Over the weekend America celebrated 239 years of running things and I observed the birth of the greatest country in the world in our nation's capital. This was actually my first trip to Washington, D.C. as I passed up a field trip in high school because of volleyball practice and my 17th birthday. Practice got cancelled and my parents forgot my birthday. Lesson learned.
We begin our journey in Chapel Hill frantically throwing red, white and blue clothing and accessories (I have plenty) into my bag in an attempt to "beat traffic". I really don't know why we even bother, traffic always wins, kind of like America. After securing my red, white and blue Nike dunks in the trunk one of my favorite Ann Coulter books in my lap, we were ready to head out. Going on any road trip lasting longer than an hour with me will require pit stops. I have a drinking problem. Ice water is my drug of choice. I would take it intravenously if that didn't seem medically unsound. So if I don't make a conscious effort to avoid all liquids, I will need to stop at a restroom every 2 hours, which I understand is terribly inconvenient and I'm sorry. But this trip was special thanks to a Mid-Atlantic gas station chain called Wawa. Fun fact about me, I love going to Walmarts, drug stores and gas stations in new cities. So I was pumped full of H20 and excitement to explore a Wawa. As someone who does not spend an inordinate amount of time in gas stations thanks to the convenient ability to pay at the pump and the inconvenient anxiety of human interaction, I am constantly impressed by how much some stations have to offer. At Wawa there was a soda machine, an Icee machine that appeared to be completely functional, a luxury where I'm from, and several food items that weren't made by the Mars company or Frito-Lay. I'm talking donuts, fruit parfait and mozzarella sticks warming right by the cash register waiting for the smell of marinara to impede my better judgment.
Once we arrived, the food situation got more complicated. D.C. is a pricey city. In between fast food staples like McDonald's,
Dunkin' Donuts and Shake Shack, we had to try some local restaurants. Here's what no one tells you about the capital...the service is terrible! All weekend we had waiters who couldn't remember our orders, or that they were supposed to be waiting on us. Our first D.C. dining experience was by far the worst, dinner at a bookstore that doubled as a restaurant. Our view overlooking the bookstore was great and the food was fine, I would totally recommend this place if you have 4 hours to kill and no plans for the foreseeable future.
In a charming subplot of country meets city, later that night I somehow happened upon a cute little bunny in the middle of Dupont Circle. Or so it seemed. I spotted the little darling hopping around in the grass and shouted "Bunny! Look guys, there's a bunny!" but none of my friends seemed to care. Finally, Jean-Luc indulged me and looked right as I was making my way over to the bunny, fully prepared to pick it up. Just before I got it within arm's reach he stopped me, "Rae, that's a rat." Oops. Moral of the story is that you may think that you see a bunny in the middle of D.C., but you could be wrong. Very wrong.
While in Washington, D.C. for the Fourth of July, naturally politics came up. And I think that my group discovered a very important political issue that needs further consideration. America is in a position to start thinking about what this country would look like with a woman president. I'm not diametrically opposed to having a woman president. I'm just opposed to that woman being Hillary Clinton. Might I suggest Carly Fiorina? In any event, if America has a woman president, that woman's husband will set the tone for what that position entails. What will we even call it? First Gentleman is the obvious choice but for a title that may fall upon Bill Clinton it seems ill-advised. Isn't that playing fast and loose with the term "gentleman"? Even the staunchest Hillary supporters have to ask themselves, do I really want Slick Willie to be the inaugural First Male? Another important issue we discussed...what is stopping the U.S. government from renaming Guam Genovia? Seriously, what's the harm? America deserves answers.
Aside from debating fundamental political issues, we took time to visit monuments, view the parade and tour museums. One thing that surprised me is that the White House is actually shockingly white. At first I thought it was just an archaic nickname, but 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is certainly not off-white, pearl, cream or champagne ivory. Red, eggshell and blue just doesn't sound the same, does it?
If you can avoid the "bunnies" and losing your favorite flip flops to the mean streets of Chinatown, nightlife in D.C. is an...experience. My friend Alex got called a "sassy little kitten" by a Madhatter patron. If you pronounced that in your head as pay-trun, congrats on your English. If you pronounced it as pah-trone, congrats on being Andrew. At one bar, the restroom had a "bathroom attendant" that was really an unaffiliated citizen quick to capitalize on tourists. So naturally my friend tipped him for handing him a paper towel and I spent the rest of the night claiming to be a dance floor attendant or a sidewalk attendant or a Metro attendant and asking him for cash.
After brunch Sunday morning we raced home to watch the Women's World Cup Final. We had been following the tournament. The day before we spent several hours in a restaurant watching England beat Germany in a very physical game and trying to finish our pizzas. One referee in particular took command, making several game-changing calls and even breaking up an altercation between the two teams. My friend pointed out she probably found it ridiculous that she has to break up a fist fight over third place, but I guess countries that aren't America get excited over stuff like that. After the women's game finished we turned our attention to the men's Copa America final where Chile beat Argentina during penalty kicks. Great day for the Lone Star State (Hint: Google flag of Chile & flag of Texas) but I was pulling for Argentina and was surprised at how upset I was when they lost. For years I've had no interest in soccer when America isn't directly involved, but here I am emotionally invested in Copa America because I cannot watch a competition without picking a side. How very American of me. I refuse to not have an opinion. I was only pulling for Argentina because it's my favorite basketball player's home country. I may have many faults (yet to be proven) but being neutral just isn't one of them.
When America defeated Germany (for a third time) there was a lot of buzz about the final match. It could be against England or Japan. While many Americans were excited about the possibility of playing England on the Fourth of July weekend, I wanted Japan and I wanted blood. After the 2011 World Cup and December 7, 1941, nothing feels as good to me as beating Japan. Not even shopping. So if the Fourth of July is my Christmas (which it is), then Sunday's World Cup final was my birthday. And Rapinoe's.
No comments:
Post a Comment