloth napkin and a bottle of soda water. (I got the stain out!) As I was calculating how long I could procrastinate my departure, I realized that the lights had gone down a few notches. I looked out the window and realized the weather had gone from 80 and scattered clouds to full blown tropical storm. I ordered an Uber to drive me to the station, and grimaced when I saw he was 17 minutes a way. Navy suit got straight on the phone and called an employee who was due in soon "Are you nearly here? We have a young lady who needs a ride to the station. Just pull up out front and pick her up". I ended up finding a closer Uber, but wow - what hospitality! My car arrived, and he followed me out with an umbrella over my head. As a New York resident I rarely encounter that kind of small town kindness, and when I do, it’s pretty heart warming, especially in a cosmopolitan-ish place like the capital.

Coincidentally, on the drive to the restaurant, I’d been chatting to a girlfriend who’s temporarily relocated to London from LA. She was a bit worn down by the lack of friendly faces (despite the English reputation for impeccable manners). I agreed, remembering the number of doors that I had held open in London as men breezed through without a “thank you”, or even human acknowledgement, as if it were my full time hobby to hold doors for strange men. I told her about my recent trip to Texas, where a man walked backwards up stairs to open the door at the top for me. He wasn’t flirting, he was just being his version of polite. My friend and I sighed wistfully, and wished that he would have lots of sweet, chivalrous Texan babies.

Anyway, I’m not trying to break new ground here. In some places chivalry is dead, and in some it is not. But the places where chivalry still has a heartbeat are very memorable, and unique. Gents, we might be too shy to pat you on the back in person, but your praises are definitely sung, and perhaps even write a long-winded blog post has been written about your sweet deeds.