A capital idea: The Hay-Adams hotel in Washington, D.C.

I have seen the White House many times but never seen quite like last time. The lawns were green, almost like they were going to burst into bloom. The Washington Monument was in full view too. In fact, it looked as if it was sitting in the President's back yard.

Later, I looked at the White House through spitting rain, hardly making out its formidable columns. The Washington Monument seemed to have disappeared altogether.

Then, it started to snow. For a long time fluffy white pellets fell on the famous outpost, matching its color and blurring it out of existence. When the snow finally stopped, the White House was back, whiter than ever, the unmistakable residence transformed into a winter wonderland. Amazing.

What was also amazing is that I did all of this watching without ever risking the elements. I didn't suffer a single snow flake or blast of icy air. Instead, I was perched at the perfect vantage point: The 8th floor of my room at the Hay-Adams, a distinctive Washington, D.C. retreat that proclaims it is "where nothing is overlooked but the White House."

After staying there, I agree wholeheartedly. What a find, even for this veteran visitor to the District of Columbia who has been going there for work on a regular basis. I even lived in Washington for a brief time during the Carter administration while I attended graduate school.

So for me to go on and on and on about the White House would have been a bit over the top had it not been for the fact that I was in residence at the Hay-Adams. In fact, my room was just one floor up from where the late Peter Jennings used to report the news with the White House in the background. Know this: That was not a fake backdrop. It was the real thing as seen from the Hay-Adams.

The rarified Italian Renaissance retreat serves the business traveler very well with efficient service and plenty of splendor, reminding me a little of the Hassler in Rome without all those Spanish Steps to climb.

Many of the Hay-Adams amenities also have an Italian heritage, like the custom made linens found in each of the 145 guest rooms. Also in residence is an intimate lobby sporting oak paneling and carved Georgian chairs situated in conversational groupings. To the left of the lobby and up only half a dozen stairs, the lavish Lafayette Room serves fine American fare underneath giant crystal chandeliers.

My favorite place to dine on the premises was, however, in my room. On the night the snow fell, I ordered a Mediterranean platter which came with a huge pot of spicy hummus, a good supply of pita bread and four of the most savory baby lamb chops I have ever come across.

Whether eating from room service or in the Lafayette, I am in good company for having chosen to stay at the Hay-Adams. Past guests since the hotel opened in 1928 include such seasoned travelers as Amelia Earhart, Charles Lindburgh and Ethyl Barrymore.

Also of note at today's Hay-Adams: A clubby, below-ground bar lounge called Off-The-Record where numerous important deals have been sealed; the Rooftop Terrace for private gatherings and the best view ever of the place where the President lives (in fact, Secret Service clearance is necessary before anyone is allowed access); and a team of Washington, D.C.'s finest concierges who are as quick with good advice as they are with their charm.

In fact, I found everyone working at the completely renovated Hay-Adams to very good at their jobs, no matter what the position. Perhaps the most memorable (and most fun) was the bellman who showed me my room. As I checked out the digs, we chatted--a light and cheery conversation from which I learned a lot about the attributes and heritage of the Hay-Adams.

I also learned that the mini-bar is not to be tampered with should one even think about storing his or her own libations in the refrigerated space. Indeed, according to the kind staffer who brought up my bags, I would be charged even if I moved one of their bottles to put mine in instead.

This happens because as soon as the container is released from its position, a sensor is set off to let the powers that be know that the mini-bar has, indeed, been used. A great trick I'm glad I didn't fall for. What I am glad I did fall for is the Hay-Adams, perhaps the best hotel in Washington, D.C.