The alarm goes off at the usual hour of six a.m., but I purposefully stay in bed knowing I have time to burn. But sleep overtakes me. I wake up 30 minutes later and rush through my routine, although I wasn't able to watch the segment on Johanna brooks, Jon Stewart's special guest on the Daily Show. After checking that the house was secure, I grabbed my stuff and walked two blocks to the bus stop. After a short bus ride to the Lloyd Center, I transferred to a MAX train to the airport. And thus began my maiden voyage to our nation's capital city.
Night-walk in D.C.
My flight to Baltimore was pretty easy, with a stop in KC to drop off most of the plane's passengers and pick up some fat cattle other people. Armed with my Zune, my Nexus 7, and my old-skool Kindle, the time passed quickly. I turned my phone on as soon as I could and found a text from my mistress, with whom I had scheduled a brief rendezvous to ease back into life with a family. And maybe to celebrate being together for a dozen years. It was a nice surprise, nonetheless, to see her waiting at baggage claim--to have that cinematic moment, that awkward brew of emotions finally bubbling over and giving way to actual, physical contact. My first words to Meg: "Never leave me again." During the 26 days of abandonment (trust me, it felt longer), I tried to liken my situation to a soldier who has been deployed to some foreign land to fight an evil war, but I always came back to the same conclusion: I am not doing anything honorable to warrant such a comparison. Regardless, reunion with love felt sweetly surreal.
Two large and funny-looking dudes
After grabbing my bags and finding our "rental" car--thanks Emma--we drove into Downtown D.C. and parked the car under the Grand Hyatt where we had a room for the next two nights. We dropped off our luggage in our 8th floor room and then ventured out into the night to see the city. I felt leery walking around an unfamiliar, big city at night, but the worst we saw was a rat and a cockroach--the surprising part to me was that they didn't seem concerned with our presence (they were both huge, by the way). The most bothersome thing was the heat and humidity; Oregon has been averaging a daily high of around 75 degrees, so the change was drastic and difficult for me to adapt. But I just tried to keep up with Meg as she took me around the city like she had lived there for the past year.
We probably retired for the evening around midnight--somewhat early for my West Coast body--but we had a date with the President first thing Saturday morning. The trouble was that we were in a room right next to the vending machines and the ice maker, which apparently was a very attractive place to hang out and make noise. At like three in the morning, Meg opened our door and politely asked them to be quiet and take their party back to their rooms, at which point they screamed back and banged on our door telling her to shut-up (as well as other choice words). The next morning Meg gave the hotel an ear-full, and they moved us as far away as possible for our final night's stay, which proved a much more calm and quiet location.
Library of Congress
At the rear of The White House
Our first stop Saturday Morning was The White House. Yes, the same place where my buddy Barack lives. I had to apply for tickets three months in advance, and I received them a week or two before I left for D.C. Because of what I had to go through to procure the tickets, I thought it would be an intimate if not exclusive event. When we arrived at the gate at 7:15 a.m., we took our place in line behind a hundred other excited people. After passing through like three security points of Secret Service detail, we finally entered the building. The building was huge, and ornate, and old (in a good way), but it came off as quite anti-climatic, as you could visit only a few of the rooms, none of which had any Obamas in them. I'm not sure what I expected, but the experience fell flat for me. The most memorable thing was Meg asking one of the Secret Service officers to put her in a headlock or to tackle her as she ran across the lawn; those guys are hardcore: they didn't grin, giggle, or look at her twice.
We returned to our hotel to grab my camera (you can't take ANYTHING into The White House) and then found the nearest bike share station. For $7/day/bike, this was a great way to get around the city. After checking out a bike, the first 30 minutes are free, and you can park them at any other station around town. Meg commented that the bikes were the best she'd ever ridden, while I expressed the opposite. Maybe she was trying to tell me that she wants a better bike at home. We walked all around the National Mall, seeing the Lincoln Memorial, then grabbed some bikes and headed up Capitol Hill to see the Library of Congress. Wow: what a building. I have fond memories of visiting the state capitol in Salem and was always amazed at the huge murals in the rotunda--I could stare at them for hours. But Salem's capitol building pales in comparison. I probably bumped into a handful of people in the Library of Congress because of all the time I spent studying the beautiful intricacies of the ceiling, the stairs, the floors--everything.
Clouds of mercy protected my fair skin
We eventually took an underground tunnel from the Library of Congress to the US Capitol building, where we ate lunch in the cafeteria and Meg took a nap on a bench while I explored the visitor's center before our tour was scheduled for later in the afternoon. We drew a super guide for our tour, as he was knowledgeable, friendly, and had a loud voice. Meg kept asking me if I thought the Capitol was huge, but it didn't dawn on me how big it was until after we walked through just a few sections of it.
After the Capitol, we hopped on the bikes again and rode back down the hill to visit one of the Smithsonians--the National Museum of American History, where we spent hours (and not even seeing everything). I think a person could spend a week visiting all of the museums and historic sites in D.C. without getting bored.
On our ride back to our hotel, it started to rain--just a little bit at first, but by the time we reached the nearest bike station, we were drenched. The rain continued through the early evening, thwarting our desire to leave the hotel for dinner, so we ended up in the basement at their sports bar. The rain retreated by the end of our meal, so we ventured out and had desert at Ruth's Chris. Don't ask me what we had or what went down.
Sunday morning we rose early again and rode our bikes around the National Mall again and made one last stop at the Jefferson Memorial. We were going to stay in town for the rest of the morning and early afternoon, but Meg changed her mind and wanted to go back "home" and surprise the kids, whom I forgot to mention were in the care of Meg's sister Nichole, and weren't expecting us until much later. After an hour or so drive south into Virginia, we pulled into the local LDS church parking lot, found some seats in the chapel a few rows behind the Booren mob, and watched someone else deal with our kids (Ian at one point turned around and saw us, but then he promptly laid his head in Nichole's lap and fell asleep--what are you trying to tell me, Ian?). After the service had concluded, and the older boys were walking away to their sunday school classes, I called out to them and witnessed their priceless reactions: Edward immediately ran over, jumped in my arms, and hugged me for what seemed like a minute straight; Aaron stared at me, sized me up--almost as in disbelief at what he was seeing--then calmly walked over and gave me a standing hug (both feet firmly planted on the ground--I can barely lift the boy anymore, anyway).
And thus the Asays were reunited in full and ready for the next big adventure on the East Coast: Virginia Beach.
1999 symbolizes my "freedom" time: I was a college graduate, gainfully-employed, virtually debt-free, and single/childless. I pretty much did what I wanted and didn't have to report to anyone or commit to any thing. This past week felt like I had stepped backwards in time, as Meg decided, on a whim, to drive to Salt Lake City--with kids in tow--and stay with my parents for a week. Since I wasn't part of the road trip, you'll have to encourage her to share any stories , although she has confessed to me that she's done with blogging. Here are the highlights of the back-in-time party that was this week: Exercise : Besides my daily 11-mile round trip commute by bike to the office, I went on three other bike rides around Clackanomah County, swam at the pool twice, and ran once. Cleaning : Organized some of our outdoor living space, cleaned the house from top-to-bottom, washed the G20, cleaned my bike, and manicured the outside landscape. Sleep : Every night wa...
I don't think I've been on a true backpacking trip before. Back in high school, my friend Bart and I planned a multi-day trip to Carl Lake, but we ended up turning around after one night of camping at Cabot Lake because it was raining so much and we'd rather stay at his family's cabin instead. I also hiked up to Moraine Lake as a scout leader, on the way to South Sister, where we camped in preparation to summit Oregon's third tallest peak, but we left all of our gear at the lake on the second leg of our climb. That was back in 2001. I first learned of the Timberline Trail by reading a brief summary of it in, of all places, Portland Monthly. Sure, it was 35 miles farther than I had ever backpacked before, and it involved two more days and nights, and I would be going solo. But the summer of 2016 is all about change and new beginnings for me. Day 1: Timberline Lodge to Ramona Falls I slept in Tuesday morning, as I was up late Monday night making my final preparat...
It all started with a tweet. The tweet guided me to a blog. The blog inspired me to craft an e-mail. The e-mail led to a phone call. And the phone call led to my agreeing to trade my 1993.5 Infiniti G20 for a 2010 Black Sheep commuter bike (1 of only 13 in existence). All of this happened within 24 hours. From New Bike An informal part of our agreement to move to Portland was for me to get rid of my car, since I had committed to biking or riding the bus to work--and I never did drive the G20 once we moved to Portland, except once every other week or so to keep the fluids moving through the car. I had posted my car for sale at the G20 enthusiasts' site , but I didn't get any substantial bites, nor did I do much to promote its sale (Meg would like me to remind you that I took a year to sell my del Sol after buying the Maxima ). So when I saw a blog post about New Belgium's car swap at the Tour de Fat , I called Meg and proposed the idea to her. She thought it sounde...
We returned to our hotel to grab my camera (you can't take ANYTHING into The White House) and then found the nearest bike share station. For $7/day/bike, this was a great way to get around the city. After checking out a bike, the first 30 minutes are free, and you can park them at any other station around town. Meg commented that the bikes were the best she'd ever ridden, while I expressed the opposite. Maybe she was trying to tell me that she wants a better bike at home. We walked all around the National Mall, seeing the Lincoln Memorial, then grabbed some bikes and headed up Capitol Hill to see the Library of Congress. Wow: what a building. I have fond memories of visiting the state capitol in Salem and was always amazed at the huge murals in the rotunda--I could stare at them for hours. But Salem's capitol building pales in comparison. I probably bumped into a handful of people in the Library of Congress because of all the time I spent studying the beautiful intricacies of the ceiling, the stairs, the floors--everything.
Sunday morning we rose early again and rode our bikes around the National Mall again and made one last stop at the Jefferson Memorial. We were going to stay in town for the rest of the morning and early afternoon, but Meg changed her mind and wanted to go back "home" and surprise the kids, whom I forgot to mention were in the care of Meg's sister Nichole, and weren't expecting us until much later. After an hour or so drive south into Virginia, we pulled into the local LDS church parking lot, found some seats in the chapel a few rows behind the Booren mob, and watched someone else deal with our kids (Ian at one point turned around and saw us, but then he promptly laid his head in Nichole's lap and fell asleep--what are you trying to tell me, Ian?). After the service had concluded, and the older boys were walking away to their sunday school classes, I called out to them and witnessed their priceless reactions: Edward immediately ran over, jumped in my arms, and hugged me for what seemed like a minute straight; Aaron stared at me, sized me up--almost as in disbelief at what he was seeing--then calmly walked over and gave me a standing hug (both feet firmly planted on the ground--I can barely lift the boy anymore, anyway).
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