THORNBERRIES AND GREERS IN D.C.--Part II

Mon, May 12, 2008—Making the Best of a Soggy Situation

Naturally, the different values between the Greers and the Thornberries needed to be addressed. Jennifer and I typically like to sleep later on vacations than do the Greers, and we have different levels of investment in the sights. Ergo, we had predetermined that we’d find our own way to the Metro station and meet up with the Greers in D.C. for lunch later. So we got up leisurely and partook of the Comfort Inn’s delicious complementary breakfast.

Art for Art’s Soak

After Jennifer and I polished off our breakfasts, we caught the hotel transit vehicle and rode over to the subway. Forty or so minutes later, we stepped out into Washington D.C. itself. Our destination? The branch of the Smithsonian Museum known as the National Gallery of Art.

That’s when we heard it.

You know that whistling sound a large falling object always makes in cartoons? The one with the cute little Doppler shift right up until said object crashes to the ground? That was almost what we heard, and then…

WHAM!!

…a monumental sheet of icy-cold rainwater smashed to the ground like a pane of unbreakable glass, flattening Jennifer and me both against the sidewalk. Flailing, bubbles emerging from our throats along with our wordless screams, we found ourselves suddenly being carried by fast-moving currents! They slammed us into mailboxes, Romanesque pillars, taxi-cabs and conservative Republicans.

“Grab my hand!” I shouted, trying in vain to hold onto Jennifer as she was swept away from me and toward a gutter. “I’ve been resting my feet!” she returned and showed me by using them to grab my head in a secure vice. Effectively tethered together, we howled at the unfair heavens, while water churned and frothed right up to our eyeballs. My head held between two large sneakers, I had a brief moment to catch Jennifer’s gaze, during which time, I stated, “You should know I’ve always lov—aaaaugh!”

Whatever I’d been about to say was cut off when we plunged over a small waterfall, bounced off a minivan and crawled painfully onto a concrete beach across the street from the FBI building (celebrating its 100th anniversary, by the way).

The wave of rainwater washes the Travelin' Thornberries up near the 100-year old FBI's headquarters.

Shivering and miserable in the rain, we shook the codfish out of our shoes, dumped the sand out of our crevices and pulled our flimsy umbrellas from their storage place. Although we caught some nice pictures on our subsequent walk, it was about the soggiest day we’d seen all flippin’ year. Nevertheless, we slogged onward, dodging delicious bass that the tides continued to lob at us. At last, a tsunami lifted us bodily into the air and slammed us into a bruised and broken pile at the National Gallery of Art. It was immediately obvious to us that Washington D.C. had changed since our visit in 1999. This time, the museum employees searched our bags before we were allowed inside. In a world of terrorism, no one feels safe anymore.

Inside, the lady to whom we turned in our coats, bags and wet umbrellas was one of those classic self-absorbed, clueless, slothlike, slope-browed individuals Jennifer and I have encountered everywhere across the thousands of miles we’ve traveled. She was a also the model of a government employee; she had no fear of being fired, and thus, never once showed any courtesy or even acknowledged we were standing there. She just absently chewed her cud and yakked on the phone with her mouth full. She made no attempt to hurry. Before I handed our bag over to her, I got out our hot iron and handed it to Jennifer. Hisssss! Jennifer pressed it into the woman’s flank, leaving a scorched mark on the loudly lowing recipient. Congratulations, ma’am. You have just been branded a “cow” by the Travelin’ Thornberries! [For an explanation of “cow” as used here, see our narrative, Travelin’ Thornberries Enjoy Boston Tea Party!]

Thomas looks upon a Rembrandt self-portrait; ironically, he wrote a paper on this piece in 1993.

Jennifer and I were most of the way through the sculpture when Jennifer’s stomach rumbled, rattling the floor and almost toppling a Rodan sculpture. Getting hungry, obviously, we called the Greers, learning they were doing the Korean exhibit. With some finagling, we arranged a time to meet them at their museum for lunch.

A story about people eating really isn’t that interesting. The short version is we ate in a really crowded place, shared our experiences with the Greers and then split back up again to finish our respective museums. At closing time, we rendezvoused at Barnes and Noble and had coffee. Naturally, I bought a book on Latin.

Tired and stuffed with pictures, we traveled back to the room, had a great meal out and prepared for the next day.


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