Ron simply would not let me drive away from the Marriot until he had our destination programmed into the GPS. He actually yelled at me for trying to exit the city on my own. He claimed I could not possibly drive out of here by following a map without getting lost. I tried to explain that I always drive everywhere using only maps, but Ron insisted on GPS. So I had to listen to Minnie's irritating monotone telling me how to drive the very same route I had already plotted.
Onward we drove. Looking for a change of scenery, we took a more northerly route home--Hagerstown, The Pennsylvania Turnpike, Pittsburgh, The Ohio Turnpike, Youngstown, Cleveland, Toledo, The Indiana Toll Road--finishing up for the day at a Best Western in Elkhart, Indiana. Elkhart is the self-proclaimed RV Capitol of the World. Somewhere around ten RV companies exist within the vicinity of Elkhart. The city, with a population of only 51,000, even houses the Recreational Vehicle and Manufactured Housing Hall of Fame. We did not go to the Hall of Fame because we have a disdain for RV's. We have referred to them as "eyesores" for many years. They have overtaken and uglified campgrounds all across the nation, making it difficult for tenters--REAL campers--to get sites in State Parks, County Parks, National Parks and National Forests. RV-ing is NOT camping. I'm not saying there is no place in the world for RVs. That place is RV parks, not campgrounds. Dan told me that he knows some RV-ers who are too embarrassed to call sleeping in a hard-sided vehicle on wheels "camping," so they refer to it as "weekending." Good for them.
The three of us had dinner together at the Cracker Barrel across the street from the motel. It was the first time I had ever eaten at a Cracker Barrel and I liked it. Better yet was the conversation, the family togetherness, and our recap of the week.
On Sunday morning, we packed up the car and again proceeded westward through South Bend, Gary, Chicago, and Dubuque, stopping in Oelwein just long enough to relate some highlights of the vacation to my mom, Ann, and then Dan did some impressive speeding back to the Twin Cities.
Monday, August 25, 2014
Friday, August 22, 2014
August 22 Part II: Death and Chili
The Arlington National Cemetery was a rather somber affair. The graves of the Kennedy brothers, the eternal flame, people being very quiet (with "Silence and Respect" signs serving as gentle reminders,) the many thousands of little white gravestones among the green grassy hills, the sprinkly rain--it was all kind of depressing.
Then there was the tomb of the unknown soldier. I didn't quite know what to think of the overstated pageantry and precision of the Changing of the Guard. The clicking of the heels, the sharp quarter-turns, the measured forward steps, the repetitive shouldering, un-shouldering, and re-shouldering of the bayonetted rifle, the crisp salutes, the grim faces--it all seemed designed more for the entertainment of the tourists than for actually guarding the tomb. And they make it a ten-minute ordeal.
I commented to Dan, "It seems to me that it would be much easier if one soldier came up to the other one and said, 'Hey, dude, I'm here to relieve you,' and the other one said "Thanks, man,' and he walks away.
"True," Dan agreed, "that would certainly be more efficient."
It took three subway train changes, but we found our way to Ben's Chili Bowl--one of the most famous eateries in Washington D.C. It is a narrow, hole-in-the-wall space in an African-American district of the city that has seen some pretty challenging times. Such famous people as Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole, Redd Foxx, Martin Luther King, Bill Cosby and Barack Obama have eaten here.
Today, it was chaos in there. I suspect it is chaos every day. The place is incredibly busy and overcrowded, customer orders are written up on little pieces of paper, about 10 workers are flying around behind the counter putting together the orders, and, as far as I could see, there was only one cash register. It was nuts in there. And here's the thing: It is NOT a gourmet restaurant. No, it's a diner that basically serves a few variations on chili, hotdogs, chili-dogs, and french fries. I had a bowl of their chile con carne and my only words are "AWESOME! One of the highlights of the trip."
Well, this evening I had another great dining experience. This time the restaurant was called Hot and Juicy Crawfish. No kidding, that was the name. I like Cajun food quite a bit and this place looked pretty authentic. They serve shrimp, crab, crawfish, lobster, clams, etc. by the pound and cooked in hot sauce. (You choose just HOW hot you want it.)
I ordered a pound of shrimp in the medium hot "Juicy Cajun" sauce. The server brought the shrimp to me in a plastic bag along with a piece of corn on the cob, a bib, a roll of paper towels, and a bucket. They were whole shrimps--heads, shells and all. They were messy to eat but absolutely delicious. By the time I was done eating, the paper towel roll was much smaller and the bucket was loaded with shells, corn cob, wet-wipes, and paper. A great experience.
Then there was the tomb of the unknown soldier. I didn't quite know what to think of the overstated pageantry and precision of the Changing of the Guard. The clicking of the heels, the sharp quarter-turns, the measured forward steps, the repetitive shouldering, un-shouldering, and re-shouldering of the bayonetted rifle, the crisp salutes, the grim faces--it all seemed designed more for the entertainment of the tourists than for actually guarding the tomb. And they make it a ten-minute ordeal.
I commented to Dan, "It seems to me that it would be much easier if one soldier came up to the other one and said, 'Hey, dude, I'm here to relieve you,' and the other one said "Thanks, man,' and he walks away.
"True," Dan agreed, "that would certainly be more efficient."
It took three subway train changes, but we found our way to Ben's Chili Bowl--one of the most famous eateries in Washington D.C. It is a narrow, hole-in-the-wall space in an African-American district of the city that has seen some pretty challenging times. Such famous people as Duke Ellington, Miles Davis, Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole, Redd Foxx, Martin Luther King, Bill Cosby and Barack Obama have eaten here.
Today, it was chaos in there. I suspect it is chaos every day. The place is incredibly busy and overcrowded, customer orders are written up on little pieces of paper, about 10 workers are flying around behind the counter putting together the orders, and, as far as I could see, there was only one cash register. It was nuts in there. And here's the thing: It is NOT a gourmet restaurant. No, it's a diner that basically serves a few variations on chili, hotdogs, chili-dogs, and french fries. I had a bowl of their chile con carne and my only words are "AWESOME! One of the highlights of the trip."
Well, this evening I had another great dining experience. This time the restaurant was called Hot and Juicy Crawfish. No kidding, that was the name. I like Cajun food quite a bit and this place looked pretty authentic. They serve shrimp, crab, crawfish, lobster, clams, etc. by the pound and cooked in hot sauce. (You choose just HOW hot you want it.)
I ordered a pound of shrimp in the medium hot "Juicy Cajun" sauce. The server brought the shrimp to me in a plastic bag along with a piece of corn on the cob, a bib, a roll of paper towels, and a bucket. They were whole shrimps--heads, shells and all. They were messy to eat but absolutely delicious. By the time I was done eating, the paper towel roll was much smaller and the bucket was loaded with shells, corn cob, wet-wipes, and paper. A great experience.
 |
| Having fun at Hot and Juicy Crawfish. |
 |
| A bag of shrimp. |
August 22: Animals, Including Humans
Last evening, after Ron's conference convened for the day, the three of us busted the car out of the parking garage for a trip to the Washington National Cathedral. Wow, is that an impressive shack. Not only is it gigantic and ornate, but it's also situated at the highest point in the city so you can see it from everywhere.
The cathedral provides spiritual nourishment, but we sought ACTUAL nourishment at Potbelly's Sandwich Shop. We had a good meal together. At least I know my meatball sandwich was superb.
The Washington National Cathedral--a gothic masterpiece.
Dan wasn't too interested in the National Zoo--another branch of the Smithsonian--so I walked the six blocks there by myself. The zoo didn't officially open until 10:00 a.m. but you can walk through it anytime. At 8:30, I was able to see a bunch of animals with hardly any human animals around. I really like viewing animals, but I do feel sorry for them being in captivity--even if they do have some room to roam like they do in this zoo.
The highlights, of course, were the giant panda and the tiger and the lion. The tiger was certainly the most vocal animal this morning. It would let out a loud roar every 20 seconds or so. I sure am not a tiger translator, but my instincts tell me he was saying, "GIVE ME MY FREEDOM!"
The lion let out a roar as well. I guess that's what big cats do in the morning. It was a more complacent roar than the tiger's as if to say, "I'm not sure if I can escape this place."
I didn't hear a peep out of any other animals. In fact, they hardly moved at all if you don't count the movement of jaws chewing food. I guess most of the animals have given up any hope of being free.
I am the fastest land mammal in the world and I am bored.
I belong in Africa.
Who's the monkey?
Give me freedom!
The cathedral provides spiritual nourishment, but we sought ACTUAL nourishment at Potbelly's Sandwich Shop. We had a good meal together. At least I know my meatball sandwich was superb.
Dan wasn't too interested in the National Zoo--another branch of the Smithsonian--so I walked the six blocks there by myself. The zoo didn't officially open until 10:00 a.m. but you can walk through it anytime. At 8:30, I was able to see a bunch of animals with hardly any human animals around. I really like viewing animals, but I do feel sorry for them being in captivity--even if they do have some room to roam like they do in this zoo.
The highlights, of course, were the giant panda and the tiger and the lion. The tiger was certainly the most vocal animal this morning. It would let out a loud roar every 20 seconds or so. I sure am not a tiger translator, but my instincts tell me he was saying, "GIVE ME MY FREEDOM!"
The lion let out a roar as well. I guess that's what big cats do in the morning. It was a more complacent roar than the tiger's as if to say, "I'm not sure if I can escape this place."
I didn't hear a peep out of any other animals. In fact, they hardly moved at all if you don't count the movement of jaws chewing food. I guess most of the animals have given up any hope of being free.
 |
| Here's what I think of this. |
I don't deserve this. I am the largest land mammal in the world.
 |
| If only I could use these antlers on my zookeeper. |
 |
| Quit staring at me. |
If I show part of my face instead of my plumber's smile, will you just go away?
 |
| I am the king of the jungle. Let me out. |
I wish I could swim the hell out of here.
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| Oh great, I get to eat horse food. |
Thursday, August 21, 2014
August 21: Monument Fever
Today's post is going to be an experiment. Instead of going on and on with my silly words, I am going to describe the day with photos. I will limit my written commentary to ONE sentence per photo. Can I do it? We shall see. Let the experiment begin!
Our first stop was the Martin Luther King Memorial and if you look closely, you can see I have assumed the same pose as the great civil rights leader.
Clearly Martin was a wise and quotable man.
Dan and I continued on to the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial where I wheeled the former president out to enjoy the warm sunshine.
Franklin was also a very quotable man.
Do they really have to explain that?
More Roosevelt wisdom.
Next up: Thomas Jefferson's Monument.
Shhhhhhhhhhh!
I must say, Thomas is tall.
Roosevelt also knew his way around a quote AND he could write sideways.
We've seen a lot of helicopter surveillance this week.
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You have to admit that I resemble the Washington Monument.    |
August 20: Police, Security, Secret Service
Today Dan and I are on our own as Ron's convention gets underway. We did the subway thing again and started with visits to some of the downtown attractions.
We began with the Ford Theater which is famous for being the place where President Lincoln got shot in the head by John Wilkes Booth. We saw the presidential booth where Lincoln was enjoying a play when the murder transpired. It was kind of somber being there. I was struck by the huge contrast in security between the flimsy door that stood between Lincoln and his assassin compared to the heavily fortified steel door that protects the presidential suite at the Kennedy Center.
I had thought the International Spy Museum might be one of the most interesting sites in D.C., but that was before I learned it cost $20.00 to get in. No thanks. I'm getting used to paying $0.00 for most of the attractions. (Later in the day, I did get a little taste of the intrigue and humor of the spy world when I stopped in at the International Spy Museum Store. It was free.)
We walked by Chinatown while working our way to the National Museum of Fine Arts and Portrait Gallery. We had to wait a half-hour for the gallery to open up for the day, but we were entertained by some kind of police action going on across the street. I would estimate there were about 30 cops there, about 10 Fire Department people, 8 patrol cars, a big search and rescue vehicle, some kind of armored police vehicle, 3 police bicycles--and three anti-fracking protesters. At first we could not believe it took that much fire power to monitor the actions of three peaceful demonstrators carrying little homemade signs. Finally, we heard somebody say there was a bomb scare. Yes, I could see having a strong police presence for searching out and dismantling a bomb. However, they were all just standing around, and I mean just doing nothing except talking and laughing with other cops. Some occasionally spoke into their police radios. Some lit up cigarettes.
Once inside the gallery, we split up to enjoy the art at our own pace. There was a lot of great stuff there--modern and traditional--but it was also a great history lesson. I thought it had far more interesting and useful historical information than the Smithsonian's American History Museum. I was also very interested in the portraits and biographies of people considered to be "cool." Some of the "cool" people were not so cool in my opinion, but there's no need to stir up THAT debate here.
A painting of the northern lights (aurora borealis)
I went back down to the capitol building next. Dan had gone there about 30 minutes earlier. I didn't get into the capitol, but I did learn that the figure on top of the dome is NOT George Washington as I had surmised in yesterday's post. Not only that, the figure is not even a man . . . and she isn't facing the Washington Monument. I guess I should have been wearing my glasses yesterday so I could have saved myself the embarrassment of having to write this correction.
Behind the capitol is the Supreme Court Building where Chief "Justice" John Roberts and his gang of nine go to work. In this building, they listen to legal arguments with an open mind and then dispense "justice" based on precedent, wisdom and logic. I can't believe I finished typing that last sentence without bursting out in crazed laughter. From my perspective, their version of "justice" is the version defined by the political party of the president who appointed them.
I didn't get inside the Halls of "Justice." There were just too many armed security guards who were clearly prepared to tackle or shoot me if I tried to make a run for the building. It was like that at the capitol building too.
Now that I had visited the Legislative and Judicial Branches of our government, I determined that I should see where the work of the Executive Branch takes place.
I walked 24 blocks to President Barack Obama's house. There has been a lot of turnover at the White House over the years. Every president except George Washington has lived and worked there. It is the oldest public building in the city. Yet it is beautifully maintained--just as all of D.C.'s government buildings are.
The White House has a tall, black wrought iron fence all the way around it and, of course, there are many, many police and security personnel as well. Plus, there is the Secret Service. I got the distinct impression that I was not going to be able to drop in to visit Barack unannounced.
White House security checkpoint. Try avoiding the Secret Service here.
They just won't let me in.
Anti-war protester who has been on duty in front of the White House 24 hours a day since 1981
All three branches of government now covered, I stopped at the Gordon Biersch Brewing Co. for a pint of ale and a sandwich. After a long day of walking, it was nice to sit down and relax in a setting with no security agents around.
I met back up with Dan. On our way to the subway station, we both commented on the incredible number of interesting museums, galleries, statues, monuments, theaters, stadiums, historic sites and government bureaus housed in magnificent buildings there are. It would take a solid month of full-time touring to see it all. I missed having my bike. With that I could probably do it in two weeks.
We began with the Ford Theater which is famous for being the place where President Lincoln got shot in the head by John Wilkes Booth. We saw the presidential booth where Lincoln was enjoying a play when the murder transpired. It was kind of somber being there. I was struck by the huge contrast in security between the flimsy door that stood between Lincoln and his assassin compared to the heavily fortified steel door that protects the presidential suite at the Kennedy Center.
I had thought the International Spy Museum might be one of the most interesting sites in D.C., but that was before I learned it cost $20.00 to get in. No thanks. I'm getting used to paying $0.00 for most of the attractions. (Later in the day, I did get a little taste of the intrigue and humor of the spy world when I stopped in at the International Spy Museum Store. It was free.)
We walked by Chinatown while working our way to the National Museum of Fine Arts and Portrait Gallery. We had to wait a half-hour for the gallery to open up for the day, but we were entertained by some kind of police action going on across the street. I would estimate there were about 30 cops there, about 10 Fire Department people, 8 patrol cars, a big search and rescue vehicle, some kind of armored police vehicle, 3 police bicycles--and three anti-fracking protesters. At first we could not believe it took that much fire power to monitor the actions of three peaceful demonstrators carrying little homemade signs. Finally, we heard somebody say there was a bomb scare. Yes, I could see having a strong police presence for searching out and dismantling a bomb. However, they were all just standing around, and I mean just doing nothing except talking and laughing with other cops. Some occasionally spoke into their police radios. Some lit up cigarettes.
Once inside the gallery, we split up to enjoy the art at our own pace. There was a lot of great stuff there--modern and traditional--but it was also a great history lesson. I thought it had far more interesting and useful historical information than the Smithsonian's American History Museum. I was also very interested in the portraits and biographies of people considered to be "cool." Some of the "cool" people were not so cool in my opinion, but there's no need to stir up THAT debate here.
I went back down to the capitol building next. Dan had gone there about 30 minutes earlier. I didn't get into the capitol, but I did learn that the figure on top of the dome is NOT George Washington as I had surmised in yesterday's post. Not only that, the figure is not even a man . . . and she isn't facing the Washington Monument. I guess I should have been wearing my glasses yesterday so I could have saved myself the embarrassment of having to write this correction.
Behind the capitol is the Supreme Court Building where Chief "Justice" John Roberts and his gang of nine go to work. In this building, they listen to legal arguments with an open mind and then dispense "justice" based on precedent, wisdom and logic. I can't believe I finished typing that last sentence without bursting out in crazed laughter. From my perspective, their version of "justice" is the version defined by the political party of the president who appointed them.
I didn't get inside the Halls of "Justice." There were just too many armed security guards who were clearly prepared to tackle or shoot me if I tried to make a run for the building. It was like that at the capitol building too.
 |
| Note the security guards making sure "justice" is served. |
Now that I had visited the Legislative and Judicial Branches of our government, I determined that I should see where the work of the Executive Branch takes place.
I walked 24 blocks to President Barack Obama's house. There has been a lot of turnover at the White House over the years. Every president except George Washington has lived and worked there. It is the oldest public building in the city. Yet it is beautifully maintained--just as all of D.C.'s government buildings are.
The White House has a tall, black wrought iron fence all the way around it and, of course, there are many, many police and security personnel as well. Plus, there is the Secret Service. I got the distinct impression that I was not going to be able to drop in to visit Barack unannounced.
All three branches of government now covered, I stopped at the Gordon Biersch Brewing Co. for a pint of ale and a sandwich. After a long day of walking, it was nice to sit down and relax in a setting with no security agents around.
I met back up with Dan. On our way to the subway station, we both commented on the incredible number of interesting museums, galleries, statues, monuments, theaters, stadiums, historic sites and government bureaus housed in magnificent buildings there are. It would take a solid month of full-time touring to see it all. I missed having my bike. With that I could probably do it in two weeks.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
August 19: A Monumental Day
Dan and Ron and I took the subway downtown. No doubt we looked like the rube tourists we were, yet we navigated the system well enough to get to where we wanted and found it to be a great way to get around the city. We walked from the downtown area to the Smithsonian Castle. After looking around there for a while, we decided we could individually see the things we were interested in better if we split up. That's what we did. The following are my personal observations.
The Smithsonian Institute
-Seventeen museums, 1700 security guards, 17,000 visitors, 17,000,000 photos taken.
-So all-inclusive, one may never need to visit another museum--or WANT to.
-Animals on display.
-Plants on display.
-Rocks on display.
-History on display.
-Art on display.
-Science on display.
-Business on display.
-The World on display.
-Best of all--the unstructured behavior of tourists is on display. It's not regimented, guarded, enclosed in glass, or beset with interpretive signs. Fascinating!
The Washington Monument
-By far the tallest structure in Washington D.C.
-Symmetrical
-A tapering shaft aimed to the sky.
-Grayish-white. Cold.
-A neverending line of people at the base, waiting to climb 555 feet to the top.
-Windows near the top--two on each side. They look like eyes that monitor your every move.
-Above the eyes are blinking red lights. The purpose? To warn aircraft of its presence? A visual code being transmitted to a distant planet? A small bit of animation given to the rigid, impersonal iciness of the monolith?
The National Mall
-People criss-crossing the poorly-maintained lawns.
-Shade trees and weeds. Gravel and gray skies.
-Visitors of many nationalities speaking many languages.
-Joggers and cyclists.
-Street vendors.
-Big monuments, memorials and buildings in all directions.
-A cop on a horse--complete with billy club and gun.
-A carousel. Horses galloping to nowhere.
-A hungry man rummaging a trash container for food.
-Another man sits on a bench, pointing and gesticulating wildly and talking loudly to nobody but himself.
-A Segway tour. The guide works hard to keep the tourists interested.
The Lincoln Memorial
-An American Parthenon.
-Tons of concrete and marble.
-Twelve massive pillars.
-One has to look hard to see the 16th president hidden in the interior shadows.
-Three flights of steps leading to Lincoln's Temple.
-A pedestal. A chair. A throne, if you will.
-Lincoln sits on the throne, arms resting on armrests. Oversized clothing. A look of dead seriousness.
-Eyeballs glaring, his steely gaze blazes a laser beam right through you.
-A white that matches the purity of his heart--but not a BRILLIANT white. No, a white with a gray area.
The Nation's Capitol Building
-It stands guard at the eastern edge of the National Mall.
-A big, ornate block of whiteness, like a sculptured chunk of white fudge.
-On top, a dome, like a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
-A GUY stands on top of the scoop of ice cream. Could it be George Washington himself? He looks out over the mall, his eyes meeting the eyes of his namesake monument.
-Manicured gardens.
-Too nice of a building to house "congressmen."
-The reek of corruption, kickbacks, extortion and shady political deals permeates the air.
-Note the large pool out front. Does it symbolize the cleanliness of our legislators? Or is it there for those legislators to wash the slime off after a hard day of law-making?
We also went to the Korean, Viet Nam, and World War II memorials. Then the Albert Einstein memorial, followed by a long walk to The Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Ron was looking forward to that last one, and we took a tour of that fine facility. From the observation deck at the Kennedy, we got great views of the Potomac River, The Pentagon, The Jefferson Memorial, and, perhaps the all-time greatest symbol of political corruption, the Watergate Complex.
We took a bus to the Foggy Bottom subway station and took the Blue Line subway to the Central Metro station. From there we transferred to the Red Line subway to the Woodley Park station. By the end of our day, we were public transportation experts.
Julius Caesar and I give a "thumbs up" to the day.
-Seventeen museums, 1700 security guards, 17,000 visitors, 17,000,000 photos taken.
-So all-inclusive, one may never need to visit another museum--or WANT to.
-Animals on display.
-Plants on display.
-Rocks on display.
-History on display.
-Art on display.
-Science on display.
-Business on display.
-The World on display.
-Best of all--the unstructured behavior of tourists is on display. It's not regimented, guarded, enclosed in glass, or beset with interpretive signs. Fascinating!
-By far the tallest structure in Washington D.C.
-Symmetrical
-A tapering shaft aimed to the sky.
-Grayish-white. Cold.
-A neverending line of people at the base, waiting to climb 555 feet to the top.
-Windows near the top--two on each side. They look like eyes that monitor your every move.
-Above the eyes are blinking red lights. The purpose? To warn aircraft of its presence? A visual code being transmitted to a distant planet? A small bit of animation given to the rigid, impersonal iciness of the monolith?
The National Mall
-People criss-crossing the poorly-maintained lawns.
-Shade trees and weeds. Gravel and gray skies.
-Visitors of many nationalities speaking many languages.
-Joggers and cyclists.
-Street vendors.
-Big monuments, memorials and buildings in all directions.
-A cop on a horse--complete with billy club and gun.
-A carousel. Horses galloping to nowhere.
-A hungry man rummaging a trash container for food.
-Another man sits on a bench, pointing and gesticulating wildly and talking loudly to nobody but himself.
-A Segway tour. The guide works hard to keep the tourists interested.
-An American Parthenon.
-Tons of concrete and marble.
-Twelve massive pillars.
-One has to look hard to see the 16th president hidden in the interior shadows.
-Three flights of steps leading to Lincoln's Temple.
-A pedestal. A chair. A throne, if you will.
-Lincoln sits on the throne, arms resting on armrests. Oversized clothing. A look of dead seriousness.
-Eyeballs glaring, his steely gaze blazes a laser beam right through you.
-A white that matches the purity of his heart--but not a BRILLIANT white. No, a white with a gray area.
The Nation's Capitol Building
-It stands guard at the eastern edge of the National Mall.
-A big, ornate block of whiteness, like a sculptured chunk of white fudge.
-On top, a dome, like a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
-A GUY stands on top of the scoop of ice cream. Could it be George Washington himself? He looks out over the mall, his eyes meeting the eyes of his namesake monument.
-Manicured gardens.
-Too nice of a building to house "congressmen."
-The reek of corruption, kickbacks, extortion and shady political deals permeates the air.
-Note the large pool out front. Does it symbolize the cleanliness of our legislators? Or is it there for those legislators to wash the slime off after a hard day of law-making?
We also went to the Korean, Viet Nam, and World War II memorials. Then the Albert Einstein memorial, followed by a long walk to The Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Ron was looking forward to that last one, and we took a tour of that fine facility. From the observation deck at the Kennedy, we got great views of the Potomac River, The Pentagon, The Jefferson Memorial, and, perhaps the all-time greatest symbol of political corruption, the Watergate Complex.
We took a bus to the Foggy Bottom subway station and took the Blue Line subway to the Central Metro station. From there we transferred to the Red Line subway to the Woodley Park station. By the end of our day, we were public transportation experts.
Julius Caesar and I give a "thumbs up" to the day.Monday, August 18, 2014
How We Got Here
The road trip began with Dan driving from St. Paul to pick me up in Hastings. From there, Dan drove well above the speed limit all the way to Oelwein, IA with only three very quick stops. One of those stops was at the Whippy Dip in Decorah, IA. It had become a traditional stop for his family when travelling between his home and our parent's house.
When he told me WE were going there, I looked forward to it, mainly because the name is so funny. Whippy Dip!
The Whippy Dip, a Decorah institution, has been dishing up soft-serve since 1954. I ordered a black raspberry sundae which was served in a cheap plastic drinking cup. I liked that little touch of individuality demonstrated by the creative folks at Whippy Dip. Unfortunately, while posing for a photo below the Whippy Dip sign, some of my delightful dessert spilled out onto my shirt and left an embarrassing and unsightly red stain. I had to wear it as a badge of shame the rest of the way to Oelwein.
We had a great dinner at my folks' house, marred only by the fact that the lasagna had no meat. Because Dan is a vegetable--I mean vegetarian--all of us, including my other brother, Rick, had to go meatless. It was painful because Rick and I are notorious carnivores.
After dinner, we celebrated my dad's 79th birthday, though it was ten days early. Hereafter, I will refer to my father by his first name, which is Ron. We ate angel food cake with strawberries and Reddy Wip in his honor. No, Reddy Wip is not a spelling error. I've seen the stuff for years and never noticed how ridiculously-spelled it is.
Then we made plans for our trip eastward in the morning. Ron wanted to leave at about 6:00 a.m. That seemed a little early for Dan and I, so we compromised based on Dan's proposal that we be ready at 7 o'clock, A.I.S. In case you are wondering, that means "Ass In Seat" at 7:00 sharp or you get left behind.
Sunday morning, Ron was in the hallway a few minutes after 6:00 a.m. yelling "ALL HANDS ON DECK." "ALL HANDS ON DECK." "ALL HANDS ON DECK." I guess he forgot about our agreement to take personal responsibility for having our asses in the seat by 7:00, which, in my case would mean getting up at 6:50.
I got up at 6:15 anyway, thanks to his Navy call-to-arms, and was downstairs with my pack in five minutes. Dan emerged a few minutes later with his newly-developed, long-distance, bodily waste-containment suit. It consisted of a high-tech plastic outer shell with super-absorbant materials and a charcoal filtration system (for odor abatement) on the inside. Dan said it was modelled after the diaper worn by the female astronaut who was arrested while driving non-stop from Texas to Florida in order to kill her lover's wife. However, he improved on her design and added a few personal touches as well. There would be no need for restroom breaks as far as Dan was concerned.
We drove south to I-80 and then east. Our first stop was at the Iowa 80 Truck Stop. At first I had my doubts about their claim to being "The World's Largest Truck Stop." All doubts were erased, however, after exploring the grounds. It was truly enormous. It had plenty of gas pumps, a convenience store, gift shop, movie theater, coffee shop, buffet, motel, showers, clothing store, dental office, and much more.
I can't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but there was an equipment failure involving Dan's personal lavatory costume. He said something about some "leakage," so he removed it and abandoned it. I presume he will make the necessary modifications sometime in the future.
We drove and drove and drove 650 miles through The Quad Cities, Peoria, Bloomington, Champagne-Urbana, Indianapolis, Dayton, and Columbus to a Best Western motel in Hebron, Ohio. There was plenty of laughing, joking, and sarcasm exchanged among the three of us. Also, there was some controversy. Ron is a believer in his Garmin GPS machine and blindly follows the voice directions of "Minnie" to guide him across the country. Dan and I are believers in maps and highway signage. It would frustrate Ron to no end when I would ignore Minnie's terse, monotoned instructions. (Dan called her "The Bitch.) The final straw for me was when Minnie told me to take Exit 129B to Hebron to get to our motel. Willing to give the bitch a chance, I passed up Exit 129 and prepared to take Exit 129B. There was no Exit 129B. There were no signs for Exit 129B. Exit 129B did not exist. The bitch made it up! To make matters worse, Dan and Ron gave ME crap for having to go three miles to the next exit to get turned around. Coming back west on I-70, Minnie was still insisting I take Exit 129B. It STILL did not exist so I took Exit 129 to the motel.
Later, we cruised around the Lake Hebron/Buckeye Lake area looking for a place to eat. We ended up at The Pizza Cottage where Ron had a personal-sized pizza and declared it the best pizza he's ever had.
The highlight of the last day of the road portion of our adventure came early. Approximately eight miles from the West Virginia border, we had to exit I-70 so Ron could take a McPiss. As I recall, the Urban Dictionary defines a McPiss as a stop at a McDonald's Restaurant for the specific purpose of urinating.
On we went through Wheeling and Morgantown and the very pretty Appalachian Mountain region of southeast Pennsylvania, northern West Virginia, and northern Maryland. We followed some odd directions, provided by Minnie, into Washington D.C. I gloated when I was able to look at a map and prove that the GPS route took us through some backroads unnecessarily. Nevertheless, we made it to the Marriott Hotel by 2:00 p.m.
When he told me WE were going there, I looked forward to it, mainly because the name is so funny. Whippy Dip!
The Whippy Dip, a Decorah institution, has been dishing up soft-serve since 1954. I ordered a black raspberry sundae which was served in a cheap plastic drinking cup. I liked that little touch of individuality demonstrated by the creative folks at Whippy Dip. Unfortunately, while posing for a photo below the Whippy Dip sign, some of my delightful dessert spilled out onto my shirt and left an embarrassing and unsightly red stain. I had to wear it as a badge of shame the rest of the way to Oelwein.
We had a great dinner at my folks' house, marred only by the fact that the lasagna had no meat. Because Dan is a vegetable--I mean vegetarian--all of us, including my other brother, Rick, had to go meatless. It was painful because Rick and I are notorious carnivores.
After dinner, we celebrated my dad's 79th birthday, though it was ten days early. Hereafter, I will refer to my father by his first name, which is Ron. We ate angel food cake with strawberries and Reddy Wip in his honor. No, Reddy Wip is not a spelling error. I've seen the stuff for years and never noticed how ridiculously-spelled it is.
Then we made plans for our trip eastward in the morning. Ron wanted to leave at about 6:00 a.m. That seemed a little early for Dan and I, so we compromised based on Dan's proposal that we be ready at 7 o'clock, A.I.S. In case you are wondering, that means "Ass In Seat" at 7:00 sharp or you get left behind.
Sunday morning, Ron was in the hallway a few minutes after 6:00 a.m. yelling "ALL HANDS ON DECK." "ALL HANDS ON DECK." "ALL HANDS ON DECK." I guess he forgot about our agreement to take personal responsibility for having our asses in the seat by 7:00, which, in my case would mean getting up at 6:50.
I got up at 6:15 anyway, thanks to his Navy call-to-arms, and was downstairs with my pack in five minutes. Dan emerged a few minutes later with his newly-developed, long-distance, bodily waste-containment suit. It consisted of a high-tech plastic outer shell with super-absorbant materials and a charcoal filtration system (for odor abatement) on the inside. Dan said it was modelled after the diaper worn by the female astronaut who was arrested while driving non-stop from Texas to Florida in order to kill her lover's wife. However, he improved on her design and added a few personal touches as well. There would be no need for restroom breaks as far as Dan was concerned.
We drove south to I-80 and then east. Our first stop was at the Iowa 80 Truck Stop. At first I had my doubts about their claim to being "The World's Largest Truck Stop." All doubts were erased, however, after exploring the grounds. It was truly enormous. It had plenty of gas pumps, a convenience store, gift shop, movie theater, coffee shop, buffet, motel, showers, clothing store, dental office, and much more.
I can't pinpoint exactly when it happened, but there was an equipment failure involving Dan's personal lavatory costume. He said something about some "leakage," so he removed it and abandoned it. I presume he will make the necessary modifications sometime in the future.
We drove and drove and drove 650 miles through The Quad Cities, Peoria, Bloomington, Champagne-Urbana, Indianapolis, Dayton, and Columbus to a Best Western motel in Hebron, Ohio. There was plenty of laughing, joking, and sarcasm exchanged among the three of us. Also, there was some controversy. Ron is a believer in his Garmin GPS machine and blindly follows the voice directions of "Minnie" to guide him across the country. Dan and I are believers in maps and highway signage. It would frustrate Ron to no end when I would ignore Minnie's terse, monotoned instructions. (Dan called her "The Bitch.) The final straw for me was when Minnie told me to take Exit 129B to Hebron to get to our motel. Willing to give the bitch a chance, I passed up Exit 129 and prepared to take Exit 129B. There was no Exit 129B. There were no signs for Exit 129B. Exit 129B did not exist. The bitch made it up! To make matters worse, Dan and Ron gave ME crap for having to go three miles to the next exit to get turned around. Coming back west on I-70, Minnie was still insisting I take Exit 129B. It STILL did not exist so I took Exit 129 to the motel.
Later, we cruised around the Lake Hebron/Buckeye Lake area looking for a place to eat. We ended up at The Pizza Cottage where Ron had a personal-sized pizza and declared it the best pizza he's ever had.
The highlight of the last day of the road portion of our adventure came early. Approximately eight miles from the West Virginia border, we had to exit I-70 so Ron could take a McPiss. As I recall, the Urban Dictionary defines a McPiss as a stop at a McDonald's Restaurant for the specific purpose of urinating.
On we went through Wheeling and Morgantown and the very pretty Appalachian Mountain region of southeast Pennsylvania, northern West Virginia, and northern Maryland. We followed some odd directions, provided by Minnie, into Washington D.C. I gloated when I was able to look at a map and prove that the GPS route took us through some backroads unnecessarily. Nevertheless, we made it to the Marriott Hotel by 2:00 p.m.
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| Really? The world's largest? |
 |
| Completely absorbent and odor-free. |
 |
| Dan's new restroom avoidance device. |
 |
| Ron's early birthday party. |
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| Whippy Dip's sundaes are messy. |
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