There never seems to be a dull moment at Union Station. When I arrived there on the bus this morning, I noticed this giant, oversized food thing near the Metro entrance. It turned out to be a decidedly oversized advertisement promoting the Oreo Cakester. There was also a stage set up nearby, and I can’t imagine what’s being planned for this today. I think I gained back the 12 pounds I recently lost just looking at this.

Last night, I went to dinner at Pizzeria Uno in Union Station on my way home. They sat me in the Senator’s Booth.

Here’s an update of sorts on the small park that recently had shrubs chopped and benches dismantled.

Whomever owns the land — I assume it’s whomever manages the adjacent building — posted a sign indicating the plot of land is off limits to the public at large.

I wonder if they’ll redo the landscaping. It could use a little freshening up.

Last night, I enjoyed a long-overdue meal with my friend Gerry, whom I hadn’t seen in a long while. When he swung by my office to collect me, he suggested we go to Bistrot du Coin, a French place north of Dupont Circle. I’ve been in a dining rut lately, so I figured why the hell not.

After a significantly longer-than-expected wait, we finally sat in a cramped table near the back of the main dining room. Normally, I’d complain about such tight quarters, but it afforded me a rather unusual view: the kitchen, unobstructed. Not that I had much reason to look back there — Gerry and I had much catching up to do — but I noted it as interesting.

Until a few years ago, I was often hesitant about going to a French restaurant. Previous experiences featured insanely limited menus of stuff I wouldn’t want to come across in nature, let alone my dinner plate. But Bistrot’s menu was extensive and, to my surprise, moderately priced. I opted for the Gratinée des Halles (French onion soup) to start; Onglet à l’échalotte (a hangar steak, cooked rare, with fries and a sweet shallot sauce) as the main course; and for desert, Mousse au chocola a ma facon (a very rich chocolate mousse, dusted with cocoa powder).

The dinner was amazing, the service was prompt, the decor was eclectic-but-not-crazy like Friday’s or Ruby Tuesday’s. The long wait and cramped seats were long forgotten once we consumed our dinners. This was easily one of the best dining experiences I’ve had in D.C. in a long while. As we left, I wondered why I hadn’t eaten there before.

I see a return trip in my future.

After I arrived at the office, I headed down to the cafe across the street to grab a little something for breakfast. When I crossed the street, I noticed the small park I always pass by on the way. It’s a rather unremarkable plot of land — the ground is mostly void of grass, but there’s plenty of shade from the few trees there.

People often ate lunch there on nice days, though that trend declined in recent months. A homeless person or two always lived there, but their numbers increased over the last few months. (Perhaps longer, I’m not entirely sure.) The bushes surrounding the park grew rather large and bulky, and the odor of stagnant urine grew stronger… until sometime between last night and this morning, that is.

I suppose the bush trimming and the bench stripping were done to combat the problem, but it seems a bit drastic. Still, one can’t help but notice that it smells less like a public toilet when walking by.