Dazzling Ducks
Rosa and I started off with the usual breakfast tag teaming. The elevator opening on the way down revealed a welcome desk on the third floor. It was for a cross species asthma conference.
Or when we would glance away from our dish for a moment.
They might want to work on that placement.
Or maybe that was the point they were shooting for?
In case we found out they were important later.
This is possibly due to how massive the Capitol is, or simply because I am a buffoon.
Plus, there were STAMPS! Woo!
The Memorial did an excellent job of conveying the enormity of that war. Quotes from various leaders were everywhere, along with references to all the states, territories and countries that were involved. Unlike the Korea and Vietnam memorials which listed all the names of those lost, The World War II Memorial had a wall full of gold stars. Each star represented a hundred dead. It was an all around a sobering and relevant site.
Because it had been completely empty and reflectless for her Eighth Grade Trip.
THERE WERE SO MANY DUCKS!
The idea was to honor the notion that if the American Revolution went sideways, those people would have all been killed.
I am aware how little anyone else cares.
We also encountered a new bit of the
natural world:
A blue jay eating a Cheez It.
Mr. History’s lessons continued to guide
our way. Before we reached the Vietnam Memorial proper, we detoured into the
little grove to find the Vietnam Women’s Memorial. We did agree with him that
it had to be a tribute to the Pieta, and it was incredibly moving. It
was also covered with Scrunchies for reasons that neither we, nor Mr. History
had any idea about. It is unlikely there is any connection
to the same phenomenon occurring at the top of the Expedition Everest roller
coaster, but weirder things have been linked in our lives.
A little further brought us to the main
Vietnam Memorial, and it definitely does work better in daylight. With full
visibility it was clear that the three men in the statue are looking sadly down
at the wall itself. Vietnam was recent enough that Veterans are still truly
part of the Memorial. We saw a man with a long pointer solemnly reaching up to
identify the name of his best friend’s brother.
Throughout our walks I was getting texts detailing the latest disaster at work and asking me questions. However, my surroundings gave me the perspective needed to know I truly had nothing to complain about.
Before going to the Lincoln Memorial, we
made stops behind it. First, on the side we were on, we crossed the street to
find the Einstein Statue. His nose was extra shiny because students rub it
before exams for luck.
I’m sure Professor Einstein would be
honored to know his likeness is used as yet another excuse to believe in
superstition and not to study.
One element not mentioned about the luck
of Einstein’s nose, is that it is upon a metal statue. Due to the sun shining
on that nose, and indeed the rest of him, he gets dangerously hot. Anabelle
took some mighty uncomfortable photographs before relaying this information to us
and forcing a change in strategy.
Behind the Lincoln Memorial my family
determined it was now the proper time for ice cream. Rosa had a strawberry bar
while Anabelle enjoyed a King Kone.
We saw some statues on the side of the
road and walked over toward what we believed was the Watergate Hotel. It turned
out we misunderstood Mr. History, the Navicomputer, each other, and geography
in general.
We walked a lot and were tired.
I also have no idea what the statues
were of. As usual, my documentation skills were a wonder. (As in, “I wonder
what that thing we saw was?”)
What we were heading toward was
Watergate Steps, allowing a view of the river, which we could already see from
where we stood. The Watergate Hotel itself was stupid far across said river.
A blue jay eating a Cheez It.
Throughout our walks I was getting texts detailing the latest disaster at work and asking me questions. However, my surroundings gave me the perspective needed to know I truly had nothing to complain about.
We walked a lot and were tired.
Instead, we doubled back to my favorite, the Lincoln Memorial. It is always bigger than I remember. This lends more credence to the previously mentioned “buffoon” theory.
Hey, the states are in order of joining the Union around the top edge, not random.
Buffoon.
From in front of the memorial, Rosa got her own finger on top of the Washington Monument picture. Yes, Anabelle took it.
Hey! There’s an exhibit in there!
(An apt description for the whole city.)
I am hilarious.
“I found the slide! Weeeeeee!”
This is as good a point as any to
indicate that, because it was May, we couldn’t take three steps near any of the
big attractions without the risk of tripping over someone taking Cap and Gown
Graduation photos.
Anabelle learned “Kisses for Abe Lincoln”
photos are much harder to get in the daylight, but eventually succeeded, to
finish her series.
Anabelle completes our hilarious trio.
On our way down the stairs, we got a
better look at the marker commemorating where Martin Luther King made his
speech. Whatever mysterious stain was on it in the evening had been cleaned up.
Hooray!
At the bottom of the steps, I took one
last close up look at the Lincoln Memorial…
And realized, it’s a temple.
Anabelle completes our hilarious trio.
Hooray!
And realized, it’s a temple.
Much like the folks who commissioned and created the Apotheosis of George Washington painting in the Capitol Dome, I don’t think those who made this really understood the man they were honoring.
Then I had to get another cup of ice for her.
Rosa- “Did you put sunscreen on?”
Me- “No.”
Rosa- “Why?”
Me- “You never asked if I put sunscreen on.”
Did I mention we walked a lot?
And that I am a buffoon?
I have no idea what this means, but who am I to doubt my notes?
Oh.
Because we took the side access, we didn’t take the steps that go ALL THE WAY down to the Reflecting Pool.
Buffoon.
Any still body of water that shallow is going to be. Being next to it made it more obvious that it was built for reflecting at night.
“We walked East Jeezus over there?!?!”
What I found more impressive was we had walked far further this day and she made no comment about that.
Then we had yet another duck moment.
It was closed.
Once the basking was complete, we walked down the little hill again, and hopped the rail, to gain access to the Washington Monument gift shop.
Woo!
(Spoilers- I should have remembered too.)
It was an oddly shaped museum with an inner and outer square, and we knew there would be back tracking. We passed through a China section with Anabelle telling us, “Don’t look at this stuff,” as she navigated the route featuring a return through that room. A large part of the collection was American art that looked Asian.
If you squinted a lot.
And really believed.
There was also some Teddy Roosevelt
stuff, because
“He’s everywhere.” – Anabelle.
Yes, we were dehydrated, exhausted, over
walked, and in an art museum in the late afternoon.
Just another day in Washington.
We learned the exhibit with The Wave
in it had closed a while ago.
Poo.
Anabelle dubbed the small Egyptian
section boring because there was no William. (The blue hippo that is the mascot
of the MET.)
This museum connected underground to the
“Sackler Gallery of Other Asian Art that Wasn’t in the Freer Plus Some Weird
Modern Stuff.”
Again, I’m paraphrasing.
We saw a display made by someone who doesn’t
know how to make a cow.
There was also Ay O’s “Happy Rainbow Hell.” It was kind of a multicolored, acid trip version of an infra-red camera. There were a bunch of brightly colored stills and an interactive part that was a lot of fun. The photos with (highly distorted) images of naked people had to be cut up into puzzle like sections to make it safely out of China. Can we please all agree to stop voting for those spouting authoritarian, overly puritan believes before they wreck everything?
Thank you.
And really believed.
“He’s everywhere.” – Anabelle.
Just another day in Washington.
Poo.
Again, I’m paraphrasing.
Thank you.
Nearby was a couple of “blind boxes” we
stuck our hands into. There were feathers, or air blasts, or something in them.
It was Anabelle’s favorite part. Meanwhile, I was standing there having anxiety
attacks remembering the Gom Jabbar trial from Dune.
There was something else in that room that prompted Anabelle to state, “It’s a bong.”
As the evidence shows, it was a highly
cultural afternoon.
Knowing the rest of my extended family well, we
decided this would be the perfect place to get souvenirs for most of them, as
there was no chance they would have visited this museum.
We were right!
Anabelle also scored a pair of fancy, origami crane looking earrings.
As the museum threw us out, we noticed
merchandise from The Wave still available.
We reached the end of operating hours
with some disappointment in an art museum.
Again, again, again.
The little map stand informed us if we passed
around the Smithsonian Castle there was a fountain.
As it turned out, we had seen it on the way in, but since there was no water in it, we didn’t recognize its fountainness.
Alas.
Rosa got some more pictures of, and with,
the Butt of Freedom again as she fawned over her beloved Capitol building one
last time. Anabelle and I sat in the mall to order our dinner from Chopt. I had
learned my lesson from the hotel food fiasco the other night.
We picked up our order. Food in hand, we
stopped in Wawa to grab some PowerAde for my dehydrated carcass and chips as a
side for all of us.
A possibly homeless, but very cordial,
individual appointed himself as door man and was excessively friendly to all
who entered or left. It was well worth the tip.
On the way back home, a young couple
with several suitcases asked if we knew where the Metro station was. Between
the two of them and the three of us, every map available, including digital and
paper, indicated it was exactly on that corner.
However, none of us could find any evidence of it, and we had to leave them to their own devices in more ways than one.
Rosa and Anabelle had decided to stop at
a place nearby called “Potbelly” for shakes. At first, I was upset that I was
settling for Chopt since it sounded like a barbeque place. After seeing the
menu, I realized that this time I had made the right decision.
Potbelly was out of Oreo shakes but the
two women thought the strawberry ones were excellent, and the chocolate one I
had made a fine dessert.
Back at the hotel, the lobby tables
where the theoretical restaurant existed served our purposes for dinner. Rosa
went up to the room to grab the rest of her Mushroom burger from the night
before.
While she did, I downed most of the PowerAde bottle instantaneously.
Anabelle mocked me, pointing out that even when thirsty, she drinks (and milkshakes more so) like she’s savoring a canteen in a desert, while I guzzle fluids like a caveman.
In another display of our exhaustion
clouding our observation skills, Anabelle was stunned that Rosa’s burger was
made of meat. She figured “mushroom burger” was not, “A burger with mushrooms”
but in fact “a burger made out of mushrooms.” I’m not sure they can do that
yet.
Back at the room there was much packing
and washing up. Anabelle looked up other Yayoi Kusama exhibits and found out
there was one in Manhattan. That led to an Anabelle and Mami day in New York,
which in turn led to her and I seeing Little Shop of Horrors.
When done, Anabelle was playing with
“Abigail Addams the Second,” the googly eyed rock she got from the Art Vending Machine. She described it as, “Five dollars well spent.”
On the television was the San Diego Zoo
show, and more Say Yes to the Dress. Anabelle theorized about Washington
DC wedding locations. First, she thought the Hirschhorn would be the best idea
for a ceremony. This was followed by her definitive pick:
“No… In front of the Giant Blue Chicken.”
I read many comic books while they went
through these exercises. Then Anabelle asked for more Washington DC trivia.
Many of the questions were based on things we had learned that very day. She
did not know the answers because, as I long suspected, “I don’t listen to you.”
Sleep came quickly and with the dryness
of the room really hitting, I was informed my snoring sounded, “Like the lawn
mower, but with less swearing."
20225 steps
7.9 miles
There was something else in that room that prompted Anabelle to state, “It’s a bong.”
We were right!
Anabelle also scored a pair of fancy, origami crane looking earrings.
Again, again, again.
As it turned out, we had seen it on the way in, but since there was no water in it, we didn’t recognize its fountainness.
Alas.
However, none of us could find any evidence of it, and we had to leave them to their own devices in more ways than one.
While she did, I downed most of the PowerAde bottle instantaneously.
Anabelle mocked me, pointing out that even when thirsty, she drinks (and milkshakes more so) like she’s savoring a canteen in a desert, while I guzzle fluids like a caveman.
“No… In front of the Giant Blue Chicken.”
7.9 miles
No comments:
Post a Comment