D.C.

This weekend I’ll be crossing two things off my Life List: riding on a train (a real train, not the LIRR) and visiting Washington, D.C. I’ve wanted to go to D.C. since the third grade, but I had cruel parents who always took us skiing or to the beach or to Disneyworld for vacations. The humanity! Parents, if your child’s dream is to get locked overnight in a museum or a library, don’t take them to Space Mountain because you’re just wasting money. But now that I’m a grown up and can stay up as late as I want and spend my paycheck on alcohol and hotels and novelty chewing gum, I am thrilled to spend a weekend severely dorking out about history and science and government and my forefathers and someone might need to taser gun me before I say glaven. Too late!

Anyway, tiny bottles and walking shoes have been packed, tickets to the Spy Museum purchased, and Heather has promised to distract any guards necessary so I can attempt another life goal: curling up and taking a nap in the lap of the Lincoln Memorial. If I end up arrested for that one, remind me to go ahead and tell the story of how last weekend I broke the law by opening Norman Mailer’s son’s mail. That’s a great story just going to waste right now, all because of stupid potential jail time.