I just had a fabulous holiday, even though none of it went the way I had planned.
When I found out my daughter had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to play music with her high school band on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, I decided to make the 10-1/2 hour trip, too, along with my teenage son. But on the first day our car broke down in the Appalachian mountains, and that was only one of the things that went wrong. (Read more about the disasters in Part 1 of this story.)
Even after I found out my daughter's concert was canceled due to stormy weather and the whole point of our trip had washed away, I emerged from the Federal Triangle Metro station smiling. What happened to make our string of disasters, one of the most delightful holidays I've ever had? Here is my account of the accidental pleasures of our trip, each with its own lesson:
Day 1, Thursday - After my car started blowing smoke and I coasted to the highway shoulder, an altruistic motorist stopped to offer assistance and called a tow truck driver he knew. Roger, the tow-truck driver, seemed to know everyone in Monogahella County and carried on a number of conversations with folks in nearby vehicles stopped at rush hour traffic lights. We got a local color tour of Morgantown while we dropped our car off at the Toyota service department. It was no surprise that all the mechanics had gone home for the evening. But Roger didn't abandon us there. He took us to a charming, nearby hotel in the heart of Morgantown, the Hotel Morgan. We took a walk, found a sandwich shop, and returned to our lovely room–with excellent wireless and a spacious sitting area–to watch American Idol.
Lesson #1:
The whole stranded-by-the-side-of-the-road incident turned into an opportunity to allow people to help us. Key figures in our story, the man who stopped and called the tow truck and Roger, of course, who went far beyond towing our car to a shop. He made sure we were checked in with the hotel and that we'd received their best discount rate. (I teased him about being the hotel owner, driving his dad's truck as his cover. He swears he doesn't own the hotel. Maybe he's the town mayor. If he's not head of the Morgantown Chamber of Commerce, he should be.)
Day 2, Friday - We spent the morning in the dealership service waiting area–more excellent wireless–wondering if my car engine was destroyed and if this kind of catastrophic failure would be covered in the five-year manufacturer's warranty for the power train. On the bright side, even though we were both unhappy and impatient about how long it took, the service folks rearranged their schedule to help us, the stranded travelers, so we could be back on the road. The potentially catastrophic oil leak only cost $100 to fix and there was NO engine damage.
Lesson #2:
My son made significant progress on his last outstanding homework assignment. I fielded communication for the upcoming multi-media event I'm producing.
Finally, we got back on the road and made it to my friend Tina's house, a day late. She took us on a car tour of the capital and we went for a walk in Georgetown and ate at a fabulous seafood place called the Tackle Box.
Lesson #3:
My son–usually a picky eater–tried and liked his first raw oyster.
Day 3, Saturday - We were staying very close to a Metro stop with a commuters' parking garage, so we drove there, found that the parking is free on Saturdays (small reprieve), and bought day passes.
Lesson #4:
This was my son's first experience on light rail mass transit, and he loved everything about it: reading the maps, following the signs where we switched lines, people watching, big city stuff.
While we were waiting on the platform to change from the Red Line to the Blue Line, my daughter texted me that her 11 a.m. concert had been canceled. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But I knew we had a wet day to explore the city. Going on Tina's recommendation , we spent the morning in the Spy Museum. My favorite exhibit was the concealed button camera on a wool overcoat designed for KGB agents. My son's favorite was the glove gun, an ultra-cool assassination weapon. We both enjoyed the interactive simulations that tested our disguise detection skills.
Lesson #5:
My son and I both earned perfect scores on our spy game missions.
In the afternoon our first stop was the National Archives, but the umbrella-heavy line wrapped around the building discouraged us. My son wanted to return later to see the Declaration of Independence (featured in a very cool movie, National Treasure), but our path took us other directions and we never did make it back. I hoped to connect with the band kids at one of the sites, but they were on a tour bus and we were on foot, so our trajectories never meshed.
Lesson #6:
My son and I both exercised flexibility about our expectations for the day. Once the central expectation had been shattered, it seemed easier to "go with the flow." We experienced emotional growth as a team.
We headed to the Smithsonian where we each had picked out one particular exhibit to see. I chose the crocheted coral reef and adjacent aquarium of living coral at the Natural History Museum. My son chose the Star Spangled Banner, at the American History Museum. The huge, tattered flag, even with parts cut away from previous souvenir hounds, is still impressive.
Lesson #7:
I learned why the words of our National Anthem carry such power. The battle that inspired Francis Scott Key wasn't just any battle, with a navy ship bombarding a fort. In 1812, British forces were very close to winning the war. They had just burned Washington, D.C. to the ground. The young United States was in real danger of losing its independence. The dawn that the Star Spangled Banner still waved marked a turning point in the war.
My feet got tired and my son got hungry, so we navigated the subway again, like pros. That evening we went to a suburban mall with Tina, saw a fabulous movie Source Code and went shoe and hat shopping. In other words, we took a break from being serious tourists, and just kicked back and had fun.
Day 4, Sunday - The weather was perfect and that was certainly a key factor that made this day the best of the entire trip. Our mode of transportation was da bomb, too. Across the street from our downtown stop, the Federal Triangle Metro station, we'd spotted a bicycle rental shop, Bike and Roll, the day before, and though the group tours were already booked, the hourly rentals were plentiful and affordable. (I highly recommend this company. They have kiosks in 5 cities.)
My 13-year-old biker boy lobbied for the bicycle option. (He would have happily peddled in the torrential Saturday rain). I was a little nervous he would leave me in the dust, but it was clearly the ideal way to explore downtown D.C. and the memorials. Tina came, too, and even though she has toured them all before, she said bicycling with us was by far the best way to see the monuments.
Lesson #8:
Some of the most interesting public spaces are not marked as memorials on the tourist maps. When we rode our bikes across the street and through the colonnade of the Federal Triangle Metro station we found the Woodrow Wilson Plaza, and when we locked our bikes for a rest stop, we entered the "back door" of the largest building in DC. Not the Capitol Building, the Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center, which happens to contain an extensive art collection. Its dramatic atrium, used for all sorts of gala events, was almost empty–unlike all the overcrowded museums.
Once we were outfitted and had explored the neon sculpture, we toured all the major monuments around the mall, pedaling to each and parking to take closer looks. We saw: the Washington Monument (obelisk), the Lincoln Memorial (alas, no band), The Vietnam Veterans Memorial (where I touched the wall and cried over the 58,195 names), and the WWII Memorial (where a high school band from some other small town played music in the sunshine).
Lesson #9:
I read Lincoln's second inaugural address, which is carved on the wall to the right of his sculpture, opposite the Gettysburg Address. He gave this speech near the end of the Civil War, and spoke of the suffering so many had endured, the suffering of both the slaves who were soon to be freed and of the soldiers and families who lost so much on the battlegrounds. This was another place that brought tears to my eyes.
After a late lunch, we pedaled to the other side of the tidal basin to the Jefferson Memorial, a breathtaking, circular space with a towering sculpture of a visionary leader, Thomas Jefferson, with some of his visionary thoughts carved into the marble walls.
Lesson #10:
Even though the Jefferson Memorial is a fair distance from all the other memorials, people from all over the world walked to this space. (And the lucky ones, like us, rode bikes!) The sense I had can be summed up in one word: awe.
Last, but not least, we rode through the F.D.R. Memorial. And when I say rode, I mean this memorial is a series of plazas and courtyards and fountains. So we truly did not get off to park and lock our bikes. It was interesting to see human-scale bronze sculptures depicting Depression-era scenes, like bread lines along with FDR's words, "The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much, but whether we provide enough for those who have too little."
Lesson #—make it an even dozen:
I had never realized how patriotic I am. And, I'm so glad I was able to share all my discoveries with my boy.
Day 5, Monday - We started the morning with pancakes and loading the car. We had a blissfully uneventful trip home, listening to the audio book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
Final lesson:
The key to our success was our most gracious and generous hostess, Tina. She gave us a comfy bed and sofa and, as a bona fide foodie, she made sure we all had the best tasting and nutritious fuel possible. Food, rest, and friendship are, as every mother knows, the foundation for all good experiences. Everything else about our holiday fell apart, yet we had a fabulous time together.
Planning a trip is an important step to any holiday. But when nothing goes the way you had in mind, it may not be the ultimate sucky disaster, it may be the start of a delightful adventure. I urge my future self to remember how sweet it has been for me and my son to discover our journey as it unfolded, and to continue to stay open to the accidental pleasures along the way.
