7/8 Washington, DC 3397 Miles

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.