(By Tom Jackman and Michael Rosenwald, Washington Post Magazine, 10 January 2012)
Post bloggers Mike
Rosenwald (Rosenwald,
Md.) and Tom Jackman (The State of NoVa
) got together for a beer in neutral territory, a bar in the District, and
immediately began comparing their respective states. Things started off
politely enough. But gradually, the conversation turned, and the insults began
to fly. The exchange went something like this:
***
Tom (Va.): Hey, Mike,
sorry I’m late. Didn’t want to give up my parking spot on the Beltway there at
Tysons Corner.
Mike (Md.): Well, at
least you didn’t have to dodge the speed cameras, since Virginia doesn’t have
them. In Maryland, even our speed cameras have cameras, to prevent vandalism.
Tom: Don’t feel too bad.
Virginia is always devising new forms of Traffic Hell. Now we’ve built
HOT lanes. This means you can pay good HOT money to sit in traffic. But
only on the Virginia side, I guess. In Maryland, you can sit in traffic for
free.
Mike: Not true! I pay $6
on the new Intercounty Connector for the advantage of bypassing the Beltway
and cutting a whole six minutes off the time it takes to get to my in-laws’ in
Baltimore. Why does it cost so much?
I think it’s because the underpasses have dark, luxurious bricks. Officials call them “earth-toned.” The road is basically an extension of Whole Foods, with Whole Foods prices.
I think it’s because the underpasses have dark, luxurious bricks. Officials call them “earth-toned.” The road is basically an extension of Whole Foods, with Whole Foods prices.
Tom: On the inner loop in
Virginia,
I have seen people take up smoking, become addicted and then quit all in one trip. We call this showing state spirit.
I have seen people take up smoking, become addicted and then quit all in one trip. We call this showing state spirit.
Mike: Well, tobacco
always has been important to Virginia.
Tom: Yup. Just look at
our great monument, the towering cigarette shrine outside the Philip Morris
plant on I-95 in Richmond. We are here to fill all your tar and nicotine needs.
Mike: Don’t feel too bad.
At least you have decent wine to enjoy along with those cancer sticks. You have
almost four times as many wineries as we do, and they turn out a better
product. Maryland vintages are lucky to be labeled “table wine.” And if you
want to buy wine in a grocery store over here, you will basically have to amend
the state constitution.
Tom: You know, if we were
meeting at a bar in Northern Virginia, I could keep my handgun
legally stuffed in my pocket. Just in case some drunk, or Orioles fan (or
are they the same thing?), wanted to give me some lip. Are there any bars over
in Maryland where I can pack heat?
Mike: No. We prefer to
settle our disputes by lobbing insults, sometimes on our license plates, such
as that Redskins fan’s CWBYSUK
tag, which made the news a few months ago.
Tom: And I thought it was
Virginians who were the gentlemen.
Mike: Besides, we don’t
have that many bars anymore, as you probably define them. We’ve grown out of
them. We have tasting-menu places, though. They serve a lot of artisanal,
locally grown haricots vert. So, you might not be able to pack heat, but you
can pack wine. The corkage fee is about 10 bucks.
Tom: They charge you $10
to take the cork out of the bottle? If we still used corks, that would really
hurt. Twist-off technology has taken root here in the Old Dominion. After all,
we’re classy. Look at Michaele
Salahi. First, she went uninvited to a White
House state dinner, then she was a “Real Housewife,” then she dumped her
wannabe winemaker husband for an over-the-hill Journey guitarist. Thankfully,
she left the state, but we’re still stuck with her ex, Tareq Salahi, who, get
this, is running
for governor.
Mike: Hey, you have the
Salahis. We have Dan
Snyder. In classiness terms, he makes Michaele Salahi look like Condoleezza
Rice.
Tom: At least you have
Snyder’s Redskins. We have them only for practice and office space. Oh, and on
our roads, because they mostly live over here, where they keep our cops tied up
issuing traffic tickets and arresting them when they get out of their trucks to
punch
someone in the face.
Mike: That reminds me.
I’ve been meaning to ask you what’s it like to not have a major professional
sports team. You know what other state doesn’t have a pro team? North Dakota.
Also, Idaho.
Tom: Virginia had a pro
team once, the Virginia Squires of the ABA. Dr. J and George Gervin played for
them. But there was not enough cocaine in all of Virginia for the Squires, so
they folded. That was never a problem for Maryland, where the Bullets spent
many years.
Mike: Speaking of crime,
your major export, according to New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg, is guns. Are
you trying to get rid of them because you secretly agree that they’re sort of,
oh, ... deadly? Over here, the subject of guns is generally limited to
conversations such as: “Did you know the NRA is based in Virginia?” Reply: “Oh,
my God. It makes sense if you think about it.”
Tom: What does Maryland
export? Chickens to China? If some drunk doesn’t kill 70,000
chickens at once, as happened this summer. You wouldn’t catch a Virginian
doing that.
Mike: But you have no
compunction about killing criminals.
Tom: You’re right, we do
excel at that. Why do you think that, when the D.C. snipers were arrested, they
were sent to Virginia for prosecution, though they did most of their killing in
Maryland? Because we get the job done. Seven years later, John Muhammad was
dead. Proposed motto: “Virginia: You Kill Us, We’ll Kill You Back.”
Mike: You already have a
bloodthirsty motto: Sic semper tyrannis. I looked it up. It means, “Thus always
to tyrants.” I wonder: Is that why you allow guns in bars?
Tom: Yes, though if you
want to mirror the motto, you want to use a sword, not a gun, to stab the
offender then stand on his chest. That’s the image on our
state seal and state flag, a woman with a sword standing on someone’s chest.
But it’s got character, at least. Your flag looks like a second-grader threw up
on a spinning paint wheel. What is that thing? And your motto is “Fatti maschii
parole femine.” Know what that means? “Manly deeds, womanly words.”
Mike: It’s our unofficial
state motto. And don’t start with me about manliness. You guys love bragging
about being patriots and about your eight presidents. But I never hear a peep
about William Henry Harrison, the Virginian who didn’t wear a hat in the cold
rain during his inauguration. He caught a bad cold and died 31 days later.
Embarrassed?
Tom: I’ll take eight
presidents, including the founders of our country, over zero. Maryland hasn’t
had any presidents because its top politicos — Marvin Mandel, Spiro Agnew,Jack
Johnson, Jack
Johnson’s wife — get indicted first. Your state motto should be “Maryland:
You wanna play, you gotta pay.”
Mike: Speaking of
playing, at least you can gamble
in Maryland. The only gambling Virginia has is under-the-tailgate betting
at those Gold
Cup horse races held outside in a giant pasture, where you have to wear
weirdly large hats or pants with suspenders.
Tom: You do more than
gamble. You’re trying to make gaming a new Maryland sport. But your casinos
have electronic blackjack tables, where cards are dealt on a screen by an
avatar. Who is going to leave West Virginia for that?
Tom: And the blurter
of that word promptly lost
an election he had in the bag. Maybe he was taking tips from William Donald
Schaefer, who was never shy with an insult. He called one of his opponents Old
Mother Hubbard.
Mike: Okay, enough about
politics. As a fat guy, I want to talk about food. For a “Southern” state, your
barbecue isn’t that good. Actually, I’ve squeezed better barbecue sauce out of
a McDonald’s packet.
Tom: What? Virginia’s got
all sorts of great food, in addition to our Chesapeake Bay crabs, which I’m
told they have in Maryland, too. We’ve got the world-famous Smithfield ham, the
renowned Virginia peanut, our 200-plus wineries and many great apple farms.
Virginia is one of the biggest apple-producing states in the nation, and
Winchester is called “the Apple Capital of the World.” Farther east, we’ve got
great seafood. Farther west, we’ve got great moonshine. And you’ve got ...
crabs.
Mike: Yeah, well, if your
state is as tasty as you allege, then why is your official state beverage ...
milk?
Tom: Nice try, Food Boy.
So is yours.
Mike: Okay, why do
Virginians insist on making Maryland kids envy Virginia kids? I mean, why would
my kid like your kid if your kids don’t go back to school until after Labor
Day?
Tom: We don’t see any use
in overdoing the whole “education” thing. So, we’ve passed a law that public
school cannot start before Labor Day, which allows folks plenty of time
to pay good money to have their stomachs upset on the rides at Kings Dominion.
An amusement park vs. school. C’mon, if you were a child, which one would you
choose?
Mike: There’s that word
“dominion” again. Old Dominion, Kings Dominion. You guys seem to have a strange
affinity for it, considering that you lost the Civil War.
Tom: You mean the War
Between the States? Maybe. But y’all lost the tourism battle. Thousands of
people have flocked to Prince William County the last two summers to re-create
the spectacle of our Southern soldiers scoring upset victories over the
visiting team from the United States in the first and second Battles of
Manassas.
Mike: Don’t you mean
first and second Bull Run? The winner gets to name the battles, you know.
Tom: Whatever they’re
called, we’re making money off them. We like to look on the bright side of
trying to start our own country. It’s called leveraging our losses.
Mike: Leverage. Isn’t
that the favorite term of every U-Va. biz school grad? I heard that word a lot
during the financial crisis, which reminds me: Why do you guys foreclose on
houses so fast? Is this another feature of “Sic semper tyrannis”?
Tom: Maybe in Maryland
it’s okay to buy a house you can’t afford, not put a dime down, then squat
there indefinitely. In Virginia, however, we
discourage that. As a result, our economy is moving on, while Maryland’s
languishes. I’ll take moving over languishing.
Mike: Let’s get back to
tourism. Every time I see a “Welcome to Virginia” sign, the seventh-grader in
me wants to point out the word “virgin” in Virginia.
Tom: Is that the best you
can do? This is turning into a rout. Sorta like the Battles of Manassas, both
the original and the rematch.
Mike: You mean Bull Run.
Tom: Fine. Whatever. I’m
tired.
I’m possibly also out of material.
I’m possibly also out of material.
Mike: Me, too. I mean,
using “virgin” as an insult? That was just weird.
Tom: I’m going home.
Mike: See you in traffic.
Tom: Watch out for those
speed cameras.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/magazine/which-state-is-better-maryland-or-virginia-washington-post-bloggers-square-off/2013/01/04/a07465dc-fcfa-11e1-8adc-499661afe377_story.html
Fairfax County
has long been viewed as the ultimate burb, where Washington goes to walk the
dog and water the lawn. But the more residents look around, the more they see
what many have tried to avoid: high-rise offices, blight, crime and housing
that's more likely to have a balcony than a back yard. That changing reality came into focus last
week when County Executive Anthony H. Griffin raised the possibility of
officially making Fairfax
a city, prompting discussion among county supervisors about whether the
community of more than 1 million residents should highlight its status as an
enormous jobs center that is rapidly urbanizing or embrace its classic suburban
nature.
To Be or Not to
Be Fairfax County?
That Is the Question Residents, Leaders Ask in the Increasingly Urban Suburb
That Is the Question Residents, Leaders Ask in the Increasingly Urban Suburb
(By Sandhya Somashekhar and Amy Gardner, Washington
Post, July 5, 2009)
The basis for
the idea is largely tactical -- under state law, cities have more taxing power
and greater control over roads than counties do -- and it led to more than a
few snickers about the thrilling nightlife in downtown Fairfax (punch line:
there isn't any). Regardless of whether
the county changes its status, a process that requires approval from voters,
the state and courts, the discussion underscored a growing tension within
Virginia's largest jurisdiction. What does Fairfax want to be? A giant urban expanse
like many new Sun Belt cities? Or more of a residential suburb, with a handful
of urbanized pockets sprinkled in?
The Fairfax of today is
somewhere in between. Its 400 square miles include a sea of cul-de-sacs, parks,
pools and soccer fields, especially in its southern and western stretches.
McLean and Great Falls
remain high-end havens for some of the region's most exclusive addresses.
Clifton still feels like the country. Meanwhile, dense, Arlington County-style urban
villages are quickly claiming the skylines of Vienna, Merrifield and
Springfield, and county plans envision those and other developments ballooning
over the next decade. Tysons Corner is already an economic and commercial
behemoth, and it's only going to get bigger as development clusters around the
Metrorail extension. The Route 1 corridor and other pockets are increasingly
marked by blight.
On an uncrowded
weekday afternoon at Old Keene Mill Swim and Racquet Club in Burke last week, Fairfax 's still-shining
suburban glory was on display. A gaggle of children with rackets under their
arms ran up a hill to tennis courts. A mother coated her daughter with
sunscreen by the pool, where a few dozen kids splashed and adults sat under
giant umbrellas. Another mother walked from her car with packets of hot dogs
and buns toward the club's grills and picnic tables. "I personally would hate to see any more
of a city feel to Fairfax County," Nancy Ohanian, 52, said while floating
on foam noodles with her 9-year-old daughter. "We're losing so many trees.
And I sure don't want to see my taxes go any higher."
For these
families, Burke is their corner of suburban bliss, a community so complete that
they rarely venture more than a mile or two beyond their homes. "It had all the ingredients that I wanted
for my family," said Mary Holden, 46, a mother of four. "My kids'
schools, their sports teams, their friends, the shopping -- it's all here. I
can go a whole week not ever leaving Burke, quite happy." Holden and others probably would be quite
unhappy if they ventured about 10 miles north to Merrifield. There, two sleek
new five-story apartment buildings rise from a weedy parking lot. The bottom
floor of one building is taken up by restaurants, a jewelry store and a tailor.
The sound of nearby traffic roars as workers in scrubs from the nearby hospital
brush past women with strollers and groups of young men.
It was in
Merrifield that county leaders celebrated their newest "park" last
month -- a brick-lined plaza with a fountain and some benches centered between
new apartment buildings. It's just that
kind of urban feel that attracted residents such as Duy Anh Huynh. "I
definitely think of Fairfax
as a city. It's awesome, very vibrant," Huynh, 34, said after picking up
dinner at a burrito joint within walking distance of his apartment. Many policymakers and planners believe Fairfax
has no choice but to continue to grow along the Merrifield model. The alternative
is for the same suburban development patterns to worsen traffic, pollution and
sprawl -- or for the growth that is expected to continue regionwide to pass Fairfax by. After that
comes decline, they say. "What
would you rather do, leave it the way it is?" asked Robert E. Lang, author
of the book "Edgeless Cities" and co-director of the Metropolitan
Institute at Virginia Tech. "It's neither fish nor fowl. They are going to
be out-citied by Arlington
and out-countried by Loudoun."
None of this
means that redevelopment of Tysons or any other corner of Fairfax guarantees success. Politicians,
planners and nervous neighbors are acutely aware of the perils of building up:
more traffic if commuting patterns don't change; higher taxes to pay for the
massive foundation of infrastructure that must be built; and, eventually,
blight if Fairfax's new urban spaces or overall economy don't thrive. So far, Fairfax has been fortunate to escape
many of the downsides of urbanization. The percentage of people living in
poverty has declined slightly this decade, and average income, fueled by an
explosion in federal contracting and the technology industries, has risen. Crime, notably robbery, ticked up in 2007, the
most recent year for which data are available, but it followed a national trend
and remains well below national averages.
The one
typically urban issue Fairfax
is grappling with is neighborhood blight. Old neighborhoods such as Kings Park
along Braddock Road
or Huntington
along Route 1 have been struggling with decline. Unkempt rented homes and
falling property values dot these landscapes. Some areas, such as the partly
vacant mall in downtown Springfield, have developed such an unsavory reputation
that several of the mothers in Burke said they do not allow their teenage
children to go there. County leaders say
their plans to redevelop such places as Tysons and Springfield will help
reverse such decline rather than precipitate it. They say the central perils of
building up are the impacts on surrounding neighborhoods, not rising crime or
declining schools. "Whether we like
it or not, change is coming to Fairfax County," said Supervisor John C.
Cook (R-Braddock). "We are urbanizing. That doesn't mean that anything has
to change for the residents of Clifton
or Braddock, but staying static is not an option."
In reality, an
official redesignation from county to city is no simple task. Experts say it
would be the largest such effort in modern Virginia history, and county leaders
might prefer a more subtle route to achieve their goal of improving their
transportation network, a task they say the state has failed to do. If Fairfax does become a city, it would
instantly become one of the largest in the nation, the size of San Antonio or
San Jose. It would also diverge
dramatically from the stereotype of the gritty metropolis. Fairfax enjoys many of the benefits -- wealth
and jobs -- and few of the detriments -- crime, troubled schools -- of a large
urban center. With a median household income of $105,000, it is the wealthiest
large county in the nation. Among large school systems, it boasts the highest
test scores. And it has the lowest murder rate among the nation's 30 largest
cities and counties.
Still, the city
label doesn't quite fit for some community leaders. Supervisor John W. Foust
(D-Dranesville) represents the largely suburban area around McLean
and Herndon, where some residents worry that transformation in nearby Tysons
will worsen traffic in their neighborhoods. The cul-de-sac lifestyle they have
chosen is still the one that defines Fairfax, he said. "I think the county form serves us pretty
well," he said. "Future growth will be more urban, but we've got a
huge population that has chosen a suburban model."
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