DC Trippin': Day 1

In the spirit of catching up on blogging, I'm writing about the trip John and I took to DC a little more than a week ago. I'll preface this by saying that, yes, I will be writing more than one probably should about one's vacations. I, however, am an avid travel whore. I fully enjoy any trip I can take, and like to remember it in detail. So I'll brake this up into days of the trip...so that they're a little more consumption (not to mention pic-posting) friendly.

DAY 1...

Our 1st day in DC was an exercise in adaptability. We flew into BWI, which got us to Baltimore nearly 3 hours earlier than the flight to Dulles would have. However, transport from the airport was anything but direct. Normally, there is a MARC train from BWl to Union Station...but we got there on a saturday, and said train doesn't run on weekends. Luckily, there is an express bus from BWl to the green line of the Metro. From the Greenbelt station one could then navigate the Metro to Union Station.

That was the game plan, anyway. And we all know how the saying goes about the best laid plans of our rodent counterparts and us. The 1st wrinkle came when I waited at the carousel for my little black luggage that I shouldn't have bothered checking. (which, had it not been for my contact lens solution bottle being about 9oz over the limit for liquid carry-ons, I wouldn't have). After the last piece of luggage dropped, I got that sinking feeling of dread... mine was still not among the last few riding on the carousel. I walked over to baggage claim and, oddly enough, my bag was sitting there waiting for me. Not sure why or how it had mysteriously migrated to the land of the lost + unclaimed luggage, but I was just happy to see it and didn't ask.

So we headed off to catch the bus, whose stop we couldn't find. We were told where to find the bus by a handsome and friendly limo driver, and we broke into a luggage-encumbered run upon realizing that the bus was about to depart. Panting, we boarded and attempted to give our money to the bus driver, whose machine only took exact change. We spent the rest of the ride pestering our fellow passengers for change for a $20. Finally we got the change we needed and didn't have to get kicked off the bus.

After fumbling with the ticket machine, we hopped the green line and transferred to the red line and made our way to union station. From there we were picked up by the incredibly nice John G., who took us to his house where we would be staying. It was a very lovely house, even if it was in what John himself described as a “transitional“ neighborhood. “Transitional“, he informed me beforehand, translates roughly into: place-where-cab-drivers-may-refuse-to-go.

Later that evening we were joined by John‘s boyfriend Dan at a cute little street cafe type place called Mr. Henry‘s. Dan grew up in DC, and so has an encyclopedic knowledge of the city, its history, and its famous architectural residents. Later, as the 4 of us strolled through the FDR and Jackson memorials, he imparted some of that wisdom.

John G. looking like he's contemplating giving FDR's wheelchair a big foot-shove.

The Jackson Memorial with blurry ghost-like people in front of it. (The ghosts of liberty and ethical rule, perhaps?)

(My) John and I were thinking about going out that night (read: I wanted to hit the bars, given that it was Saturday night in DC-hello Eagle!-, he was beige on the issue). The problem was, in order to secure the 5 days off required for this trip, I had just finished working 2 doubles. Which meant, due to getting up early that morning to make the flight, I had gotten somewhere in the range of 9 hours of sleep out of the last 72. John, wisely, convinced me to stay home despite my whining. All I had to do was SEE a pillow and I went all narcoleptyic.