5 days in D.C.

For the past five days I’ve gotten to do something that I’ve always wanted to do, but wasn’t sure I would ever actually get to do: visit Washington D.C. There are so many things I was able to see, so many places I was fortunate enough to visit. I’m writing this on the flight home, and it honestly wouldn’t surprise me if it took the entire flight back to write about it.

Since it’s logical to do so, I’m going to chronicle the trip chronologically.

Monday

I got up early to ensure that I would make my flight with time to spare. When I travel I like to use public transit to get to the airport because it makes things so simple. Okay, that’s not the only time that I prefer to use public transit, but it certainly is A time that I like to use it. So Ilene dropped me off at the FrontRunner Station, where I took the train to North Temple Station and then connected with the Green Line light rail to the airport. There I checked in for my flight to Baltimore, MD.

Things went pretty smoothly. The flight even ran a little bit more quickly than scheduled and we touched down at BWI several minutes early. There was a group of coworkers headed to the D.C. conference, and I ran into some of them on the way. After Bob grabbed his bag from the baggage claim, we headed down the terminal to where the MARC has its pickup point. We stepped out of the terminal door just as the bus pulled up to the stop. We boarded the bus to the MARC station, and arrived with just enough time to purchase a ticket and get up and over the track and onto a MARC train into D.C. Honestly, the timing couldn’t have possibly been better. I wish all public transit could be as well-timed and efficient as it was for us on Monday! (Alas, we live in the real world!)

The ride into D.C.’s Union Station was uneventful, and it was nice to look around at all the green of the east coast’s countryside. Outside of Atlanta, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a greener place than the rail corridor in Maryland.

At Union Station, we caught a cab to the hotel (all of 6 blocks or so from the station).

After checking into the hotel, I dropped my stuff in the room, and was back out the door within 15 minutes. I knew I wouldn’t have much leisure time on this trip, and I wanted to waste as little of it as I realistically could.

I walked south to the National Mall, and then headed east to my first destination of priority: the Library of Congress. I always like to visit the remarkable libraries in the areas where I travel, and the Library of Congress was high on my list of must-see destinations. On the way I passed by many of the famed national landmarks that border the National Mall. I took a few photos as I passed, but didn’t really visit any of them.

When I arrived at the library, I walked around it, looking for the public entrance and shooting a few photos. Locating the door, I entered, only to find out that it wasn’t really the Library of Congress. Or, rather, it was the wrong library. It was the research annex, and wasn’t the one to which you’re supposed to go. I also found out that the “real” one was closed, because apparently 4:30 is quitting time. We hadn’t even arrived in D.C. until 6:30. Oh well.

So I left, and walked around the Capitol building and the Supreme Court building, by the real library, and then back along the mall toward my hotel. I hadn’t realized how enormous the National Mall is. It’s gigantic.

Tuesday

The next day my conference started, and I wasn’t done with everything until after 9:00 p.m. I had a little time in the afternoon, but jet lag got me and I didn’t really get to go anywhere.

Wednesday

The conference was over at 5:00, which precluded a trip to the Library of Congress, so I took another walking tour down to the National Mall, this time via Pennsylvania Avenue and the White House.

A couple of things about the White House.

First of all, I wanted to go to the White House and protest, as is my Constitutional Right. I had a great plan. I was going to hold up a protest sign about one of those issues I’m really passionate about, like “Less Government Transparency!” or “Increase the National Debt!” or “Make Congress Less Accountable!” But, I couldn’t find a piece of cardboard to write on anywhere, so I had to forego my protestations. I took photos of the protesters that were on-site instead. They had signs about relatively unimportant issues like not going to war and nuclear disarmament. Just silly if you ask me. Nobody there was protesting any of the important issues like “Free Toupées for Presidential Candidates!” (Does it make me a socialist if I advocate for that?).

Incidentally, while I was walking around all these days, I put my brain, my cell phone, and my awesome orange headphones to good use and I listened to books. This should really come as no surprise to anyone who has ever met me. The book I was listening to whilst I photographed the White House and the protestors was, by pure happenstance due to the alphabetical arrangement of my current reading list, Don Quixote. I didn’t miss it. I caught it. There was something very appropriate about standing between the government and the protesters while reading the story of the Man from La Mancha who tilted at windmills. That wasn’t my only coincidental (providential?) reading experience of this trip, but more on that later.

The White House itself sits on a pretty large piece of property (which I knew), and is fairly close to the north end of the lot and a long way from the south end of the lot (which was perfectly obvious from the satellite pictures). From the north end, you can get pretty close to the building itself, close enough to see stuff and close enough to get good pictures. Close enough, in fact, that one of the Secret Service guys said that the President never uses any of the doors on the north side or walks along the north side of the building because the SS (yes, that’s an intentional abbreviation; I want to highlight the connection between the two forces; it’s part of my protest) would have to shut down the road (more of a walkway, really, though accessible by car for the Right People). That would ruin a whole bunch of tourists’ vacations, so I kind of appreciated that. I guess that means the President doesn’t mow the north lawn himself. More taxes for the rest of us to cover it. Thanks, Obama!

The Secret Service, as portrayed in every movie I’ve ever seen that included them, consists of a bunch of tough looking guys in suits with earwigs in their ears, serious firearms under their shoulders, dark glasses over their eyes, and hardened looks on their faces. 

I saw about two dozen secret service guys. Not one of them looked like that. In fact, I didn’t see a single person in a suit the entire time I was within shooting distance of the White House (yeah, I used THAT word. First Amendment, baby. In case anyone actually ever reads this, however, it wasn’t meant as a threat in any way. I use the word only to point out that in the entire time I was close enough to the WH to remotely potentially pose any kind of a threat to anyone, I didn’t see any of THOSE Secret Service agents.)

But I did see several SS agents. I knew they were SS agents because every single one of them had a big label emblazoned upon the front of his or her flak jacket that read “SECRET SERVICE”. Yep. That’s right. The Secret Service Agents’ identities are about as secret as whatever it is that Victoria is supposedly trying to hide. Some of the agents were guarding fences, some were on bikes, some were in police-style vehicles complete with light bars and logos. And not one of them looked tough. They all looked pretty friendly. A few even looked physically unimposing (though I suppose I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt: they’re probably hiding the famed combat training under a deceptively friendly, inviting demeanor.)

I will give them this: they all looked watchful.

And I’ll give them this: there are worse ways to treat visitors.

I wonder if there were any “undercover” agents that were wandering around looking like tourists. I wouldn’t be at all surprised.

There are buildings on both sides of the White House so that you really can’t see it from the east or west, so I marched myself around to the south side. There are trees and a big tent (don’t know if that’s typical or short-term) that pretty much block it from view on the south side, at least at ground level. I guess that’s how you protect a president from attack by underorganized and resourceless wackadoos.

Actually, that seems like a good plan. Then you can spend more of your resources on defending against highly organized and resourceful wackadoos (by which, I mean, Republicans [at least right now; Democrats in other years {neither party has a monopoly on elected wackadoos – just look at the current political candidates!}]. Let’s face it, JFK was probably taken down by a political enemy, however it was accomplished [whether by magic bullets or shadow figures on grassy knolls, whatever]. I think one of the conspiracy theorists hanging out on the street north of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue may have planted some strange ideas in my brain. [And that concludes the most overly-parenthetical section of this post]).

Leaving the grounds of the White House, I traveled south to the Washington Monument. Well, almost there. It’s easily as impressive as I’ve ever thought. More on that later. Before heading to the Washington obelisk (you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free!), I turned west and headed toward the Lincoln Memorial. Along the way I got to see the reflecting pool and the Vietnam Memorial. I never realized how small the Vietnam Memorial really is. It’s definitely a blink and miss it landmark, and I’m really glad I didn’t miss it, but for personal reasons, that’s all I’m going to say about that.

Arriving at the Lincoln Memorial was awe inspiring. I didn’t think I would actually encounter much awe. But even with the myriad people (lots and lots of teenagers. I didn’t realize this was high-school-trip-to-D.C.-week. Or is it always that way?) ignoring the “Quiet Respect, Please” signs, it was easy to get drawn into the solemnity of the site. I’ve been an admirer of Lincoln, for various reasons I won’t go into (probably not the same as other people), but I tend to remain fairly quiet about it because I find the “respect” of people like Bill O’Reilly and Sean Hannity to be not only obnoxious, but also disingenuous; I find the constant and whiny and downright loud invocation of Lincoln’s and Reagan’s names rather disrespectful while they simultaneously raise them on pedestals of demi-divinity.

Anyway, my visit to Lincoln was personally very moving.

My next stop was to the site of the Korean War Memorial, which was also surprisingly small, but tasteful, and I’m glad I didn’t miss it along the way.

I walked along the reflection pool, doing what you’re supposed to do along the reflection pool (reflecting), until I came to the WWII Memorial. I have been internally critical about the fact that it took so long to build a WWII Memorial when we’ve so long had the Vietnam and Korean memorials. Well, it may have taken longer than it should have, but it was done right. It is impressive. It is tasteful, yet grand. The architecture is brilliantly done. Its elements are genius. Its scope compared to the Vietnam and Korean memorials, is exactly what it should be. Its geographic placement is monumental (see, what I did there, was…). I didn’t spend a lot of time there, with daylight burning, but I was very impressed. One thing we haven’t forgotten how to do, as a country, is to make a suitably symbolic monument. Washington, well-established member of the masonic order (see, what I did there was…), would be pleased.

From thence, it was on to the Washington Monument itself. It sits on a little hill that is well worth the climb. One of the great things about the WM is that you can walk right up to in and touch it. I hear you can also go inside, but it was closed when I got there, and honestly, climbing the steps wouldn’t have been all that appealing to me, anyway.

Side note: both the park surrounding the Washington Monument and the park betwixt the White House and the National Mall feature sports fields. Soccer pitches and baseball diamonds and running trails and all sorts of good things. At first I thought it a bit strange, due to the solemnity usually afforded these landmarks, but as I walked between them it occurred to me that there is something quite appropriate about the accommodation these places make for commoners and communities. I’m surprised that something so sensical (as opposed to nonsensical) actually made it past the committees which must surely have been involved in the decision making.

Wednesday night was my favorite night. The experience of visiting the sites was almost spiritual, filling me with a reverence for the locales that I honestly hadn’t expected. I went in expecting “cool” but walked away with something profound.

Thus endeth Wednesday.

Thursday

The conference on Thursday was long, lasting until about 7:30 p.m. The weather had turned cool and wet throughout the day. But I knew my time in D.C. was drawing to a close, and there were still things I wanted to do. It was too late to get into anything, but there were still places that don’t have closing times. So in a t-shirt and jeans, off I went again. I should have taken a ball cap. Or an umbrella. Or purchased a jacket. Or all of the above. But I didn’t. And honestly, I’m glad I did it the way I did it.

When I left the hotel it was misty. There was water in the air, and it was cool, but it wasn’t unpleasant. I headed past the Washington Monument that night to the Jefferson Memorial. I had missed it on Wednesday, and I decided to not miss it. I wasn’t all that interested in it, but I thought it would be silly to miss just the one. I was wrong. I’ve never seen photos of the inside of Jefferson’s spot, only of the outside. I don’t know why the inside isn’t as celebrated as Lincoln’s, because it should be!

Again, I left the monument with a sense of the sublime.

One thing I did right on this trip was to purchase extra cell phone batteries prior to leaving. That gave me a lot of ambulatory freedom relative to what I had in Chicago. It wasn’t too late (about 8:30) when I finished at Jefferson’s home, so I pulled out my cell phone and looked at the map (incidentally, I’m reading a remarkable book on GPS right now, but more on that later), and realized that I was rather near George Mason Memorial Bridge. Now, I know nothing about George Mason, really, other than that there’s a University with his name attached. What is significant about George Mason Memorial Bridge, to me,  is that on the other side of it is Virginia.

Side note: I had wanted to go to Arlington Cemetery, which is also in Virginia, as well as George Washington’s Masonic lodge (gee, you’d think I had a thing for the Masons, but I don’t!), which is also in Virginia, but with the little free time I had, those two had to be sacrificed. So was the National Cathedral. And the National Geographic Society’s Museum (doh!), and a hundred other things that I wanted to see but for which there wasn’t sufficient time.

But I figured I had time to walk across a bridge into Virginia. Just as I was leaving Jefferson, the mist turned to light rain. About 100 steps after that it turned to moderate rain. And about 100 steps after that it was cold and hard rain. But I had already pulled out my phone and looked at google maps. I had already set my course south. I was going to Virginia if it killed me. Okay, I knew it wasn’t going to kill me. I was going to Virginia if it drenched me.

It did.

I’m glad I had a belt on because by the time I got across the bridge to VA, my pants had gained 10 pounds of water weight (no, actually, I’m not exaggerating), and it was getting rather difficult to walk. I enjoyed every second of it. I even liked the cold rain. It was somewhat odd for me. I get to check off another State. I only visited about 50 feet of it. It still counts. Then I turned around and headed back.

I passed by Jefferson, again, and then straight north up 15^th Street in the general direction of my hotel. Well, since it was right there, I decided to detour a half block and visit the White House again (the only place I actually went twice. By this time it was about 10:00, and it was dark, and I got some good night-time photos of the White House. And I got a guy on the street (much less crowded at 10:00 than 7:00) to take a couple of snapshots of me in front of the presidential mansion, so that was cool.

Then back to the hotel. I arrived looking somewhat like a drowned rat and creating puddles with each step. It took me an hour to get warm. Totally worth it.

Friday

The conference was over, my flight just hours away, and I still hadn’t managed to visit inside two of my top two destinations, the Library of Congress and the Air and Space Museum of the Smithsonian. When I got to my hotel on Thursday, I looked up the hours of both and formulated a plan. I’m pleased to announce that the plan succeeded.

The Library of Congress closes early, but it also opens decently early. It was also, fortuitously, the further of the two spots from my hotel. So, I got up early enough to walk to the Library site in time for its opening. Actually, I erred on the side of early and got there about 45 minutes early.

The Library of Congress, appropriately, sits eastwardly across the street from the capitol building. After snapping a few photos, I proceeded up the steps to near the entrance of the library and sat gazing upon the Capitol building.

One of the things I knew, coming to D.C., was that much of the architecture found here is in the style known as neo-classical. I also noticed that fact while wandering the streets these past few days. Really, it’s impossible not to notice. I had always thought that the reason behind the style was that it was in vogue at the time of the founding of Washington as the Capitol, and that since then it was reasonable to maintain the style in many of the government buildings. I can say for certain that Neo-Classical (i.e. make it look like the Greeks built it) was in vogue at the time, because many of the European edifices built in the same era adopted the same style.

However, I believe that there’s more to it. It occurs to me that perhaps, in using the Neo-Classical architecture, the designers and builders were trying to create a sense of grandeur and awe in those elected officials who would enter into the halls of congress, into the president’s office and home, and in the jurists who would wield ultimate judgement over the citizens of this nation. I wonder if they weren’t trying to instill in these leaders a sense of the solemn responsibility, the sacred trust, the incredibly dangerous influence they would hold. I wonder if they weren’t attempting to remind them that they were there to serve a noble purpose.

Alas, I fear that the sense of awe has faded. Perhaps it’s human nature to become accustomed to the familiar. Perhaps it’s that the marvels of the modern age—the vessels that take flight; the speeds of modern transportation; the spatial vastness of modern edifices and the ease of their construction—perhaps the incredible capacities and comforts of new technologies have diminished the effect of archaic architecture. Perhaps it’s that unpaid representatives have become salaried plutocrats who can be legally bribed and indefinitely tenured. Perhaps it’s all of these things, and perhaps it is more.

I fear that the sense of awe has been replaced with a sense of entitlement. A sense that the elected official is deserving of all their comforts. A sense that they are born destined to enjoy the fatted calf, while the unwashed are fated to support the establishment of their power and the execution of their royal wills.

I fear that instead of inspiring awe, the grand has become grandiose, inspiring a sense of privilege.

Anyway.

After contemplating the capitol building for a while, I read for a few minutes from books I had with me. I thought that was pretty appropriate for a library trip. Because without the books, the library is just a pretty empty building.

Due to my early arrival, I got to be the first visitor to enter the Library of Congress, which was pretty awesome. Within a quarter hour throngs of noisy people arrived. But for the first several minutes, I got to wander the great hall alone. I got to experience my number one D.C. destination in near silence. I got to take photos of its walls and ceilings and arches and stairs without anyone ruining the shots. It was awesome.

It also was nothing like what I expected. The publicly-accessible areas of the library have no books (except for the gift shop). There is an overlook into the congressional reading room, and you can see the stacks behind the desks, but there’s no way to access the books directly. That was somewhat disappointing, though I can probably understand the reason. If I try really hard.

The gift shop at library didn’t open for an hour after the library itself, and I really wanted to go in, so I sat on a bench in the library and read. Once again, appropriate. Also, just try to stop me from reading a book in your library, Congress! You have no power over me! I read in your library. Yeah, I had to bring my own books; but no matter! Those were the books I wanted to read in the first place! (Yep, you guessed it, I read some Quixote, and I’m tilting at the windmills).

In the gift shop, I encountered a book that I just couldn’t pass up. It is a paper book. About electronic technology. Used for making maps. That aren't ever printed. That you pay for. In a library.

How many contradictions can you fit into one experience?

I couldn’t bring myself to walk out without it.

Also, I want to note, while in the Library of Congress I sat and read from three books in three formats. Paper, electronic, and audio. Cuz I’m kool lik dat. Nope. Because I’m cool like that.

Side note: the men’s room at the Library of Congress is the fanciest place I’ve ever engaged in restroom business. (Can’t quite bring myself to say the “p” word, it was so darn fancy. I took a picture. When no one else was in there.) It even had one of those fancy rest areas with comfortable seating like I hear ladies’ rooms have basically everywhere (which is really fancy for a men’s room). Also, the stall walls were made of marble.

I got to spend an entire hour at the Library of Congress. And I texted my librarian sister to inform her about how she was jealous of me. Which she totally was.

After I left the library (at 9:45, with the perfect amount of time to make it to prime destination number two before its opening at 10:00), I walked straight down the hill and into the Air and Space Museum of the Smithsonian. That’s right, one of the absolutely most awesome sites in the entire world lays along the National Mall in Washington D.C., and I haven’t even mentioned the Smithsonian, yet.

I only got to go to one of the branches of the amazing institute, but I picked the best one (at least, it’s the best one in my experience. My experience, of course, being this one). I passed by so many that I wanted to visit. I only had time for the one. And it was amazing.

When I walked into the Air and Space Museum, I was just coming to the conclusion, I kid you not, of a book that I had started reading on my first day in D.C., Mission to Mars by Buzz Aldrin. I finished reading that incredible book about the potential future of space exploration while standing in front of the replica of the Lunar Lander, the craft in which the author of the book made the first landing on the moon.

Coincidental? Providential? Serendipitous? The experience was beyond my capacity to fit into things made out of letters. Even ones with lots and lots of letters.

Side Note: In one of my favorite passages of the book, Buzz relates that though Armstrong was the first man to walk on the moon, he, Buzz Aldrin, was the first alien from another planet to board a space ship to Earth. He’s probably told that joke a million times, but it was the first I’d heard it, and I appreciated it.

The exhibits at the Air and Space museum are inspiring. They chronicle flight from the Wright Brothers to satellites, from space vehicles to the uses of sextants and cesium clocks. It celebrates engineering and courage. It recognizes work and sacrifice, courage and innovation.

Did I say that Wednesday night was my favorite? Well it was. Except for Friday morning. Which was better. Except for the fact that Wednesday night was the best.

Forget Disneyland. Its thrills are cheap and its cover price high, while the wonder and inspiration of imagination, and the purpose and nobility of self-government have an gate fee of $0.

So now, I’ve walked to my hotel to collect my baggage; I’ve hailed a taxi and boarded a train; I’ve set over the wing of a plane and slip-streamed home to the Mountain West. And, as predicted, it has taken nearly the entire trip home to inadequately chronicle my Washington experience.

But – and I think you’ll agree with me on this point – at least it’s done.