Tea. What is tea? Technically it is just dried up leaves and roots, right? So what is so special about high tea? I had been to tea services before, but over the past two months I’ve gone with a group of women who make it an especially enjoyable experience. WARNING: THE FIRST PERSON THAT SAYS I’M A SISSY GETS A PURPLE NURPLE.
Let’s travel back in time, shall we? Let’s go back to a time that was tumultuous and in flux; a time when I was employed. During the end of my reign (ooooh! yes, let’s call it a reign!) one of the female factions that I hang out with and I decided that it would be a wonderful time to enjoy tea together. This was an idea that we had tossed around a while back but never got around to doing. So, we do a little bit of research and decide on our target: The Four Seasons in Georgetown. What’s the sports saying? Go big or go home? Well, we set our sites on one of the best known in the area. My accomplices in crime were
And boy, were we excited to go!
(queue the Paul Lynde voice) It was absolutely marvy! The outside of the building was a tad pedestrian with its red brick and clock tower. Upon entering the hotel you are engulfed in the scent of flowers. Dare I say lillies? I dare! I dare! As we were seated the table was adorned with rose petals and our server treated us to sampling the scents of the teas we were about to enjoy. When the tea was delivered it was graciously poured for us and then we were given our serving tray of finger sammiches. As usual, I hawked the salmon ones to others. The sammiches, however, were enough to give your palette something to mull over with the tea. Eventually the scones, biscuits and macaroons came out. Honestly, it was if we were indulging in something absolutely sinful. Many, many thanks to Lila for both kicking our asses into gear to finally do it and for also paying for it.
Fast forward to today. I am no longer employed but I’m happier. The ladies and I had planned to go to the Jefferson Hotel in Washington, DC, for our tea. Coincidentally, this was also Lila’s birthday. Again we were excited because the Jefferson is an older hotel and looked to have lovely accomodations. First things first: I hate driving in DC. Thank you, God, for not having me die in traffic. Lila and I had shown up early while Lisa, Rhonda and Sarah had come in at 3pm on the dot. We also were expecting two others – Jeila and Tuna. Well, Jeila and Tuna hadn’t arrived by 3:15 and I’m a stickler for punctuality. We went ahead and started the service. The tea came out in lovely little white pots. I think we were all a little let down when we had to pour it ourselves (gasp! lazy bastards!). Tuna had finally shown up at about the time sammiches were to be delivered. Well, much like when your mother makes you a lunch for school, the sammiches and the pastries came out together. Don’t get me wrong, the sammiches were decent and the pastries were pretty good. The service, however, sucked my ass. When I worked at a hotel in Va. Beach, I drilled it into each of my staff that everyone’s ass needed to be tenderly coddled because you never knew who the guest was or how important they were. The staff at the Jefferson seemed more intent on servicing the larger party behind us or the older men in their business suits and power ties.
Meh. So far the Four Seasons has the Jefferson beat, hands down.
Tea for us is a very social thing. It is at these gatherings with these very special women that we just let everything out there and have fun. Think of it as a happy hour with no booze. And I think that whenever we do things like this I become one of the girls. Not that there is anything wrong with that, mind you. Case in point: we look for men. I’m already sitting at a table with beautiful women, so why do I need to be scoping out women? Instead, we look for men that fit the ladies’ profile for either a good date, a randy romp in the sack, or we just make up stories about them. The Four Seasons helped facilitate this by having a wide open dining room with an excellent view of everything – the canal, the hotel entrance and lobby, the bar, the main dining area. Oh, we could see and comment on everyone. The Jefferson felt like one of those special rooms where you hold a small party. Meh. God bless you, Rhonda, for being a great sport and picking up the tab.
And the freaking party next to us kept talking about topics that we were talking about! DAMN THEM AND THEIR UNORIGINALITY! But it does go to show how intimate the setting was (re: tight).
Ah, well. Us girls are already planning our next outing for tea in November. As God as my witness, the Mayflower, Ritz or Willard better make us feel like the pretty girls that we are.