Another trip, another awakening at the crack of dawn. Check that, we were up well before the sun. We even beat the birds out of bed.
The drive to the airport was, thankfully, uneventful. Got to Long Term Parking, got the bus to the terminal and started checking in. That's when The Missus Herself let me know that she had left her carry-on travel bag in the car. Of course at 0500 I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, so I stare at her for a moment, then say, "Why?"
The look on her face is interesting. I imagine it's the look a tiger gives an antelope just before pouncing.
She asks for my keys, which are given over, and out the door she goes. The shuttles run back and forth quite frequently at the butt crack of dawn so she is confident that she has ample time to retrieve her carry-on.
I, on the other hand, am not so confident as I see my carefully crafted plan begin to fall apart. (Carefully crafted, as in, I made her get up early enough so that we'd have about 90 minutes before our flight after arriving. Now we were down to 55 minutes and the clock was ticking.)
The line going through Security was very long, while at that time of day most of the others were business travelers and were cognizant of how to go through Security, there are always one or two who apparently wandered down from the hills that very morning and had decided to "catch the aeroplane out to see Cousin Cletus out yonder in Oklahoma." Not to cast aspersions on the wonderful and fine folks out there in Oklahoma. Where I'm told that the "wind comes whistling down the plain."
My sole foray to Oklahoma was in the 1980s, ya know, back in the last century. That was just a "pass-through" as we computer types might call it. I was accused of being lost, I reassured the crew and passengers of the Sargemobile that I was not lost but knew exactly where we were.
"And where might that be honey?"
"Oklahoma my dear. Where the wind comes whistling down the plain."
"Where in Oklahoma?"
"Hhmm, while I cannot give you a precise location within the state, I can assure you that we are on an eastbound highway."
"And sometime today we will reach Arkansas." (Said state I pronounced "Arrr Kansas" as a child. Ah well, I was young and pronounced it that way until corrected by a close, personal friend.)
"It's pronounced, Ar-kan-saw ya moron."
"Ah, thank you my dear friend." Or words to that effect.
Oh, about that opening photo, that is most assuredly not my ride to DC. (I wish.) I'm on my tablet which (at the moment) has a dearth of photos. That's one of the few, which might have been part of a Flyby some time ago. I think.
Okay, been out and about the town, so I have some more photos to share.
Before heading out to get some lunch I was on Facebook. A friend of mine out Colorado way (we had served in Germany together) mentioned a place by the name of Gadsby's Tavern. He recommended it, so we went there. Now I'm recommending it.
Food was excellent, atmosphere was superb and the drink, my word, the drink!
|The Tavern's Front Door|
|The Sign Out Front|
|One of General Washington's Favorites...|
|This one is based on a recipe from Ben Franklin. Delicious!|
|Alexandria's Waterfront, view looking towards National Harbor (across the river).|
Yes, I am enjoying myself.