Once again, it seems that every drop of moisture in the universe has relocated to our great nation’s capital. I have to accept that if I want to do something such as view our nation’s greatest phallic symbol,I am not unique in this desire, and many things, molecular and human alike, will have the same urge. Universally speaking, DC is a pretty neat place to vacation, so I welcome the visits from other beings, including airborne water particulate.
Our first stop was the Holocaust Museum. It was an incredibly somber place, everything you would expect from a museum detailing one of the more horrific events in human history. Having read about and studied the Holocaust, much of it was not new information, but one thing did catch on my brain. In the 1930’s, when Germany was getting around to implementing their big plans for the Jews, they began with social programs. You can’t just kill a bunch of people without first getting the general public behind you and your plan, so they started with strong PR campaigns against the Jews, and then moved on to stiff segregation practices. They did a little research and decided that the system the U.S. had in place to segregate the races was pretty solid and adopted that. Kind of puts things in perspective.
The cafeteria behind the museum was staffed by comforting, matronly black women who called everyone ‘sweetie’ and ‘baby’ while serving knishes and lox.
The Bureau of Engraving and Printing had the same sort of confusing ticketing system as the capitol, so we looked at the outside of the building and wandered away. In a city so densely packed with tours about the inner machinations of this nation, missing one is hardly noticed. On the other hand, I was not able to purchase a little pack shredded dollar bills equaling $100. My friends are emptier for it.
Easier to get into and much more interesting was the Museum of Natural History. I got to see fossils from many eras, and there is a fantastic trilobite display. A teacher or tour guide of some sort was leading a group of middle-school-aged children through the area of early to mid-age dinosaur fossils. In the course of 30 seconds, she was able to give incorrect information regarding Pteronodons, crocodiles, and birds. I kept my mouth shut because people who interrupt teachers and tour guides only to contradict them usually sound like crackpots, especially if they can’t remember specific sources to cite. Most kids don’t really care about paleobiology the way I do, and not understanding the branches of evolution certainly is not going to hinder their future whitewater raft-style adventures in office politics.
We checked out the gemstones and series of rocks and the like. Various quartzes and rubies and spikey grey things. The Hope Diamond was on display and we all took time to look at it and ponder its colorful history. One ten-year-old child kept repeating in her own special ‘I’m ten years old and I have a logical leg up on all of you adults’ sort of way, “Why is everyone so excited by it? It’s just a pretty necklace.” She may have been right in a long-term-history-of-the-universe way, but in a short-term-human-history way, many of us wanted to donate our socks to be shoved into her mouth to make the noises stop. Not trusting how the DC cops might treat someone who has violated a child with a dirty sock, I left the room before I was further tempted.
Back on the street, I enjoyed a moment of people-watching as I sat and ate my sno-cone and fed the ravenously hungry pigeons. Back on the Metro and back to the hotel for a bit of a rest before we headed out again. The next stop was the National Zoo and a rendezvous with my altogether too witty DC friend. The big attraction at the Zoo is the Panda exhibit. Off we went first thing to see the pandas, but they had already had enough of being cute and round and had wandered into their inner sanctum. Through the door you could see one round panda ass, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this fuzzy ambassador from the east was sending me a somewhat less than diplomatic message. Having had enough of his bad attitude, I moved on.
I got to see a hippo eating lettuce and hay. Hippos don’t seem to chew, their mouths just open and a cubic foot of food disappears before their mouths close. Repeat until the floor is shiny and clean. In another area, a baby elephant lay on its side sleeping. His mom stood nearby protectively so that he could dream about his favorite beach ball. His feet twitched happily and I was glad he was born in the zoo so that his dreams would not be of the savanna or that time he and another baby elephant played with the fallen tree trunk while the herd matrons discussed the best route to the old feeding ground.
We met up with my trendy buddy and off we went for sushi and beer and general happiness. Stories were told, jokes were made, and we played ‘What’s Their Story’ again. It should be noted that my friend kind of dug the waitress in the Looney Toons tie. We speculated on the extent of her wacky tie collection and on dating those in wacky ties. The only thing that could have made the dinner better would have been having my boss with us. His acerbic wit and dry humor would have rounded out the evening nicely.
We ended the evening with a slow drive around the monuments at night. They were very impressive all lit up like that, but none of the pictures turned out (obviously). We also hit town at the same time as a Britney Spears concert let out. It doesn’t bother me when little kids like Britney, that’s kind of her job. Even when the creepy old guys like her, I can appreciate this (it’s creepy, but I can accept it). What I was surprised at was the number of late-teen boys that were at the show. I thought perhaps Korn or Linkin Park had opened for her. Probably not.

One restful night at the Latham, and it was time to check out and head off to see the fishes. The Baltimore National Aquarium was touted as one of the best, and I figured I had no choice but to check it out. It was in fact a very good aquarium, chock full of fish and information and loud screaming children running into me. The best section was the exhibit about fish evolution. Limbs, camouflage, and electrical currents all on display for me. They also had a huge shark and ray tank and a good seahorse setup.
A few hours of fish and fish and kids and fish and it’s time to go. A jaunt around Baltimore and we find the freeway again and Philadelphia awaits us. A stop at the IKEA to say we had been there. Philadelphia seems to be a nice city, but after DC it’s hard to go somewhere and see historical stuff and be impressed. I did get a good picture of a park ranger. I wish I had more to say about Philly, but the Liberty Bell was hidden by construction and Liberty Hall did not have a giant Benjamin Franklin inside to compete with the giant Abraham Lincoln that lords over our great nation’s capitol. I don’t think it’s necessary to make the comparison between the Washington Monument and the wholly inadequate Liberty Bell.
Just to be freakish and obsessive, we had dinner at the Baltimore IKEA. We didn’t buy anything, just ate the meatballs and walked out into a massive Atlantic storm. The way I see it, I live in the tornado belt; there is nothing else that can scare me unless the sky makes like a Hoover and wants to suck me to my doom.
Our new hotel was the Morrison-Clark Inn near Mount Vernon Square. First Milo, our extremely fun Eastern European transplant who loves to travel, greeted us. He checked us in and chatted about traveling around the country. He introduced us to Mohammed, the kindly guy who brought our bags to our room, parked our car and gave us directions around the city. He answered every question we had and lifted a suitcase that was three times the size of him.
After the door closed, everything moved in slow motion as I turned my head and spied an incredible basket of treats on top of a mini fridge that promised to be full of even more tasty treats. A Matrix-style leap across the bed put me at the base of this glorious cornucopia, and I spied a bit of paper that I was sure would tell me that I most certainly deserved to eat everything in this basket and in the fridge and they would selflessly restock as necessary. The world came to a screeching halt as I read the inventory and the PRICES for the treats. Obviously, they just did not understand the situation. I wept. When I lay my head down that night it was on a moist, disappointment-filled pillow.

When you travel for 16 days, it is hard to bring along that many clothes and not look like some crazed midwestern Imelda Marcos groupie. Instead you buy Wisk tablets and pack them away and put on your Old Navy Lounge Pants and make sure your regular pants are in the wash and head down to the creepy laundry room in the parking ramp and get your clothes smelling clean. You have to battle the funk or you will be outcast.
This was one of those humid days we were warned about. Ambassadors for our great nation’s capitol come up to you as you step outside and strap hefty wet sponges to your body. But we were prepared for this and decided that since we had to check out of this hotel and we were not able to check into the next hotel for a few hours, we would pack everything up and just do a driving tour of the city. Humidity may try to oppress me but it can never break my SPIRIT.
The first stop on our driving tour was Red, Hot, and Blue, a Memphis-style BBQ joint in Rosslyn. Damned tasty food, and the iced tea was served sweet and in a pitcher with a straw. It took us a while to find parking, since every meter in the city is out of order. On the upside, though, DC meters accept nickels and dimes as well as quarters. In Minneapolis, the meters only accept quarters and popsicle sticks.
After lunch, we waded through the humidity back to the car and stopped at Arlington National Cemetery. Arlington is a national shrine and sacred ground. This is something that I can appreciate. Children and preteens could not care less about this place. It’s not that I think that kids are heartless nowadays, it’s just that this doesn’t register for them as interesting. I really felt bad for the kids having to stand out there in this humidity. I didn’t even bother going to see JFK’s grave. I wanted to, but I chose to battle the humidity from my car, so I just stood at the bottom of the hill and took pictures.
We drove up and down Embassy Row after that. Just back and forth screaming the names of the embassies and giggling at them. Why were we giggling? I don’t know! It just seemed like the thing to do when you saw the embassy of Norway or the embassy of Brasil.
This, that, and the other thing led us to the great disappointment known as Chinatown. The only thing that really makes this Chinatown is that they made the Starbucks sign up in Chinese. Nice effort, guys, but you still lose. They even had a BBQ restaurant. BBQ? In Chinatown? Well, time’s up, guys, I’m off to my hotel.
The Latham Hotel is all about swankitude. Belgian linens, fluffy towels on a towel warmer, cobblestone hallways and Citronelle right down the hall. Feeling the need to be decadent, we cancelled our dinner reservations at Citronelle and ordered room service. I just love room service, you get to eat swanky food in your pajamas on your bed and you can be a pig about it if you want. I had the salmon and Jen had the cheese plate. Then we curled up together and watched ‘Mothman Prophecies’ and vilified Richard Gere.
Goodnight.

I am a big fan of Dean and Deluca. They do many things right: chocolate-covered ginger, cheese, novelty marshmallows. On the other hand, the things they do wrong they do appallingly wrong, namely their coffee. The iced lattes are bitter, covered in sweet, and insipid without any body. This is how I started my morning.
It had been decided that we would cancel the New York City portion of the trip and stay in DC for the week. We had a number of reasons for this change and a lot of it had to do with the fact that I just loved DC so very much. To make up for the canceling of 3 days in NYC, we decided to spend a day there.
There are many things between our great nation’s capitol and New York City, the slenderest of which is Delaware. The 12 miles of Delaware also cost about $14, 567 to traverse. They justify this highway ass-rape by touting their lack of sales tax. So, essentially, I paid the sales tax for 63 people to shop in Delaware for 9 months. I did not actually shop in Delaware, as I only spent 12 miles in the state. I expect gifts from each of the 63 people whose lives I have made happier. I did purchase a “hamburger” from the Roy Rogers, located in a specially-ordained tollway rest area. This vile “meat” concoction threatened sudden liver failure and terminal blindness if I finished it. I took its threats as a challenge and now I write these updates with the assistance of my specially-trained helper hippo.
On the other hand, the New Jersey Turnpike was quick and easy and the ticket told me exactly how much I would be paying at the end of my trip. No surprises here. There were signs telling me that when the lights were flashing there would be an important announcement on the turnpike radio station. The lights flashed and I tuned in only to hear announcements about transmission locations and gratitude for using the New Jersey Turnpike. For this I turned off my music. Many threats were made regarding my fist and the New Jersey Turnpike Informational Radio Station, but no one who heard me cared.
I zipped us happily and painlessly across Staten Island and into Brooklyn, where I handed the keys to Jen so I could take over photography duty. On the other side of the Battery Tunnel, we found ourselves in the middle of WTC land. It was certainly unexpected and very eerie. Where once there were giant buildings there is now a hole. One great big hole. Surrounding this hole are the attempts of people to memorialize not just the event but the individuals they lost there. We did not stop, but I did look at the faces of people there. There was never an expression of wonderment or awe, but always one of respect mixed with grief, fear and confusion.
After this, we inspected the various neighborhoods, taking pictures of everything that looked even mildly interesting. We also played another round of “What is that smell?” This time it was the special “Bodily Fluids and Secretions Edition” (as opposed to the “What Did You Leave In The Humidity Edition”). Even with our Minnesota plates (or perhaps because of them), we only got honked at twice. And really, I am surprised. I watched how you New Yorkers drive and I have two bits of advice that you should follow before you decide to honk at me again:
* Learn to use your turn signals! It’s that lever on the left side of the steering wheel, it sends a signal to the other motorists indicating the direction you wish to maneuver your car.
* Even if you don’t like the way the traffic is flowing, you still have no excuse for making a u-turn in the middle of a block into oncoming traffic, ESPECIALLY if your automobile is so unwieldy that you can not gracefully make the turn in one movement, but must stop and reverse and straighten out your car. I would not mention this if I had only seen it once, as there is always one bad asshole in every barrel, but I saw this 4 times. 3 of which were with minivans.
We had to turn around a lot and backtrack a few times, but all in all we had a good map and we saw everything we came to see without getting out of the car once.
Back on the turnpike and this time the radio station redeemed itself by telling me that there was an enormous backup at the Delaware border and I would benefit from taking an alternate route. The kindly man even went on to detail my route options. I imagine the backup was caused by motorists, irate at having to give Delaware so much for so little, rioting and looting in that obnoxious punk state. Good for them.
Too tired for any other option, we ordered room service and and rented a movie and retired for the evening.