My Wild and Wonderful Life in D.C.
Good evening, faithful readers. Tonight marks another installment in the wild and wonderful life that I’ve been living here in D.C. Typically I’ll use this space to drabble on about how “my time is running out,” or how valuable the experience has been, but there will be no such pandering here. In fact, rather than talk about how wonderful my experience has been, I figure I’ll let out a bit of frustration before I dive into the week’s events. One: whoever keeps setting the fire alarm off in the middle of the night at the RAF NEEDS TO STOP! I don’t care if you’re doing it on purpose “to be funny,” or if you just happen to suck more at cooking (and consequently life) as I do. The end result is… you’re starting to piss a lot of people off, myself included. So please, for God’s sakes, throw me a bone and either learn to use a microwave, or step beyond the boundaries of 7th grade. Whew. Feels nice to get that one off of my chest.
Second: whoever is leaving all of the garbage in the trash room… really? The chute is two feet in front of you! Just because it won’t glide in the chute like butter on bread doesn’t mean you just leave it in the room. I know you don’t want to get your dainty hands dirty whoever you are, but honestly, the way to fix that is by either a.) Washing your hands after you mash your garbage into the tube, or b.) Stop filling up your damn garbage bags so much. Seriously, it’s stinking up the hallway. It’s starting to smell like a freshman dorm up in this piece.
Third: (and this is a general comment to everyone in the RAF) as a good friend once told me, “snitches get stitches.” Meaning: if you don’t like the noise, please come and let someone know in the room in question first before you go running to the R.A’s about how butt-hurt you are. Case in point, this last Friday night my roommate, a friend of his from back home, and myself were sitting in our room (roughly around 10:00, maybe 10:30) watching a movie on FX and having a beer or two before we were heading out for the night. Big mistake, apparently. Turns out we were making a whole lotta noise sitting there in relative silence. So much noise, in fact, that we had an R.A. come down and gear up to bust up our riot of a time, only to be flustered at the fact that they had to come tell a group of 3 watching TV to keep it down. Now, this is not a bash against the R.A. in any respect. They were simply doing their job. But to the informant in question… had you just walked over and talked to us personally you might have seen that we weren’t throwing a massive party, and that we probably would’ve toned it down had you really had a problem with the noise. Also, it was Friday night. Even Rebecca Black likes “getting’ down on Friday,” and she looks like she’s thirteen-god-damned-years-old! But seriously, no big deal bro/bro-dette… just let us know before you run off squealin’ like a piggy.
International Spy Museum vs. Paul McCartney and the Wings’ “Live and Let Die”
Alright, now that we’ve taken care of some things on the business end, let’s move on to the more pleasurable side of my past week. My mother came into town over the weekend, providing me with ample entertainment, as well as an excuse to get out of bed before noon on Saturday and Sunday. All in all, it was a good experience. I got a lot of sightseeing done that would have otherwise taken place behind my flickering eyelids during REM sleep. But, as you’re about to find out, one of the more fantastic excursions we went on was to the International Spy Museum in China Town (of course after a healthy dose of Capitol Q Brisket). For anyone that was out Saturday afternoon: how about that hail eh? That stuff kinda’ smarts doesn’t it. Well, guess where we were when it hit? In that catastrophe of a line out in front of the museum. That’s not the point however.
Despite the seemingly steep ticket price of $16 to enter, the Spy Museum was one hell of a time. Comparing it to some of the other museums I’ve been to in D.C., including some of the federal, free, ones; the Spy Museum is probably one of the best put-together museums that I’ve been to in a while. Maybe that’s because I love old James Bond Movies (hint, hint ladies), maybe it’s because they charge you so damn much for admission. But, either way, the Spy Museum was well worth the trip. With this is mind, the only song that could possibly fit the attitude and experience of the Spy Museum would have to be “Live and Let Die” by Paul McCartney and the Wings. I mean common,’ “Live and Let Die” might arguably be one of the best, if not the best, Bond theme song ever produced. The smooth, slow piano start; trailing McCartney’s notes as they dance along… not unlike the snaking lines of people waiting to get in: shuffling slowly, trailing the person in front of them. But, soon enough, you’re in a dimly-lit elevator only to explode out into the espionage world like the “BURRUMP” of the horns and slamming orchestral additions of “Live and Let Die.”
Assuming the “cover” of a “real life agent,” you meander your way through some halls before you’re treated to an introductory film which briefly explains the exciting and dangerous world of spying; not without a healthy lathering of “cheese” to the production. But from there on out, it’s all business. Arranged in sections that cover everything from surveillance; to royal/ancient spies; modern interpretations made by TV and Hollywood; Cold War era spying; and a surprisingly-informative section on cyber-terrorism and spying, but it’s not the content that makes it so special (not to say the content is anything less than such). It’s the presentation. Bright exhibits, video explanations, hand’s-on tasks; it’s all part of the game at the Spy Museum. As McCartney belts in a verse “when you gotta’ job to do, you gotta’ do it well… you gotta’ give it everything you have.” Such a notion is no more readily apparent than in the varied exhibits that detail the secretive lives that spies must inherently lead to do their job well. Just as the song follows a pattern of restful, relaxing notes cascading into a crash of orchestral poundings and blares, so the Spy Museum leads you into an idealized sense of the intelligence world (the one given to us by television, Hollywood, and the media) only to bluntly bash you over the head with some of the stark, and sometimes brutal realities of working in such a dangerous field.
While the museum could easily be covered in under an hour, my mother and I found ourselves wandering its twisting halls for almost 3 1/2 hours, taking up a vast majority of our afternoon… a true testament to the entertaining nature of the museum. Of course, no museum visit would be complete without the quintessential trip to the gift shop, which we, of course made. Did I buy anything: no. But, if I would’ve brought some more funds with me, then I could have easily seen myself buying a Bond poster or two… or five… or six. Yes. I like James Bond that much.
Hubble IMAX 3D vs. Pink Floyd’s “Time”
Next on our agenda lies yet another trip to the National Air and Space Museum. That marks, I think, the third time I’ve gone to the Air and Space Museum… seeing a trend. However, despite relooking at the “Beyond” exhibit once more, we had an entirely different reason for going there. Let me give you a hint: It was on a huuuuggee screen and rhymed with “bubble.” Ahhhhh, you’re all too smart for me. Yes, mother bear and I went and saw the Hubble IMAX 3D “experience.” In case the words “Hubble,” “IMAX,” or “3D” is not enough to get you excited, let’s add four more. “Narrated by Leonardo DiCaprio.” Now, I don’t have some kind of magical tingle that shoots up my spine whenever Leo graces a movie screen, but, what I do have an appreciation for is an epic voice: one Leo has … especially when speaking about the mysteries of space. While I would have rather had the old, folksy wisdom of Morgan Freeman over anyone, any day; Leo still gets the job done, embracing the right amount of “pizzazzy-oomph” when explaining the grand scope of whatever happens to be floating, burning, or exploding right in front of your face (God bless 3D technology).
Before focusing, however, on the amazing mission to save the Hubble via one last repair mission, Leo pulls the Inception card out of the bag and explains how and why Hubble is so important to our understanding of space with some oh-so-glorious 3D, WOOOOOOOOWWWW-inducing imagery. As he scans through a deep-field image taken by the Hubble, Leo explains that as we were traveling “into” the image, we were in fact moving at multiple thousands, if not millions of light years per second… talk about a head trip. Yet, the craziness doesn’t end there. Traveling at those speeds, moving across those distances, means that the light displayed in the Hubble image has taken a journey through time to reach us: meaning, the image, and our subsequent journey through it was a journey through time itself. Confused yet? Cue up “Time” by Pink Floyd: the only band that can truly do space the proper justice it deserves. I couldn’t help myself, “Dark Side of the Moon” echoed eternally through my ears as Leo’s disembodied voice dove into an interstellar nursery, gas clouds shifting and pluming as baby stars pulsated energy around them. It was, dare I say, a mystical experience? It almost seemed too outrageous to be real. Oh yeah, there was also some stuff about the astronauts fixing the Hubble and such. It was good and all, but you can only watch so much of a dude trying to cramp himself into the side of a floating telescope for so long before you wished that they would just go back to the pictures the Hubble took. It’s a good thing a majority of the movie showcased either Hubble deep-field images, zero-G astronaut fun in the shuttle, or sweet spacewalk scenes. More importantly, they ended the show with the enhanced images taken by the new lenses and instruments they installed on the Hubble…sweet.
“Far away across the field, tolling on the iron bell calls the faithful to their knees, to hear the softly-spoken magic spell.” Such is the ending of Pink Floyd’s “Time,” and as such, so our experience ended with Hubble IMAX 3D; a thoroughly entertaining foray into not only how the Hubble was saved from ultimate disaster, but also what the Hubble does for our understanding of space and our universe accentuated by a compendium of the visual, 3D awesomeness.
Mount Vernon vs. The Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun”
Last, but certainly not least on mother bear and my “tour de D.C.” was the esteemed Mount Vernon. Having never been to Mount Vernon (or being too young to comprehend a previous visit), I was actually excited for what I heard was a wonderful area with a day’s worth of activities to be had. However, the decent-to-downright-poor weather of the last couple days had me skeptical of having as good of a time as was possible, especially at an almost universally outdoor site. But, lo and behold, I was dead wrong. Pulling up to Mount Vernon, the sun was shining, birds chirping, and the weather… stunning. It was a breezy, 65 degree day, all but eliminating the need for any form of jacket-ry. Arriving by about noon, mother and I got our tickets, watched a few introductory films about GW, ate a gourmet lunch at the in-house Pizza Hut (something tells me President Washington didn’t quite have anything remotely close to a Pizza Hut installed at Mount Vernon), and shambled off to explore the springy grounds of our nation’s first President.
As if you haven’t already learned this over and over from previous postings, this is usually where the music cues in. In this specific instance, I feel the day can be best explained by The Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun,” and due to the nature of my description of the day in which said song is applied… could you blame me?
We started the day with the “National Treasure Tour,” a tour where small groups are guided around Mount Vernon and shown the areas that were utilized by Disney’s film production crew when they shot some scenes for National Treasure 2: the Book of Secrets (hint: it’s the part in the movie where Nick Cage kidnaps the president). The tour itself was quite full featured for only being $5.00.
Showing us the basement of the Mount Vernon mansion, among other near-misses for most guests to Mount Vernon, the tour guide gave a genuinely interesting experience that we would have not gotten otherwise. It wasn’t the best, most-fully-fledged tour I’ve ever taken, but hey, sometimes it’s just fun to get the inside scoop on the Hollywood magic (including some of the surprising accuracies and falsities presented in the movie). But, it wasn’t until after the main tour that we had that the experience really began.
“Here comes the Sun, here comes the Sun. And I say it’s alright.” Nothing could have been further from the truth my friends. It had been a “long cold lonely winter,” and nothing could have unthawed my winter-blackened heart than the bright atmosphere of Mount Vernon. Flowers were blooming, people were everywhere, and there were dogs. Yes! Dogs are allowed to wander the grounds at Mount Vernon (not wild dogs you fools… tamed, leashed canines).
The light atmosphere, and shining sky helped add a little extra bounce to my step as we strolled along the waterfront, trekked across the grounds, and swept through all the museums. Simply put, it felt good to be alive, something I think the Beatles attempted to capture about the true emotions one decent day can bring.
The mansion itself was cool and all, but when they pump you in and out of it like an assembly line, it’s hard to truly enjoy everything it has to offer. Not to mention how terrible I feel for those poor workers. Saying the same thing at each station, over and over again… it’s gotta’ be tough. I’m pretty sure in the 45 to 60 seconds that I passed by George Washington’s personal bedroom, I heard the guide explain at least 6 times how GW died of Quinsy, a disease that sounds more like your awkward cousin’s name than a brutal inflammation of the throat.
All in all, the experience at Mount Vernon, and my general weekend with mother bear, was quite enjoyable and most refreshing. A simple day out in the sun, wind beating at my back was all this beaten, winter-weary soul needed to transition from snowy curmudgeon to an ecstatic outdoorsman. It might be slightly too soon to be wearing shorts, but screw it… Imma’ do it anyways. The sunshine is calling me. More importantly, summer is calling: beckoning us to its sweaty, balmy, mosquito-filled paradise… Wait a minute, that doesn’t sound enjoyable at all. In fact, that sounds downright, uncomfortably miserable. I would look forward to spring, but judging the fickle temperament of Mother Nature, spring was probably those two decent days come and gone. Oh well, looks like I’ll be counting down to winter a little earlier this year.
Image Credits:
Spy Museum Front:
http://www.citizette.com/storage/dc%20spy%20museum.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1277906204007
Spy Museum Interior:
http://www.planetware.com/i/photo/washington-international-spy-museum-washington-d-c-dc1002.jpg
Spy Museum Interior #2:
Hubble IMAX 3D Poster:
Star Nursery:
http://img.listal.com/image/1045147/936full-imax%3A-hubble-3d-screenshot.jpg
Astronauts Working:
http://images.allmoviephoto.com/2010_Hubble_3D/2010_hubble_009.jpg
Seagull with Arms:
Experience a Day in the Life of an Intern at The Washington Center
Coming Soon
