It’s tourist season!
On the metro this morning I was surrounded by tourists. You can tell that they’re tourists because they ride the metro with a combination of fear and confusion. Fear that they are moments away from being the victim of a violent crime, they eye everyone with skepticism. Fear that they are going to get off at the wrong stop. Fear that they are going to lose a kid in the masses of people getting on and off the train. Why can’t they bring a cup of coffee on the train? Why do you stand on the right and walk on the left on the escalators? How do I get my metro pass out of the machines? You can also tell that they are tourists because by the time I commute home later this afternoon, the stench of sweat and dirt under blue and yellow rain ponchos mixed with exhaustion will knock you over when you board the blue-line train.
We locals have a number of questions ourselves. Why do you have so many kids? Do you dress that dorky at home? Why are you in matching shirts? Does putting a leash on your kid really make a difference or aren’t you just asking for the thing to get caught in the door? Are Crocs really the most comfortable footwear option for standing in line to get into the Air and Space Museum? What’s with the fanny pack that barely fits across your waist? Why don’t you move to the center of the train when asked? Do any of you eat anything that doesn’t come from Applebee’s or Ruby Tuesday’s (because you’re always asking me to point you in the direction of the closest one)? Why do you smile in front of the Holocaust Museum when you’re having your picture taken there? What’s so damn funny about seeing scaled replicas of the showers at Auschwitz or the room filled with shoes? Why do the Japanese tourists like to get married in front of the Disneyesque water feature at the WWII memorial? How many times do you have to be asked not to pick the blooms from the Cherry Blossom Trees?
Trips to Washington DC for people under the age of 18 are by and large a waste of time. I don’t think that kids appreciate history until they have a bit of their own history under
their belts. Oh sure, there are exceptions. TS is one; he was fascinated by presidential history for as far back as I can remember. My brother T$BD is another; he was interested in Abraham Lincoln for years and so when he finally made it out here his Senior year in high school, he was interested in and attentive to history. I’m just saying that most of the kids in a museum tend to flit about like a fly trying to get on the other side of a pane of glass. They listen to iPods as they skulk around exhibits, shifting their weight from one foot to another.
I think that taking a trip to Washington DC is one of those trips that sound better in the planning stages than in the actual execution of the trip. After all, the primary attractions themselves are “free” (It’s your tax dollars, but whatever). So once you pay for your transportation, lodging, meals and ubiquitous souvenir Obama hat, you’ll have money left over to pick up freeze dried ice cream at the museum shop.
The first time my mom visited me in DC, 12 years ago, she put on a pair of high healed ankle boots, suspiciously eyeing my choice of sneakers. Once on the Mall, she “got it” remarking that on TV, the monuments look like they’re closer together. Not true. The distance between the US Capital and the Lincoln Memorial is close to 2 miles. Which is fine. But not in stilettos. I’ll say this for her on that trip though: she looked great.
The spring break tourists differ from the inauguration tourists in one key aspect: the former flood our sidewalks with an air of entitlement while the latter seemed cognizant of history, treating everything and everyone with respect.
Not so, Mr. and Mrs. Iowa and your brood of 7 smugly eating your Pepperidge Farm goldfish snacks at 10am this morning. So when you wondered aloud if the closest metro station to the Smithsonian is the Smithsonian Station? I was only too happy to direct you to Eastern Market.
Oh, please tell me you actually told them to get off on Eastern Market!!!! Please!…… In another statement, I don’t get how so many people get confused by subways. When I came and visited you for the inauguration, and I set out on my own to explore D.C. that Saturday, I had no problems navigating the city, and thanks to your help in buying a smarttrip card, blended in, very well with the locals.
Oh, and I almost forgot to ad, I had people asking me for directions.
LOVE THIS POST!!! You captured the scene perfectly. I truly hope you sent those folks to Eastern Market. I would have paid BIG money to see you in action. (and I would have been ROFLMAO)
Those boots had clunky heals. I still have them. I’ll never look that good again.