working for the weekend
Like every other asshole who works in an office, I'm expected on Monday mornings to report on the status of my weekend. Typically, this results in a series of bland and vague generalities on my part to disguise the fact that I'm the most boring person alive. I mean, they know that - but still we pretend. It's a delicate dance. The Monday I finally go into work and openly admit "I spent the weekend arguing on the internet about pie" is the last Monday I ever want to see. I have some pride. So I kind of shocked even myself today when I recounted the details of forty-eight hours away from the mindless drudgery of work.
I guess, technically, I didn't do much on Saturday, in that I did only one thing. I went for an eighty mile bike ride - the original long version of the beach and pie ride. It's my second favorite of all the DC area rides, and I had a good day even though I didn't feel like riding when I woke up. It took a little longer than I might have hoped, but I felt great the whole day and let others set the pace. Afterward, I watched Barton Fink for about the fiftieth time. On Sunday, I slept in until almost eight o'clock before heading downtown to help out at the Team in Training tent at the inaugural Nation's Triathlon. My shift was supposed to be eleven to one, but most of the triathletes had passed by the time I arrived. We were at the transition area from bike to run, so we knew how many people were left to pass. It was only quarter after twelve when the last person came off the bike course to start running, so we were able to pack everything up and take off early. I had planned all along to kill some time with some touristy stuff, but with a little extra time I walked over to the triathlon finish on Pennsylvania Avenue on my way to the West Wing of the National Gallery of Art. When I got there - to the gallery - they searched my backpack, but also informed me that I would be required to check it. The disinterested woman I visited next told me I would have to remove all cameras and phones before leaving it. When I asked for clarification (I had both a camera and a phone that I didn't feel like carrying) I was told that I needed to take all electronics with me. I also had an MP3 player, and I really didn't feel like toting three items around. So I moved on to Plan B. I departed the National Gallery for the National Building Museum, which is a mere two blocks from DC's meager Chinatown. I'd just been there a few weeks prior to see the Eero Saarinen exhibit, but all I really wanted at this point was a place I could comfortably loiter in air conditioned splendor for about an hour (I had thought to bring a book along with me) and that is quite achievable in the vast interior of the Building Museum. It's a little-trafficked museum well off the beaten path, and it just so happens to be the District's most handsome structure. Frankly, I should have headed there from the outset. When I arrived, though, I wandered up to the information desk just to make sure there wasn't anything I hadn't already seen, and I noticed that a tour of the building itself was just beginning. I'd never done that, so after learning it would occupy only forty-five minutes, I signed on. That effectively - and informatively - killed the time until I was to meet up with Emma and Daby and Carrie Nation and Bernadette to see Burn After Reading. I'm still formulating my opinions on that movie, so I'll withhold comment at this time. Then we went for an early dinner at a good noodle place that Emma suggested. By this time, it was almost six, and though I wanted to be home in time for some football, I had time for a little Rock Band at Chez Daby/Nation; Bitches Britches needed a drummer, and I intended to wow them with my percussive ability. I didn't, but I brought the house down with my near perfect vocals on Radiohead's "Creep." And then I almost died, but I didn't know it at the time. I just knew the Rock Band - and much of the power - wasn't working and I had to get home anyway. So I went home and watched the Steelers kick the shit out of the Browns. It was a good end to an unusually busy weekend.
Comments
CN: I like the Jersey Devil comparison. Thanks!
in re your weekend: whoa. I'd been done ¼ of the way into the 80-mile ride that started it. quite a fun-filled weekend you had there.
where it reads I hadn't been too. it should read I hadn't been to.
(I hatehatehate not being able to edit comments. hear that, VOX?)
Don't know when was the last time you made it through town, but the Spy Museum (though not free) is pretty cool. And the Newseum (also not free) just recently opened in its new home, but I haven't yet been.
last time I swung by DC was ~ two years ago. it's really been too long.
been to the Spy Museum with the young nieces (it was a mistake, in retrospect, to take them there first: they hated every other museum we took them to. they wanted to go back to the Spy). been to the old Newseum, have to check and see if it is worth a revisit over the new location.