I got into BWI on Sunday and met Kathy and Adam at Union Station. They are wonderful people. Dinner at Carlyle restaurant was chicken paillard. Very nice.
Monday I went to the Pentagon's 9/11 memorial, which opened just before I moved. This was the first time I had seen it. It's a series of 184 benches, each dedicated to a victim. The benches are arranged according to the birth year of the victim. The youngest was born in 1998, the oldest in 1930. There were at least two sets of spouses that I saw. A spouse's bench also includes their husband or wife's name and year of birth so you can find them as well. The year 1947 had the most victims with 11.
Benches facing towards the Pentagon represent people who were on the plane. Those facing away from the building represent people in the building. It's definitely not flashy, and I don't find it particularly moving. I guess it's more interesting than anything else. There's a lot of trees but little greenery. I'm not disappointed in it myself, but I imagine that other people are.
After that I wandered over to the recently-reopened American History Museum, which had been closed for two years until November. The line out back stretched to and down the sidewalk. The line out front was even longer, but moved pretty quickly. I'd heard they were going to change the interior layout to make it easier to get around, but I didn't see anything like that other than a new entryway.
Something I liked but didn't get to see too much of was a stage set up for singers to perform old songs and standards. These were theater or Broadway-type singers, and they were good. It occurred to me that there are probably 50 understudies on Broadway who actually sing better than just about every recording star in America, but just don't have all the extra stuff that goes with stardom. After the museum it was off to help Cousin-sama move some stuff, then a custody transfer to my friend Melanie, where I stayed the next three nights.
Tuesday I finally paid a visit to the George Washington National Masonic Memorial. I say "finally" because I lived two metro stops away from it for six years and got off at King Street Station a hundred times (or more) without even looking at it. It was more interesting than I had figured, and I'll probably go back and take the official tour one day.
Someone had told me about something at the National Gallery, but I couldn't remember what it was, so I wandered around for a while. I like the religious triptyches and ships at sea.
NOTE: "Triptych" is one of my favorite words. Anyone thinking of producing a "word of the day" calendar in the future should seriously consider it for entry.
It turned out that what I was looking for was the exhibition on Pompeii and the Roman Villa, which was pretty good. I had lunch with some former coworkers again, then plans for seeing a movie fell through. Soooooo...what does one do in D.C. with a couple of hours to kill? I thought you'd never ask.
Terry Pratchett talks about Samuel Vimes knowing where he is in his city by the feel of the cobbles beneath his boots. He also talks about the policeman's walk, an efficient stride that a seasoned policeman can maintain all night. Walking from Chinatown to Sign of the Whale felt just like that. I've approached SOTW from the South/Southeast hundreds of times. The exact route varies from time to time, but the general pull is the same. Sort of like turtles using magnetic north to navigate their way across the oceans. The passing of the city blocks was a trancelike blur until I got close.
On my way out, Vito recognized me and said, "You're back!" I always liked Vito for rescuing the Whale from the spawn of Satan that was going to turn it into an Irish pub, but I never really spoke with him until a few months before I moved. So it was nice to be remembered. Dinner at Noodles and Company and a trek to Crystal City, then konked out on the couch. Thus endeth the Tuesday.
Wednesday I went back to the National Gallery to do something I never had before: pay for those audio devices that tell you about parts of the exhibits. So I plopped down the five bucks for the Pompeii stuff. I learned a good deal, though I can't promise that I remember anything. Back to SOTW for lunch with Cousin-sama, then Gran Torino. Melanie and I ordered pizza that evening before heading to Bobby McKey's for New Year's.
Bobby McKey's is a dueling piano bar owned by the former owner of my former company. It's nice, the piano players are good, and I hope it does well.
I'm never going there again.
It's in an inconvenient location, the crowd is boring, I couldn't sit at the bar, and the check I got averaged out to $14 a drink. Just for the record, that's more than 60% more than I would get charged at SOTW, and there I frequently paid for only 60% of what I drank anyway. My impressions of the place the next morning were filled with profanities. What a great way to start the year.
New Year's Day was spent as it should always be: sitting in front of a TV watching bowl games. If we ever stop doing this, the terrorists have already won. My trip back home on the 2nd was smooth and uneventful, for which I am grateful. I owe a big debt of gratitude to my friends for letting me stay with them during my visit, which makes travel so much more convenient (and affordable).
In my next post, we'll go over one of the great hazards of traveling long distances, which is being confronted by a very overlooked Demon of Hell: He Who is Named...
...Introspection.
cue dramatic music, lights fade to black
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