Three Hours in DC

Wednesday morning, Phil got up well before 6am to go to a men's meeting from church. He came home to find me working away at the computer, mostly immobilized. He emptied the car of minerals and various other tools and such, brought hay for the cows, filled large containers of food for the chicks, chickens, and dogs, and then packed his clothes.

By 1:30pm, we were on the road. Phil's uncle passed away very unexpectedly last Friday, and we were going to the funeral in New Jersey.

After a stop at Whole Foods for the fun car food we all enjoy, we headed north.

We drove by a little local airport, and a small plane took off, right next to us. It started after we drove by, and caught up with us. I've never had that experience, driving parallel a hundred yards away from a plane taking off— exhilarating.

All went well until we reached DC. I don't know how it happened, but somehow I missed an exit or construction had changed it or ... something. Truly. I could see the signs I needed, and I was directly Phil, and then the next step simply never materialized.

And because Phil had forgotten to grab the atlas out of the truck, and we don't own smartphones, and the little maps from Google were confusing at best ... we drove around.

Three hours passed. Three hours of one way roads when we wanted to go the other way. Red lights. Children playing happily in the backseat (but noisily). I eventually despaired, wishing only that we could go back home and be done with this city where we finally find Pennsylvania Avenue, part of the directions missed so many hours before, only to have Pennsylvania quit. I called my Dad, who gave us good directions, but because we didn't see the big picture, we ended up not trusting our instincts and returning to the maelstrom.

There are no convenience stores with maps. We looked. The directions we had printed were so convoluted (two miles here, six miles there, half a mile next), we didn't even have a way to ask where we wanted to go. We considered asking a policeman, hiring a cab to lead us, but how do you ask for guidance when the immediate destination is unknown?

I really don't know how to express how bad those hours were. If there was some hope that we could eventually escape and go the right direction, that would have been one thing. And sometimes when you're going the wrong way, you can meet up with where you had originally intended to go. But, apparently, that doesn't always work.

Sometimes you drive around DC for three hours.

I finally said to myself, "I give Phil three more hours. If we haven't figured out what to do by then, I'll make us go back home." And then he found his way out. And we drove to New Jersey and go to the shore right before midnight.

Happily, we had a hotel room waiting for us. I took my first bath in three years. I was ready to soak out the stress of the day in hot, hot water. And the four boys went to sleep in a King bed.