THE AMERICAN POSEIDON ADVENTURE

We spent the weekend in “war-torn” Washington, D.C. We’d promised our grandson a trip to the Smithsonian museums for the Columbus Day weekend and decided to risk life and limb to keep our word. From what I’d heard, only adults were being targeted in the current wave of murder and mayhem—so if we did get caught in a crossfire, we figured our grandson would survive. In true American “can-do” spirit, we went!

It was risky—terrifying, even. As we walked down the Mall, workers were setting up for a Christian Evangelical service: big stage, giant sound system, and long tables covered with white cloths and fig leaves. No soldiers in sight. The organizers assured us God would protect them as they worshiped and broke bread. But, just in case God had “other plans,” each table had an automatic rifle taped underneath, and one of the preachers confided that most worshipers were armed. The old “eye for an eye” was clearly back in fashion.

We didn’t stay for the service—our grandson had his heart set on the Air & Space Museum, which was closing after Saturday. The looming government shutdown didn’t seem to dampen the crowds; maybe God was smiling. Still, everyone walked in zigzags to make themselves harder targets. It made the sidewalks look like a conga line of drunk sailors or a ship in heavy seas.

The National Guard troops huddled together in the shade sipping coffee added a certain sense of security—until I realized it was probably a ruse, strategic camouflage before they leapt into action against “roving gangs of violent immigrants.” Their casual posture was all part of the plan. I wasn’t fooled.

Cab rides were an adventure. Fares were double because no driver dared take a straight route—too dangerous! They’d circle the restaurant a few times before a rolling “drive-by drop-off.” Getting into the cab while it was moving was easier than out. The exit strategy—jumping to the pavement mid-roll—did result in a split seam across my backside, but the soufflé at Du Jour made it all worthwhile.

All in all, it was a stressful but fun-filled weekend. It brought back my old Parris Island training—those tuck-and-rolls are a lot tougher at 78 than they were at 21. God bless president bone spurs for saving our Capitol!

RESIST!!! & EDUCATE!!!