In the interests of full disclosure, my destination for this weekend is actually Alexandria, in the fair state of Virginia, where The Nuke lives.
No, no, no. My daughter who was a nuclear propulsion type, aka "nuke," in the Navy. So her nom de blog is The Nuke. Alexandria, to my knowledge, has no nuclear weapons within the city limits. Not that I would know anything about that anyway. Why am I mentioning all this? I have no ideer. (To paraphrase the late, and much lamented, Buck.)
While my destination is Northern Virginia, I always tell people that I'm going to D.C. In my business, everyone knows where D.C. is. Your average citoyen knows where D.C. is. However, if I tell folks I'm going to Alexandria, some of the more geographically challenged will invariably ask, "Where's that?" Then I have to explain, the explanation will eventually turn to tales of both the War Between the States and the French and Indian War.
Uh Sarge, I get the War Between the States reference but the French and Indian War?
Yeah, the French and Indian War. The British force which was eventually defeated at the Battle of the Monongahela initially landed in Alexandria. Marched up Oronoco Street they did, a street I've been down many times, and yes, I did picture the lobsterbacks moving up from the Potomac to their bivouac as I walked along. (Sweating in their wool uniforms and grumbling in British accents all the while.)
I did the same thing walking along the Champs-Élysées in Paris. No, I didn't picture British troops marching along that lovely street. No, I pictured the Germans marching through in 1940, (no, I didn't mention that to the French) and then les Américains doing the same in 1944. I did mention that. Oh, and for what it's worth, the American parade was much bigger than the German parade, which, as parades go, was pretty lame. But not if you were French, that was humiliating.
Of course, at some point in my historical discourse, eyes will start to roll and heads will start to droop. So, "I'm going to D.C." suffices for the occasion.
But I digress.
This coming weekend I will be headed south for to commemorate the passing of Captain Carroll F. LeFon, Jr. U.S. Navy (retired) with a number of boon companions. It has been five years since that wonderful guy lost his life out at NAS Fallon. In years past we (those of us who call ourselves Lexicans) have gathered out in Sandy Eggo to hoist a Guinness (or three) and sip a Jameson's as we ponder life and enjoy each others' company. The Hobbit has always been there, which is why this year we gather in Alexandria. Or near Alexandria. Hang on, I'll get to that.
The Hobbit, or Mrs. Lex as she is sometimes called, is the host of this gathering. This year we hope to convince her to not pay for everything. She is generous to a fault and lovely to boot, both in visage and in spirit. She has returned to the homeland of Virginia, where she and Lex spent their youth, so this year's gathering is there. But not exactly in Alexandria. For the residents of that fair city have their St. Patrick's Day parade on the very Saturday we plan to meet. Basically filling up all the good pubs on that day. So...
We shall instead meet and greet each other in the fair town of Arlington (no Juvat, not at the Pentagon), said locale being but a stone's throw from Alexandria. Same state, same area, in fact they stand shoulder to shoulder (kind of) along the banks of the mighty Potomac. Friends of mine from the area give this particular pub a thumbs up. (Which will remain unnamed at this time. No Scott, it's not called Voldemort's.)
When told of the change of venue, all I asked was, "Do they have Guinness?"
Something to do with bears and popes was mentioned. So I took the answer to my interrogatory to be, "Yes, yes they do."
Hopefully in mass quantities. Though as The Missus Herself will be in attendance, I must needs be behave myself, to some extent.
In other news, while I have avoided writing about politics and the antics of those who pretend to be someone else (no, I didn't watch that show where they hand out bright metal statues of some naked dude), I still read about such doings. This I found to be most entertaining. Just because you're good at pretending to be an expert, doesn't mean you are.
Heck, I get paid to do that. Be an expert that is, though there are days I sort of pretend...
Especially Monday mornings. Who knows anything on a Monday morning other than that the weekend's over?
I mean really...