Day 1. Still not King
Jun. 26th, 2004 11:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mayhapI'm in D.C.! (I don't know what the alternative would be--my plane went down in flames? Anyway, it did not.)
Whoever designed Dulles Airport seems to have decided that certain passengers (namely, us) should have to make an epic schlep to pick up our baggage. It was kind of like walking from the East River to the 42nd St. subway station, then taking the shuttle to Times Square, then transferring to the ACE courtesy of all those annoying long tunnels and stairs that go up and stairs that go down again, and then voilà, there's your baggage claim. I mean, personally, when I fly, the gate where I disembark tends to be right near the place where my luggage does likewise.
The pleasantness of leaping aboard a pleasant and commodious rental car shuttle rather than waiting for a taxi or, heaven forfend, the M60, was offset somewhat by waiting for nearly an hour at the rental car place, where we listened as the automatic doors, which had evidently been allowed at the Pixy Stix again, opened, came within four inches of closing, only to open again, coming within four inches of closing, and ... I think you get the picture.
When we checked into our hotel I immediately unpacked all my stuff instead of living sloppily out of my suitcase as I do during most hotel stays (which are, admittedly, quite frequently only one night) and some Christmas vacations (which are not). Then I plugged in my laptop and checked my email and my friends page. Then I made a cup of tea. Admittedly, all these are things that I regularly do at home, with the exception of unpacking which I (usually) am not obligated to do in the first place, and yet they are much more satisfying in the context of the hotel room. Perhaps it is because the hotel room is pure, containing only those things you definitely intend to use, free of those things that you sometimes use, or you intend to use sometime, or that you might use, or that you definitely won't be using but you keep around anyway, or that don't actually have a use in the first place.
Also, there is the fact that it was very relaxing, and I was tired.
Nonetheless, my dad urged me to get Out and About as soon as possible, so I finished my tea, slathered on the sunscreen (this should be a recurring theme throughout this trip, because I am the shade of white that people [usually] aren't), and we drove to the Mall.
We wandered around and took pictures, like good tourists. Some of them even have me standing next to national monuments. It was gorgeous out, and perhaps this influenced our fellow tourists, as they seemed exceedingly, improbably carefree and happy. They were like Sappy Movie Tourists.
There is, I understand, some kind of folk cultures festival taking place on the Mall. While we were there, this manifested itself in girls dressed up in improbable costumes featuring flowers and bedsheets, and some man singing in Polish. (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
satyadasa will be proud to hear that I identified it as such before the singer mentioned in my hearing that he was affiliated with this Polish-American group.)
We left finally when the sun went down and drove all the way back out to Dulles, stopping to purchase groceries on the way.
And now, in conclusion, I am dead tired. Good night, all!
Oh, and this stupid hotel internet firewalls off AIM. So, people who usually IM me? Yeah. Do something else instead. :D
Whoever designed Dulles Airport seems to have decided that certain passengers (namely, us) should have to make an epic schlep to pick up our baggage. It was kind of like walking from the East River to the 42nd St. subway station, then taking the shuttle to Times Square, then transferring to the ACE courtesy of all those annoying long tunnels and stairs that go up and stairs that go down again, and then voilà, there's your baggage claim. I mean, personally, when I fly, the gate where I disembark tends to be right near the place where my luggage does likewise.
The pleasantness of leaping aboard a pleasant and commodious rental car shuttle rather than waiting for a taxi or, heaven forfend, the M60, was offset somewhat by waiting for nearly an hour at the rental car place, where we listened as the automatic doors, which had evidently been allowed at the Pixy Stix again, opened, came within four inches of closing, only to open again, coming within four inches of closing, and ... I think you get the picture.
When we checked into our hotel I immediately unpacked all my stuff instead of living sloppily out of my suitcase as I do during most hotel stays (which are, admittedly, quite frequently only one night) and some Christmas vacations (which are not). Then I plugged in my laptop and checked my email and my friends page. Then I made a cup of tea. Admittedly, all these are things that I regularly do at home, with the exception of unpacking which I (usually) am not obligated to do in the first place, and yet they are much more satisfying in the context of the hotel room. Perhaps it is because the hotel room is pure, containing only those things you definitely intend to use, free of those things that you sometimes use, or you intend to use sometime, or that you might use, or that you definitely won't be using but you keep around anyway, or that don't actually have a use in the first place.
Also, there is the fact that it was very relaxing, and I was tired.
Nonetheless, my dad urged me to get Out and About as soon as possible, so I finished my tea, slathered on the sunscreen (this should be a recurring theme throughout this trip, because I am the shade of white that people [usually] aren't), and we drove to the Mall.
We wandered around and took pictures, like good tourists. Some of them even have me standing next to national monuments. It was gorgeous out, and perhaps this influenced our fellow tourists, as they seemed exceedingly, improbably carefree and happy. They were like Sappy Movie Tourists.
There is, I understand, some kind of folk cultures festival taking place on the Mall. While we were there, this manifested itself in girls dressed up in improbable costumes featuring flowers and bedsheets, and some man singing in Polish. (
satyadasa will be proud to hear that I identified it as such before the singer mentioned in my hearing that he was affiliated with this Polish-American group.)We left finally when the sun went down and drove all the way back out to Dulles, stopping to purchase groceries on the way.
And now, in conclusion, I am dead tired. Good night, all!
Oh, and this stupid hotel internet firewalls off AIM. So, people who usually IM me? Yeah. Do something else instead. :D
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-06-27 05:23 pm (UTC)And please give me Moron Points, because when you said "We drove to the Mall" I immediately went "what mall?... Oh yeah, THE Mall. Geez"
Why did you fly to Dulles anyway? Reagan is right on the Metro Line, and a whole lot closer to actual DC. They need to spend my taxpayer money more efficiently.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-27 05:28 pm (UTC)That would be, because, yeah. The equipment my dad works on is actually located at Dulles. Or something.
I will be getting into actual D.C. every day somehow. :D
I have a troll, but they didn't leave a name or anything. How disappointing. They suck.
no subject
Date: 2004-06-27 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-02 08:20 pm (UTC)