I haven’t mentioned the fact that on this trip I was Miss Daisy being driven around. It was a most excellent situation to be in since I am typically the driver everywhere Frank and I go and to be honest, while I could drive in new places, it is very stressful for me and being a passenger was a pleasure. I could gawk at the sites without putting anyone’s life in danger.
In route to DC, we stopped and had lunch with my Aunt Hazel and Uncle Larry, then dropped in on an old high school friend of Frank’s, Dylan. Dylan lives on a lake and has an amazing collection of antique furniture, and a comprehensive list of typical tourist activities and a few items of things that are not on the top tier of activities that tourists must do. After meeting his boyfriend Will, we made plans to meet the following day and then headed to our B&B, the William Lewis House.
I have this notion in my head that I would like to run a B&B someday, so every time we stay at one, it becomes like a research project for me. What do they do well, what could they do differently, etc. Hmm. This was a learning experience. To put this in perspective, Washington DC seems to be going through a “gentrification” process similar to San Francisco, so areas that would have been off limits ten years ago are up-and-coming. My Uncle Larry mentioned that the location of our B&B was in one of the areas where, because of the color of our skin, might not have been the safest places to be after dark. Hmm.
So we drove into the city and as we headed up 14th street memories of touring the streetwalkers flooded my memory. My mother’s comments, that the girls were operating on the steps of the church spoke up loud and clear and then I remembered trying to turn around and getting stuck on a side street where the cars in front of us stopped and the folk of the neighborhood gathered around. We did not honk. We waited patiently. Eventually, our little family of four left the neighborhood with a lesson learned not to go down side streets. This is where we were going to be staying.
A lot has changed since the early 80’s and our street was safe. There was a solid gay influence and the 17th street (the primary gay district with cafes and shops) was only a hop, skip, and three clicks of our ruby covered slippers. We had to circle a bit but found the B&B and after much maneuvering parked the car for three days – opting to leverage the very efficient DC Metro and of course Dylan when he had time to tour us around.
The William Lewis House is spectacular with its vintage furniture, well-appointed rooms and such, but the B&B aspect of it is a little odd. The B&B has expanded from one building to two with a shared backyard and porch for common use. Breakfast was served in the other building from us and we had to make reservations for breakfast on Saturday and Sunday mornings. So far, so good.
We should have known that there were some quirks with the people who ran the place when we received an email that emphatically stated that we had not notified them when we would arrive. This clue would have better prepared us for the anal retentive details that marked the place. The front gate was labeled push here, close here. Signs about NOT eating in common rooms were prominently placed everyone. Don’t scratch the walls, don’t walk heavily, don’t talk loudly, don’t leave you stuff in the bathroom, this end of the shower door goes against the wall; this end goes to the other. I felt like I was being taught a new language – the language of what not to do. I realize that there are certain social reminders that would be useful, as guests are not typically sharing space or a single bathroom. The note on what to do if the water turned scalding seemed appropriate, but the barrage of notes and reminders at every turn did not say welcome, use common sense. AND my Virgo sensibilities kicked in when the inconsistencies presented themselves. Keeping areas clean is one thing, however, clean up the office area. The kitchen in our building was now serving as the “office” but it was stacks and stacks of paper. The back steps had yard supplies stacked. The dining area was not cleared of dishes from the morning and after a full day of sweating our way through DC; our room had not been cleaned when we returned at the end of the day. I say, hold up your end of the bargain.
I should state that both men also had “day jobs,” so the running of the B&B was a side venture and not their primary occupation. Still, with all of the notes around there wasn’t any indicator as to what to do with their dog – could we let her into the back yard? Should we keep her inside? What to do? Anyway, we did enjoy the idea of serving a “formal” meal on Saturday and Sunday at a specific time though we didn’t find ourselves necessarily friendly with the other guests. The bald know-it-all tried to hold court and be the wisdom dispenser to all the newbies. He gushed to the owners about such a fine establishment, he gushed about the bars, the events, and the events in New York and in San Francisco and when he wasn’t the center of attention ran off to the living room to read the paper. Frank gently reminded me that I probably wouldn’t like most of the people that walked through the door – if I ran a place, I’d have to keep that in mind. Hmm. Would I recommend the place? For the price and location, it served its purpose. Did I get warm fuzzies and want to send a thank you note … not on your life.
Day 1 – DC
Our first full day was spent at the Holocaust museum. I had been there about ten years ago when I went to fly Grandma Lois back home. At the time it was winter and the streets were fairly empty and barely contrasted with the skiffs of snow and wind. I remember the set up, where I was given an “ID” and then I followed my person through the museum, which started with the rise of the Nazi party. At one point, my person didn’t make it and the impact was profound. This visit still had the card but it was a summary and on the ride up the elevator I reviewed my person and his history before reaching the top floor, which took away from the impact and the personalization of the experience. It is still a moving experience but the difference now was that hundreds of students were pushing their way past, crowding the screen and working their way quickly through the exhibits. Some have asked, do I miss teaching? Nope. I’m glad those lovely little people were someone else’s responsibility and not mine. It is a good thing to have to keep my own self in check and not 30 other people at varying levels of maturity.
Afterwards, Dylan picked us up and to us to the Franciscan Monetary of the Holy Land. Now imagine if Walt Disney was a devout Catholic instead of an atheist and he built a recreation of all of the holy land sites and placed them in one location so that people who couldn’t afford to go to the holy land could still experience the sites. The gardens had recreated tombs, alters, Virgin Mary grottos, and a recreation of the church the St. Francis built. In the gift shop, you could purchase pictures of saints, blessed dog tags and collars, and any number of items including a limited edition of the Pope John.
Our tour began with one of the curators chatting away about the fully scale models of the areas and the mission of the people. Once he discovered that Frank and Dylan were from Texas he went into a diatribe about the people jumping over the border and of course, how they were now helping the economy. Hmm. What would Jesus do?
Anyway, a brother in official robes led us on the tour of the church, which included a replica of the holy site of Golgotha, Christ’s tomb, the catacombs, a dead baby saint semi-mummified and paintings of purgatory. References to the fact that the location of the real sites was probably safer than where we were seemed to indicate a bias toward the neighbors and was a touch judgmental. I love the fact that according to scriptures the distance between Calvary (Sp?) and Joseph’s tomb where Jesus was for three days was a mere 200 years apart from each other. Who am I do question someone’s mathematical equations – I taught English for a reason. It was a bizarre experience but one that I warrant is not on the top places to visit when in DC. After the Franciscans, we drove out to the Awakening (a man emerging from the ground) and the FDR memorial.
Day Two – Bike the Sites
Frank and I have both been to DC on numerous occasions and so did not feel compelled to see the typical sites. It had been recommended that we locate a tour group, which conducted their tours on bikes. We signed up for the three-hour tour and had a great time exploring the area around the mall. The Japanese Internment camp memorial was a highlight for me and reminded me of the book, Farewell to Manzanar, which I read as a sophomore in high school and later taught. Other highlights included the World War II memorial, the Korean War Memorial.
After the tour ended, Frank and I went to the Washington Hotel, which overlooks the White House and had lunch on the top deck. We waved at the George but he must have been busy with Tony Blair because there was no indication that he saw us or that he sent his personal greeting.
What trip to DC would be complete without going to the Smithsonian? Disney had just donated an original “Dumbo” and a “Tea Cup” for display and we saw Julia Child’s kitchen, Seinfeld’s pirate shirt and of course, Judy Garland’s ruby red slippers from the movie, The Wizard of Oz. At the National Gallery there was a Toulouse Lautrec (sp?) exhibit, which I found fascinating, though at that point my feet and body were worn out from the tour and the heat. It was time to head back home.
Local establishments were geared up for DC Pride and aside from the smoke, the people were friendly. I saw an ad about a drag show at a Ziegfields, so after dinner at Annie’s we jumped on the Metro and rose from the underground to a very unsavory area. The club was split into two large rooms and the show started at 11:30. Hmm. Let’s just say, I don’t think these girls would pass during the day but were fabulous in their own way. The crowd was an interesting array of young and old, men and women, and to be honest a good-looking crowd. We didn’t stay for the second show and opted to walk the well-lit route back to the Metro. The following day on the news, we noted, with some horror that someone had been stabbed at that station, thus validating Frank’s concern. Be aware of you surroundings.
Day Three – The Masons and DC Pride
Another recommendation from Dylan was to go the Botanical Gardens, the Native American Indian museum and the Light House at Alexandria – George Washington National Masonic Memorial. So, dressed to walk, we headed out and visited the gardens. The space outside of the glass house looks like it will be spectacular once the renovations are complete and the Indian museum (representing all of the Americas North and South) was well done. I appreciated the non-linear approach to the exhibits and found myself wandering into dead-ends and then backs out; a contrast to typical museum spaces I’m accustomed to. From there we traveled on to Alexandria and explored the seaport area, had lunch, then went to play with the Masons.
Dylan had set the stage when he told us that the collection included George’s false teeth and other artifacts, but he had not warned us that we would be held hostage to the Mason’s for an hour. Oy vey. Okay, I’ve seen a lot of pictures of good old George but never the 20-foot stature with him decked out with all of his Masonic symbols. It was interesting to hear about the “out” masons and the “closeted” masons and the fact that there have been 15 presidents who were also masons. Fair enough.
We arrived in time to participate in the final tour of the day and our guide looked like a mortician – well, a twenty-something dressed like a mortician. He had pasty skin and a broad smile and would quietly walk up behind and make a comment on something I was looking at. The first time he did this startled me completely. So, the tour. We got on the elevator and arrived at the first hall where a well-appointed display of George, the man, the farmer, the statesman, the general, etc., were displayed. Fine. Our guide, quietly asked if any of the “men” were masons? We all said, “No.” and he apologized for us. The next floor was a pseudo-biblical room with paintings of scenes from the Bible and ending with a recreation of the Ark of the Covenant. Did I mention the light show and audio voiceover that circled us around the room telling each detail? Creep. Let’s go up another floor! A chapel, complete with Jesus on the cross with … Masonic symbols. I’m feeling very uneasy at this point and we still have another room to visit. The top floor, which also has access to the lookout deck, is a miniature recreation of King Solomon’s throne room – little lion whelps lined the steps. We went out and saw the view and were ready to go down. Nope. Our tour guide was in deep conversation with one of the couples and pretty much made us wait. And wait. And wait. I’m feeling uneasy and claustrophobic. Finally, we were in the group that went down first, where he let us off in the darkened hall with the 20-foot George. All the doors were locked. Creepy. He finally gathered us up and took us to the basement where we finally made our way into the sun and waited for Dylan and Will to pick us up. Did I mention the entire experience was creepy?
Luckily the sights and sounds of DC Pride erased all that. Unlike our 4-hour plus extravaganza the parade was a small affair that lasted an hour. There were the dykes on bikes, the gay cops, a couple of bar floats, and my favorite was the clogging cowboys. Following the parade we had dinner and then headed back to the B&B for our last night in DC.
The vacation was a success overall, though, like all good vacations, I should have scheduled an extra day to recoup before heading back to the office. Oh well. Live and Learn.
