The China Express to DC

Ok peoples this is going to be a long post so strap yourselves in for another fun filled Bule adventure.

After skilfully avoiding a week of work and the dreaded 11-hour multi-connection cross-continental trip from hell to Klamath Falls, Oregon, I quickly went about booking in a weekend trip to the nation's capital - Washington DC. 5 of the other secondees had already been organising such a trip and I decided to make fortuitous use of their legwork and tag along. So on Friday night I traversed crosstown with the obscure directions to join a queue outside the Foot Action shoe store on 34th Street and 7th Avenue. I joined the others as we became increasingly anxious about the reliability of this private bus service dubbed the China Express.

As the numbers increased, a little man who looked a lot like Mr Miyagi made his way through the queue ensuring that everyone had their "e-tickret" (sic) ready. As the bus pulled up I was quick to assess that there was a snowball's chance in hell that all that had queued would be boarding this Vietnamese refugee boat-like vehicle. So too did those deep in the line and what followed could be best describe as farcical. Mr Miyagi stood on the steps of the bus and with "wax on, wax off" hand movements motioned those with the coveted "e-tickret" to the front and onto the rapidly filling junket.

Luckily all 6 of us made it on board. Unluckily the bus possessed a stench not dissimilar to a dodgy firecracker-toting store in Chinatown. Upon placing my bag (complete with my new techo toy of choice - a Playstation Portable) in the overhead storage I successfully located the source of this foul odour - literally hundreds of mothballs. Close to dry reaching such was the strength of their scent, I decided I'd prefer to keep my belongings in my lap for this little journey. I was thankful for my new toy which would keep me occupied. Not possessing my forethought, The Dude had not brought any form of entertainment and was seated next to a man reading a Chinese newspaper and smelling like dumplings. Unlucky.

Deep into New Jersey the bus pulled over for refuelling at one of the many highway superstops. Welshman Robbie Williams and I alighted carrying empty stomachs in desperate need of some sustenance. To our dismay we encountered what I concluded had to be some sort of purgatory for fast food outlets - chains that I had never heard of nor wish to ever again. The American diet continues to amaze me as the heathens queued en masse at one chain that solely sells super sized soft pretzels. I dared Robbie to consume a serving of fried chicked from the non-descript chain Roy Rogers. To me it sounded like a punishment they dish out at Guantanamo but the Crazy Welshman lived up to his burgeoning reputation as he threw caution (and possibly his general well-being) to the wind.

Back on the bus and by the time we had past threw Baltimore the three pieces of Roy Rogers' best were now history. Arriving in DC at about 11pm we were dropped off in Chinatown on the corner of H and 8th St. Like New York, DC is a logical navigators' dream. Streets on a grid, the city divided into 4 quadrants and north-south streets numbered and east-west alphabetical. Through in a few diagonals named after states and that's about as tricky as it gets.

Nonetheless this travel weary bunch could not immediately locate our lodgings. When we eventually found the Embassy Lodge we were pleasantly surprised. Our excitement was further amplified when the concierge informed us of the 2 hour open bar from 5:30pm each night. Quickly sightseeing plans were rearranged to accomodate this new information. We decided that it was not too late to head out for a quiet drink to discuss tomorrow's itinerary. We heard word of any Irish pub down on 7th St that had an impressive selection of ales.

Still reeling in a moth ball induced psychosis we ventured back towards Chinatown in search of this elusive Irish pub. Unable to locate our venue amongst the numerous non-descript offerings on 7th St I suggested we ask some DC natives if they could help. The next bit is harsh - please don't judge me. After several failed attempts, The Dude approached a group of young likely types but initially his efforts went unrewarded - the girls were deaf. With some concentrated lip reading they could eventually make out what he was asking and pointed us in the right direction. Not sure who was luckier - us for finally finding our destination or the girls who didn't have to listen to The Dude addressing them in his broad Cape Town accent. Harsh but fair.

We entered the pub as The Dude relayed another embarassing encounter where he had been introducing himself to a group of girls back in South Africa. He had shaken hands with all but one girl who refused to reciprocate his offering. Being The Dude that he is, he wouldn't let this go and grabbed the girl's arm forcing her to shake his hand. To his horror he quickly realised why she had been so reluctant and he shook her stump. Political incorrectness was quickly becoming the theme for the evening as we realised that we were the only ones in the pub talking. Looking around we realised that almost everyone else was communicating via sign language. And they were all getting blind. Ok I've gone too far. Enough already. I apologise.

So we sat in the pub sampling numerous and various bevvies until about 3am at which point we decided it best to head home and get a good night's sleep in preparation for sampling DC's smorgasboard of sights, monuments and museums. The 3 boys retired to our room on the premise of waking early and hitting the streets. When the girls knocked on our door at 7am not a word was needed for The Dude, The Welshman and The Bule to make the collective agreement that more sleep was required.

Finally extracting ourselves from the comfort of our room by mid morning, we made a vee line for the White House with the commitment to meet the girls at the Washington Monument at 1pm for a ride to the top. As we passed George W.'s place we spotted some filming activity outside the Eisenhower Executive Offices. As Jimmy Smit's sat getting his face powdered I quickly recognised that the West Wing was being shot. Not wanting to miss this photo opportunity, I reached for my camera under my jacket as I approached a policewoman guarding the shoot. Clearly she misinterpreted my intentions as she too reached for something - her pistol. I could see the headlines - "Bule gets shot taking a shot of the shoot".

We pushed on to try to see as many of the innumerable monuments on offer - the Washington Monument, Lincoln Monument , Jefferson Monument, Korean War Monument, Vietnam War Monument, WW2 Monument, Just about anything Monument. Keen to see the Declaration of Independence, Constitution and Bill of Rights we headed to the Library of Congress whilst the girls went to the Holocaust Museum. With The Dude channeling Nicholas Cage from National Treasure we strode with intent towards Capitol Hill.

Needless to say security is taken very seriously in the US but especially in DC. So when these monument-weary tourists queued at the Library checkpoint what transpired lay somewhere between amusing and down right stupidity. Despite receiving the usual instructions, my brain failed to process these requests - not once but 3 times - first I left my sunnies on my head, then remembered I still had my camera around my neck and on my third attempt my belt set off the detector yet again. At this point the now irritated security guard ordered the whole line 'to back up until I say you've gone far enough' leaving me isolated in the screening zone. After being aggresive frisked I passed through the detector one more - finally avoiding the now dreaded alarm. Up stepped the crazy Welshman who had found my "issues" most amusing - this had clearly distracted him as he too set off the the alarm. It was touch and go whether we were about to get locked up for just being stupid.

Time flies in DC and after hitting the National Archives, FBI Building and the Ford Theatre were Abe was gunned down, we needed to high tail it back to the hotel for happy hour. After an hour we were pretty happy and decided dinner in Georgetown (the university suburb) would be a good idea. With six of us we thought 2 cabs would be in order - but DC cabbies are mad and the first one we hailed said pile in. We obliged. Without a meter he gave us a quote for the trip which we also duly accepted.

Dinner was divine. And it wasn't long until we had found the most happening pub in Georgetown to continue the party. The other headed upstairs to the 'nightclub' level but I was stopped in my tracks as the middle America anthem "Don't Stop Believing" by 80's rockers Journey blasted through the speakers. Realising I hadn't followed them, The Dude and Robbie returned to find me in the middle of a group of Americans belting out the words I had gleaned so well from Kevin (my brother El's girlfriend Casey's sister Caitlin's boyfriend - phew) whilst I was in Detroit. I had clearly peaked too early and it wasn't long before I was in a cab home and tucking myself into bed.

For the second day in succession I was awoken at 7am by the girls - this time via phone call. To my dismay/excitement I realised that the other boys had not yet returned from last night's adventure. The uncertainty of their whereabouts however was not sufficient to stop me from returning to unconsciousness. This state was rudely interupted by two rough looking characters jumping on my bed at about 10am. Upon questioning The Dude elaborated that they had been in Virginia. My still foggy mind had to verify that he had said Virginia.

Turns out some girls had invited them back to a house party which within literally two minutes of starting was shut down my police. They crashed on the couch and got a cab back in the morning. I was relieved because I had thought they had carried out our earlier plan which was to re-create the scene from Wedding Crashers on the steps off the Lincoln Memorial at dawn - which with some energy I would have loved to been apart of.

So the boys got some much needed shut eye and we eventually got out and about by 11am. With the bus due to leave at 4 we only really had time to head over to Arlington. The cemetery whilst eerie was also breathtakingly beautiful. We visited the Kennedy family plot, the Buffalo soldiers memorial and the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the unknown soldier.

Rushing back to the hotel to collect our bags I realised I couldn't find my "e-tickret". Quickly burroughing through my bag I found it stuff in the pocket of my tracky dacks. As we ran to the "bus stop" we found a massive crowd and faced a similar boarding process to Friday. The girls were already on board so we surged through to unlucky masses and onto the bus. The trip home was fast and I got to my apartment in time to see cousin Heath unluckily miss out on an Oscar.

A huge weekend and a huge post.
Sorry but I hope its a worthwhile read.

Oscars