Sunday, September 25, 2016

The Sightseeing Complication


There is a Yiddish proverb that states: "Man plans, God laughs."

My traveling experiences tend to land on the less-planned and less-touristy side of the scale.

We generally travel for two things: hockey and work.

It was due to a work trip that we found ourselves in Washington D.C. last Saturday. We were flying out of Reagan National at around 5 p.m., and had some time to spare before departure.

I had never been to our nation's seat of power before, and hoped to quickly traverse some national landmarks before we left.

It started out well. We got up at 8 a.m., showered and were all crisp and clean for breakfast at the Courtyard by Marriott in Crystal City (strawberry french toast, anyone?)

Bridget had talked the manager into an additional hour before checkout due to our room's Bose Wave Radio inadvertently sounding the alarm at 5 a.m.

We hopped on the hotel shuttle to the nearest metro station, ready to take in some sights. Easy peasy, right? 



Warm, dark, subterranean spaces might not be my thing.

I tend to be an anxious traveler. I'm a light sleeper as a general rule, and professional conferences can be mentally draining events. Add in eating copious amounts of unhealthy (but delicious) food, and the recipe can be less than ideal.

As we were waiting for the train on the platform, I started to feel ill.

I had felt a tad queasy after breakfast, and the feeling didn't improve as we were standing among a large throng waiting for the train (many decked in BYU gear, in town to attend a football game).

An urge to use the restroom took hold, and I felt trapped. The humidity was oppressive, and I felt dizzy.

I told Bridge I needed to use the restroom. The problem was that the train was nearing our platform, and it would be another 20 minutes until another one arrived. We'd already lost an hour between eating breakfast, riding the shuttle and waiting for the first train to arrive.

But I needed a restroom. So we exited the platform and rode the escalator upstairs.

A very nice manager on duty was kind enough to unlock a special area so I could use the restroom.

She told me, "I understand. I have high blood pressure. When I gotta go, I gotta go. There's no piddlin' around for 10 minutes."

Relieved and freshened up, we tried again.

Fewer people waiting on the second attempt, and the air felt less heavy. This time, we got on the train successfully, and traveled to the "Smithsonian" station.

Having never been to D.C., the sight of temporary metal fences around the National Mall didn't seem out of the norm. Neither did masses of people lining those fences. 



I also learned a new sales technique. Street merchants will offer "free" t-shirts -- practically placing them in your hands -- then suggest a very specific donation amount for the merchandise.

We wanted to see the Washington Monument. But the fencing and armed security personnel didn't make the prospect look all that likely.

We found out along the walk that the National Museum of African American History and Culture was having its dedication that morning, and President Obama and President Bush were in attendance.

As we wound our way toward the monument, Bridget asked a staff member if there was a way to get inside.

They informed her that if we went through the security checkpoint, we could get into the dedication, and get closer to the Washington Monument.

At this point you are probably wondering, "How was Jon holding up?"

It had already been a stressful start to the day, but the fresh air had helped. I figured we were this close. History was happening on the other side of that fence, and we were going to be part of the fun.

It isn't every day that a new national museum opens. This looks like it'll be a fascinating addition to the slate of museums offered in the nation's Capitol.

After a bit of "checks and wanding," we were inside the event. We didn't get that close to the festivities, but we could see the stage, hear the music (Stevie Wonder), see images on the video screens, and hear some of the comments during the program.

We also got to climb a little hillock and get our picture by the Washington Monument.

It would have been great to stay, but time was limited.

We wanted to see the White House (which typically would have been a straight trek from the Washington Monument), but were told we'd have to cut over several blocks to get there. No time for that sort of journey.

We headed back to the hotel, grabbed some lunch at a burger joint, then shuttled to catch our flight home.

We didn't get to see some of the touristy destinations we had hoped for, and things didn't go according to plan.

But life isn't about the planned moments wrapped neatly in a perfect bow. Life is about those accidental opportunities that give depth, texture and color to our lives.



Read my previous post: Super Shuttle Is For The Birds

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