We Managed To Stand Up

without knocking too many people over, which was no small feat. And then we managed to fight our way out of Union Station, another feat of enormous proportions. We stopped along the way to inquire about the best place in which to hail a cab, since the entrance that was labeled "taxis" was being guarded by snipers and no one was allowed to use it. We asked two or three people, all of whom gave us the same non-answer: "Good luck!"

So, we just went outside and hoped for the best. Luckily, the door we were forced to exit through was across the street from what looked like a hotel. Since it was on the corner of an intersection of two streets that were both actually open, we figured it might be a good place to start. Besides that, the doorman from the hotel was hailing cabs for hotel guests, so we thought it might be a good idea to observe an expert at work. We watched him hail two or three cabs and then, certain that we knew what we were doing, we became his competition.

A cab stopped. Chris hunched his shoulders down and reached for the door. The doorman ducked under his arm and secured the cab for three of his guests. Chris, looking disappointed, straightened his shoulders and looked across the street, where we watched an empty cab slide through the intersection. Roughly the same thing happened three or four more times.

I am going to interrupt myself for just a second to point out that I had suggested to Chris that we leave Union Station a half hour before we did, in case we had trouble getting a cab. I earned an eye roll for that suggestion, and a complete dismissal. So, we left when Chris wanted to leave.

Okay, back to working the corner. Not like that- hailing cabs, I mean. Although, the other might have been easier. After the doorman we had learned from stole 5 or 6 cabs from us, cabs that we stopped, we decided to cross the street. After all, we had wistfully watched several cabs slip through the intersection unnoticed, over there. Once we were there, of course, they all disappeared. Word must have gotten out that there was no one over there looking for a cab. We went back to our original corner, hoping that the doorman would be less "on guard." No such luck. Then, I had a brilliant idea. We had crossed the street to reach the cabs that were going in the opposite direction. But what if we crossed the other street, so that the cabs got to us a half a block before they got to the doorman? I was halfway across the street before I managed to explain to Chris, over my shoulder, what I was doing. And we were barely there long enough to wonder if we could just figure out how to get to the museum and walk before Chris waved his hand and a cab stopped. A cab with a driver who was perfectly willing to take us to the Museum of American History.

And that was the beginning of a whole new adventure. We actually got a cab driver who spoke English, which I had heard was rare. He was a very nice guy, though.

The first thing we did was stop on the corner by the hotel and it was with great pleasure that Chris and I listened as the cabbie told the doorman that he had just picked up passengers. The doorman still managed to convince him to pick up one more, though, a very regal African woman. African, in this case, is not a PC way to say black, and I did not forget to attach the word "American" to it. She was African- the cab driver figured Kenyan. She spoke less English than the cabbie did. She was on her way to the African ball, and the cabbie knew exactly where it was. Since our ball was only a mile or two away, he assured us that he would deliver us first. Except, as it turned out, that could very well have been an empty promise. Not an intentional one, but empty all the same. Because every single road we tried to take was closed. See, the Inaugural Parade had apparently been going on for four or so hours and was still going. The streets were not re-opened. We would drive for a few blocks and then suddenly come upon a gaggle of police cars accompanied by men and women in reflective vests who were waiting to point us in exactly the direction we did not want to take. The cabbie stopped and told a police officer where he was trying to go and that he was "completely out of ideas." The officer said it was just hard for everyone to get around, but he made a suggestion, the cabbie took it, and we were off again. During this whole ordeal, the African woman was grumbling in a progressively louder voice- in her native language, of course. And she made about a million phone calls, during which she was fairly obviously complaining about the cabbie. Finally, she asked him if he was going to take her to her ball. He told her he was trying, and she should try to relax, and she harrumphed. At that point, he looked ahead, told us we were just a few blocks from our ball, and was immediately greeted with the sight of four police cars, sirens wailing and lights flashing, that blocked the road in front of us and forced us to do a u-turn.

"Presidential motorcade," the cabbie muttered. "I don't know what went wrong. When Clinton was elected, his people knew what they were doing. Hardly any time at all and he had the people off of the streets and into the balls." This cracked Chris and I up, immature members of society that we are. But it wasn't our fault. Brilliant politician that he is, no one can argue that fact the Clinton was definitely good at getting people into the balls, most notably his own. The cabbie then continued to add to our mirth by screeching to a halt just past an intersection, waving at another cab driver, and jumping out of the cab. We were mildly confused until he sprinted to the passenger side of the car, opened the front door, and took the African woman's elbow. "Come with me," he said. "This cab will take you to your ball." He slammed her door and helped her into the other cab-- both cabs were pretty much just parked in the middle of the street-- and then he returned to us. He looked over his shoulder at us and said, in explanation, "She was getting crabby."

He informed us that our museum was just a couple blocks over and we should be there soon. He drove toward it and was forced to stop, yet again, by road blocks. He took another corner and drove in another direction. And again. Finally, he pulled over and stopped.

"That's it over there. Just two blocks down, I think." He pointed. "You'll have to walk. I can't get any closer." So, I handed him 20 bucks (for what was supposed to be a ride of just over a mile, by the way, that took us more than 25 minutes in the end) and got out. I promptly dropped my gloves, so I turned to grab them and knocked my head into Chris's head, which was moving at a high velocity as he jumped out of the cab. It hurt. A lot. But we were almost there!

We hurriedly walked the two blocks in the indicated direction and were left completely confused because nothing looked like a museum. Well Chris walked. I sort of stumbled. I had mountainous blisters on my feet from the day before and was aching all over from all the standing and such, and so what I was doing might be described more accurately as hobbling. I hobbled down the sidewalk a good 50 feet behind Chris, the man who told me before we left that if I couldn't keep up, he could just walk slower. Right.

Discouraged, we asked someone on the sidewalk where the Smithsonian Museum of American History might be found. They pointed another block down and said it was one of three buildings we could see. We continued. And, surprise of surprises, the first building we got to was the one we wanted. We walked another three quarters of a block to get to the only lit up door we could see. When we arrived, we were promptly informed by a security officer that we needed to enter on the opposite side of the block-long building. Of course. So, off we went. We ran into someone we knew from working on the campaign on our way around, and his date, so that was nice for Chris. It gave him someone to talk to while he ran ahead of me and I huffed and puffed and hobbled and wobbled behind him, half running myself but still not moving fast enough to keep up. We finally got around the building and found a giant set of stairs that led us into the building. At last, we were there. And once we got inside, it was all worth it.

Stay tuned.