DC Trip: A Sleeping Bag and a Shovel
July 4, 2004
I'm in DC this week as I write this update. Seeing that my
mom lives here now I will probably get to know this area quite well in the years
to come. It's a bittersweet feeling - DC is cool with a lot to do, but in all
honesty I wish I didn't have to get to know it. While change is inevitable in
any life, I don't take kindly to it.
Anyway...I've been here since Friday night. My sister and I flew in together.
The funny event of that experience is that my mom went to the wrong airport
to pick us up. So my sister and I jumped in a cab. Apparently cab drivers don't
know the cities they work in very well. Me, the passenger, had to look it up
on the map. I was thanking my childhood need to know where I was for my ability
to read a fucking map, otherwise we would of ended up back in Michigan. The
cab driver was actually nice, although his black leather O.J. Simpson gloves
were a bit frightening. He put up with us Americans and our inability to understand
a foreign accent. And bonus, he didn't smell.
The day after that adventure we went to Ikea. For some reason, every time I'm
there I expect everyone to be foreign, and all the employees to speak Scandinavian.
I don't even know if Scandinavian people speak Scandinavian, maybe Dutch. Foreign
languages and geography are not my strong suit. Ikea is definitely an experience
everyone should undertake. Cool, sheik shit at a very affordable price. But
if you don't do well in crowded places, like myself, then I wouldn't recommend
going on a weekend. That was my Saturday.
As I write this on Sunday, July 4th, I'm sitting in the backseat of a car, watching
the rain fall down in sheets as we zip our way to Annapolis. I'm writing this
on a post-it notepad from the Cadillac instruction book. I needed to distract
myself from the front windshield due to the erratic driving of the driver. And
you lucky people are my distraction! The excruciating pinching pain in my back
from sleeping on the couch last night is also distracting me, but in a very
angry and homicidal way. The rain has actually stopped, it's no longer standing
an inch on the road as we drive 60 mph through it. There also aren't many cars
sharing the freeway now as there were when the rain was thrashing down around
us, which made the steady stream of brake lights in front of us barely visible
as we raced to a grinding halt behind the car in front of us.
Perhaps you're asking yourself who this driver could be. But I argue that you
should be asking yourself if I am wearing my seatbelt. Yes, I am. When said
driver is behind the wheel I make sure all passengers are buckled in. The fear
has only slightly subsided as we reach our exit ramp. The return trip is yet
to come...
DC Trip continued...
We have now embarked on our return trip from Annapolis to Reston (where my mom
lives). We were near the marina and it was very cool, not the weather though.
It was between storms so the humidity was thick. And the tension was thicker.
I think dinner and a movie last night with the four of us was teetering on too
much family time. So spending the day together was crossing a line. Therefore
this car ride home is proving to be horribly uncomfortable. Said driver has
taken control of the radio and managed to find a fucking storytelling station.
Said driver is the selfish, control-freak type who probably assumes we're enjoying
this fucking bullshit. Or rather, doesn't give a damn. Said driver also prefers
cruise control in a fucking downpour. Ya know, I always prefer to have LESS
control of an automated vehicle when I can't see twenty feet in front of me.
(And breathe one....two....three)
And I'm back to my calm place. Anger, in the backseat of a cramped car while
listening to story time and wanting to jam this pen through the back of the
drivers seat in front of me, isn't good.
The freeway we're currently hurtling down is called the Beltway. It is four
lanes of traffic going in one direction at it's narrowest, six or seven at it's
widest. It's scary, big, and fast! Goddamn I wish I was driving.
If the energy in this car wasn't so negative this experience could be comical.
But alas, this Fourth of July has proven to be anything but fun.
Earlier today I was IMing with my brother, Tyler. We concurred that this holiday
is a lot more fun when you're a kid (And when really cool fireworks are involved).
Homemade ice cream and bottle rockets, and maybe a family that actually gets
along (To be fair, three of us get along usually).
I'm debating how much of this I should actually post. I'm not one for censorship,
especially self censorship. This is real, real thoughts, real feelings. But
perhaps I'm being mean, rude, biased, whatever. Fuck it, it is what it is...you
guys get it all.
Story time is over and driver couldn't take a fifteen year old playing Gershwin.
Fuck public radio. I'm so ready to be out of this car. I feel like locking myself
in a bathroom for some non-tension filled minutes. I'm too old for these teenage
drama mind games. My sister and I are 25 and 24, adults, but sitting here in
the backseat we've been relegated to teenagers.
The next time this dysfunctional family unit decides to spend the weekend together
I'm insisting on a hotel. Shit, I would take a fucking tent and a dump bucket.
A sleeping bag and a shovel!