We’re vacationing in the nation’s capital. We’re doing the regular “tourist-tee” things — the monuments, 
the Smithsonians, etc. We’ve had some fairly “normal” experiences — you know, the “country mice” coming to the big city and dealing with the traffic, the rude drivers, the extra $$$ required to do normal things.
To save money, we’ve been packing our lunches and eating picnics each day. Simple, right? Not in Washington D.C. apparently!
Yesterday, while we were walking around Pennsylvania Avenue, suddenly there was an entourage of black limos, flashing lights, and maniac sirens flying by us down 14th Avenue (the North/South road that runs along the block beside the White House). Freaky, no doubt, but everyone around us acted like it was an everyday occurrence (we ARE in the nation’s capital, after all). Sure, we noticed all the extra police standing around. Wesley reminded us that D.C. is the murder capital of the nation. OK, no big deal, right?
We stopped to eat in a shady spot behind the West Wing of the White House. We weren’t far from Lafayette Park — a closed off lane just behind the White House where various people protest and set up tee-shirt stands. There was your nominal homeless man with the sign, “Restore trust in the USA — send Bush and Chenney to Jail”. There was a lady protesting nuclear weapons who has done it every day for 25 years. There was a guy dressed in an Uncle Sam’s outfit, campaigning for Barak Obama. It was just the kind of place that provided some interesting people watching while we ate our simple lunch.
So, as we’re munching through our carrot sticks, suddenly the large, metal cylinders that provide a street-wide block of traffic on the road rattle to life. I guess we hadn’t even really noticed them before. But as they retracted, across the next intersection, suddenly three police cards flipped on their sirens, and headed up the opposite street. While all this was going on, a couple of heavily tinted, black sedans cruised by us (over where the barricades had previously been), and turned the opposite direction of the police cars. Smoothly and quickly, the barricades rose again, leaving the street in front of us just the same. Like no one ever left the very secure area.
Over the next, say, ten minutes, about three or four other black sedans and pick up trucks replayed the security drama in front of us. In between times, the kids and us began noticing all the security cameras in the area. And the way the people passing us by kept looking at us. And the fact that the same homeless man from before had quietly moved closer to us — close enough to hear our coversations. I told the kids he must have been a secret service man “under cover.” They told me I was crazy.
One of the cars (a simple black car) had a woman driver and one passenger in the back seat — concealed and topped with a baseball cap — and seemed to go the opposite direction of the other cars. At that point, I started to tell the kids a made-up spy story involving our friend who does fireworks, and an huge, underground terrorist attempt involving a family eating lunch outside the White House …
If that wasn’t enough, on our Metro ride home, a middle eastern student sat in front of Ethan and Kara. He was unobtrusive, studing what looked like Arabic, loose-leaf pages. He wore dark glasses (even though it was already dark outside, not to mention the darkness of the tunnels) and carried a plain, brown paper bag. I really didn’t notice him, until Ethan tried to take a picture of Wesley and Aubree, sitting in the seat in front of the student. Suddenly, he yelled, “No pictures! No pictures!” and put a stack of the documents he was studying between him and the camera. Needless to say, it freaked Ethan out a bit. I took the camera, apologized, and explained that my other children were sitting in front of him, and they were the intended subjects of the photo.
But then I watched him the rest of the trip. OK, I can let my creative imagination get away with me. But I tell you what, after hearing the stories of the terrorist “practicing” by riding on the airplanes before 9-11 … I know, I know. But I did watch him, through the reflection on the windows. And when he got off our exit, he waited to let me off. I folded my hands, and respectfully waiting and said, “Please. You first.” He had taken his glasses off by that time, and looked me right in the eye. “Thank you,” he smiled. And although it was probably nothing, I took note of his height, the time, the location. After all, it’s D.C., right?
It got better today. When we left the National Zoo, we were pulled over in a “random” search line. The officer said it was a “routine” check to see if we had all our paperwork (registration, driver’s license, etc.) in order. Now, he said, “So, you guys were at the zoo?” and we said yes. “Are you with that car that just went ahead? You guys traveling together?” No, we replied. When we showed him our paperwork, and he saw we were from Michigan, he said, “Oh, sorry. Have a great day, folks.” Wow. Spot searched and asked for documentation right in our nation’s capital. Weird, weird — and very unsettling.
Of course, we assumed something had gone wrong or been stolen from the zoo. Or perhaps, it was just what he said, a “random” stop. But after all the drama of the day before, we just added it to our Washington “story.”
There’s just way too much drama in this town. We’re headed to the ocean, to a little seaside town tomorrow for a while. I need a break from this crazy, wild city.
Walked in the cold morning air, and felt really, really alive.
