How to Navigate Washington, D.C. Without Going Nuts

by Paul Brady on


I’ve been on the road for more than a month, and here’s my number one tip: Don’t drive in Washington, D.C. Nightmare would be a measure too generous.

As soon as I could park my ride, I did, content to not touch it until I pulled out of the District two days later. And considering the byzantine fare structure and bizarre routing of the Metro, it’s something I avoid, too. Here’s a better idea.

Trade four wheels for two: Rent a bike. While you can certainly walk the city-getting to your destination eventually-it’s much easier to just pedal there, particularly in the summer, when temperatures in Washington hit roughly “surface of the sun” levels. Best to limit your exposure by riding where you’re going in a hurry.

The newest option in town is the Capital Bikeshare program. Another in a growing list of bike-sharing efforts around the world modeled on Paris’ Velib, the initiative is open to visitors because it offers 24-hour and five-day “memberships.” Any riding up to 30 minutes is free after that, with longer rides racking up bigger bills. (The clock resets each time you dock your bike, so it’s possible to do the whole day for five bucks.)

But the claim that Capital Bikeshare “puts 1,100 bicycles at your fingertips” is a stretch at best: On the occasions that you actually stumble across a station, there’s no guarantee you’ll actually find one to ride. A couple of smartphone apps have been developed to help with this problem, but they’re not foolproof yet.

The easier solution is to buy some convenience with a Bike and Roll rental. You’ll pay a little bit more, but you’ll have the same ride all day-and ditch the hassle of looking for docking stations while on the clock. With your bike dialed in, you’ll actually want to ride from the Capitol all the way down to the new Martin Luther King, Jr. monument that’s scheduled to open to the public before the end of summer.

Exploring the Baltimore Beyond the Inner Harbor

by Paul Brady on


To me, a huge fan of Baltimore but still a tourist, it seemed like a random Saturday in the early summer. But in Charles Village, a neighborhood between Johns Hopkins and the harbor, it was the weekend of the “Pile of Craft” fair at St. John’s church. I found out about it by chance, leafing through a copy of City Paper while doing laundry. (One accumulates lots of laundry on long road trips!)

Dozens of tables filled the sanctuary, selling prints, jewelry, art, fashion, toys, gizmos, and all manner of decorative doodads. A food truck was parked on 26th Street, selling fancy grilled cheese sandwiches, as neighbors bumped into each other outside, catching up-and probably discussing the day’s haul from the nearby farmer’s market.

This was Baltimore, alive and fun and quirky. I’d found Charm City a couple miles north of the Inner Harbor.

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I wasn’t staying there either. I’d found a hotel built on the site of a brewery in what real estate people and Baltimore boosters are calling Harbor East, a little east of the National Aquarium and a little west of Fells Point, the historic district that’s one of the city’s busy nightlife districts. The Fairfield Inn & Suites Downtown caught me eye for more than just the free wifi, free breakfast and free bikes to borrow: It’s a newly built, LEED-certified hotel that’s embraced the architectural vernacular of its city.

The general manager, Roberta Wittes, explained as she took me on a tour, pointing out the row home that’s been integrated into the building and now serves as a presidential suite. The hotel is built on the site where the original Star Spangled Banner was sewn: Mary Young Pickersgill finished the flag that would fly over Fort McHenry during the War of 1812 at 101 President Street, when it was Claggett’s brewery.

While the Fairfield was built to echo the look of an old brewery, Woodberry Kitchen, the city’s hottest restaurant, is set in a foundry built around 1870. The menu lists the farms and fishermen of the Chesapeake Bay region who provide the night’s ingredients, making it as of-the-moment as a restaurant can be, with handsome waiters parading around in plaid button-ups. The night I had dinner, Duff Goldman was sitting at a two-top and got up to say hey to the guys working the wood burning oven.

There are, of course, still problems in Baltimore, starting with blocks and blocks and blocks of abandoned housing that are both symptom and cause of urban decay. With a talented local photographer named Patrick Joust, who happens to have a day job as a research librarian, I toured some of the more depressed corners of the city. An understatement: It’s not all new hotels and fancy restaurants.

But among the boarded up row homes are signs of civic pride, like Roots Fest 2011, an event held in West Baltimore the Sunday after the craft fair. The idea is to reunify a neighborhood that was rent in two by the construction of a highway that’s now been partially abandoned. (Traffic still flows in one direction.) Attendance was light, but that the festival would happen at all is a sign of progress, Patrick said.

I found more good news at Lexington Market, the home of Faidley’s, the restaurant that’s been praised so many times it shouldn’t need to make lump crab cakes that taste this good. But they do. The line still snakes around the space, all the way to the lobster tank, as fish mongers banter in thick Baltimore accents. Who needs the Inner Harbor anyway?

Finding Philadelphia’s Hotbed of Creativity

by Paul Brady on

Sitting in a kitchen in a loft on Third Street in Old City, talking to one of the most enthusiastic and driven people I’ve met in years, I began to wonder what would happen if I quit my job, moved to Philadelphia and started my own business. Alex Hillman, wearing a t-shirt that read “I <3 my internet friends,” was selling me on the cheekily named co-working space Independents Hall, of which he’s a co-founder. His friend Parker Whitney was helping, telling me the story of his two years in Philadelphia.

With no real direction and no real skills beyond a liberal arts degree, Parker stumbled across Alex’s email address and sent him a message. After an internship at IndyHall, he started a business with a fellow member, making games for mobile phones. Total time from “lost recent grad” to “ambitious game designer” and company co-founder? 22 months.

Traveling the American Road – Philadelphia’s Independents Hall


But wait, co-working? It’s a no-longer-radical idea that puts independent-minded free agents in the same building, for encouragement, for inspiration and for killer happy hours that couldn’t happen if everyone was working from home.

Indy Hall’s other co-founder, Geoff DiMasi, says Philadelphia is the perfect place for such a radical departure from the traditional go-to-an-office-job working life, a city perfectly suited to creativity and innovation. It is, after all, where Ben Franklin and his Renaissance men friends created the original Independence Hall.

“The key thing was that we cared about Philadelphia,” Geoff told me. Alex agrees: “Regardless of our differences, it always came down to ‘This is to make Philadelphia a better place.'” He wants, in no uncertain terms, to put Philly on the map.

The IndyHall guys certainly have the attention of the city, or at least some of its politicians. City councilman Bill Green is a big supporter, and government staffers are taking notice of the way things get done when fueled by passionate people-and Victory beer happy hours.

Alex told me about Jeff Friedman, who works with Mayor Michael Nutter, and the time he visited a “hack session” that took him well outside his comfort zone. “At the end of the day, [Jeff] said something to the effect of ‘I didn’t even know things could be done this way,” Alex said. “To have somebody who works at City Hall be turned on to a new way to ‘get shit done,’ I think is extremely powerful.”

Alex’s story reminded me of downtown Cleveland, where food truck-driving entrepreneurs sang the praises of their city councilman, Joe Cimperman, when I visited earlier this summer. He pushed through a policy allowing the trucks downtown-a risky move politically-to enable creative people to do what they love. The crowds mobbing the trucks are proof that sometimes taking a risk pays off.

While Alex, Geoff and the IndyHall crew certainly aren’t sitting around waiting for rubber stamps from City Hall, they do see the value of having politicos on board. With help from Councilman Green, they’re working together on a new effort to create “co-housing” near Fishtown, a place to extend the co-working vibe to residential life.

Partnering with an environmentally conscious developer, Postgreen, plans have been laid and property has been acquired. The do-it-yourself hackers, who started IndyHall about four years ago, have gone from imagining to literally building the city’s future.

Summer Monday giveaway: stay in touch with an iPad

by Annemarie Dooling on

Nobody loves summer more than your friendly neighborhood Gadling bloggers. It’s the perfect time to plan an escape from the mundane trials of daily life, or maximize your adventures in the outdoors. And if you’re planning on flying the coop this summer, you’re going to need some fun swag. So every week this summer, in celebration of our own road trip, Traveling the American Road, Gadling will be giving away one item to help you run away on your dream summer excursion. But, be warned: we are not responsible for the hilarity that ensues.

This week we’re giving away an iPad. Read on below to enter to win or click here for the official contest rules.

To enter, leave a comment below telling us who you’ll keep in touch with while you’re running away from home this summer.

Or tweet using the button below, including the hashtag #GadlingSummerGiveaways.

This contest closed at 11:59PM on Sunday, July 10th. Stay tuned for more giveaways!

Good luck!

Atlantic City Is a Hard Place to Love

by Paul Brady on

Somewhere around Indiana and Pacific avenues, I had a sinking feeling. Atlantic City seemed to consist entirely of strip clubs and skin dens, convenience stores and empty store fronts. The beach was a few blocks away, true. But would a sparkling bit of ocean be enough to make the uneasy feeling in my stomach subside? This seaside resort, stacked with casino resorts dwarfed by their cousins in Las Vegas, did not look promising as I drove up to my hotel.

It was a dive of a place, recommended to me by a fellow travel writer, and someone I think of as an Atlantic City aficionado. He told me to try the Inn at the Irish Pub, a spot perched precariously above a dark watering hole, emphasis on the hole, that’s open 24 hours a day. The hotel is the sort of place that charges a deposit of $5 when you’re handed a brass key fastened to a plastic yellow diamond, stamped with a number.

I hiked up the stairs to my room, whose bathroom connected to the room next door, and flopped on the lumpy bed. I needed to call my friend, Robert Reid, and ask him if he’d set me up for an elaborate travelers’ joke, sending me to the inn to see if I’d actually go.

Traveling the American Road – Trying to Love Atlantic City


I told him, “This place is a dump,” to which he replied, “Oh no, I love that place!” I still didn’t believe him. “I wonder if you got a bad room,” he said. “I mean, it’s old, I know. I had fun there… You don’t like the room?” I mentioned that while I’d stayed in worse, that’s not really saying much, coming from a guy that’s slept in a hammock in a garage in Nicaragua, among other less-than-luxe places. “To me, you know what, it’s one of my favorite hotels in America.”

He explained: “Most of my hotel stays are forgettable, cookie-cutter experiences. My room was totally fine. It was clean, this kind of mixed-matched random old furniture, slightly slanted floors, the window with the lace curtain blowing, the people are hilarious. It’s just like, ‘Why does this exist?!'”

Robert’s interest in the hotel was unique, though, being informed by his Monopoly quest. See, the street names in the real estate game were drawn from Atlantic City, and last year, he set out to learn the stories of the avenues that we all know from the board. His trip-and resulting video-gave me high hopes for AC, even if they would soon be dashed.

For those not on a Monopoly quest, like me, it’s a tough place to visit. There are vacant lots, disused by everyone except a lone golfer I saw, swinging an iron simply because he had the space. There’s the grime you’ll find at any casino resort, set a little deeper and in need of a month-long scrub. There’s unemployment, too, bad and deep and forecast to last for many more years.

The boardwalk is a dimly bright spot. Even on a weekday evening, it was busy with families and couples, the famous pushcarts carrying tourists north and south. (There’s a big billboard advertising Boardwalk Empire, the HBO show that’s at least putting the name Atlantic City in people’s homes again.) The casinos, with Wild West, Roman, Mughal themes, do have visitors, if only a few. As my friend told me, “It just isn’t quite Vegas. It’s not even quite Reno.”

Robert insists–and I believe him–that the people in AC are proud of their hometown. But for those not interested in where Monopoly comes from or cheap blackjack tables, it’s a tough place to love. At least you can still get unbelievably good sandwiches at White House Sub Shop on Arctic and Mississippi. I took mine to go.