I had written to our congressman in, like, early May, to see if we could get tickets for a tour of the White House. I was turned down. I don’t think I got our request in early enough. Oh well. Our itinerary today was going to more than make up for that: A tour of NPR headquarters AND a visit to the Smithsonian National Postal Museum. I was so fired up to get the day started.
The kids were just slightly less excited than I was about the upcoming NPR tour. I think they didn’t want to set their expectations too high. To pump them up, I shamelessly offered to load them up with all the NPR swag they wanted from the gift shop. They feigned interest after that.
Unfortunately, though, the NPR tour was not at all that I wanted it to be. And it’s certainly not what the kids were expecting. After a security check that was decidedly more rigorous than the one performed on us yesterday at the Rayburn Congressional Office Building, an NPR staffer named Alan, clad in a Whitman College lacrosse t-shirt, khaki shorts and Keen sandals, started the tour. Like any good NPR employee, I guess, he seemed to love the sound of his own voice, and for a good third of the 90-minute tour, he stood in front of a bank of elevators and droned on about NPR web content and satellite feeds. On the outside, our children stood very quietly and respectfully. But on the inside, I knew that they were on the verge of imploding. Then, to my complete dismay, Alan totally skipped the newsroom on the tour. Just skipped right over it. He led us past some cubicles where people supposedly work on Morning Edition and All Things Considered, but that’s it.
And, the final straw: There is no gift shop at NPR HQ. Charlie and Clare endured an hour and a half of total tedium only to discover that there wasn’t even a t-shirt in it for them at the end. Come to think of it, this was kind of a metaphor for my kids’ relationship with NPR, now that I reflect on all the times I’ve made them listen to it in the car. Anyway, I owe them big-time.
(Keith, btw, has a totally different take on the tour. I guess he loved it.)
On my map, NPR headquarters and the Postal Museum are in the same general neighborhood. In real life, it’s almost a mile walk down Massachusetts Avenue. And in real life, when it’s 100 degrees, and it’s noon, and the sun’s beating right down on you and your two trashed children, that hike it not so much fun.
We cooled off over lunch at an Irish pub across the street from the museum. After lunch, we checked out a line of lunch trucks parked nearby. They were slinging some seriously scrumptious-sounding fare, like tapas, kabobs, and Uruguayan sandwiches called chivos, which include lettuce, tomatoes, fried eggs and mozzarella cheese. We were drawn to the truck belonging to Captain Cookie and Mr. Milk, though, and we ordered ice cream sandwiches, then watched as Captain Cookie stood right there in front of us and smooshed chocolate ice cream between two freshly baked peanut butter cookies. It was served up in a bowl, thank goodness, because the whole thing was so gooey and melty, there’s no way it would have held up on its own as a sandwich.
We’re now FB besties with Captain Cookie.
Some of you have heard me talk about how excited I’ve been to see the Postal Museum. And the place did not disappoint. I am fascinated by and curious about all the systems that must be in place so that the USPS can sort and deliver our mail, and I was thrilled to finally get some insight into exactly how that happens today, as well as how it has happened through history.
I asked Charlie later what he learned at the Postal Museum and he happily exclaimed, “Nothing! It was actually fun!”
We took the Metro back to Rockville, then stopped off for some a quick Mexican dinner at a Moe’s-like place. There was a wall of hot sauces with varying degrees of heat -- 75 different kinds. Keith, of course, decided that he had to try a few of the level-10s -- with names like “Rectum Ripper” and “Ass in the Bath.” He did, and I have to say that I have never seen his eyes bug so far out of his skull, like straight out of a Looney Tunes episode.
Back at the hotel, we lounged by the pool and continued our National Park Matching Game tournament until Charlie and Clare, who have been going like super-troopers for the last few days, asked us to please let them go to bed.
I should add here that I just got a call from Natalie. She visited the Holocaust Museum today and attended a dinner at the Saudi Arabian Embassy this evening. I asked her what the best part of the day was, and she said, “Air conditioning.”
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