"First time in D.C.?" "Uh-huh!"

Greetings, one and all, from the Barlow Center in Washington D.C.! It’s 9:19 pm here and I’m feeling rawther tired from the long day’s journey, which began at 3:00 am this morning in Orem, Utah. I woke up, changed, finished the last-minute packing, and took off with Dad and Mama in Klaatu (our green Subaru). Snow had been forecasted, but the roads were surprisingly (and blessedly!) clear, and we got to the airport in plenty of time. We waited in a long line to get my bulky green suitcase (I haven’t named it yet, but “The Hulk” comes to mind) checked in, and then headed for security with my other smaller green suitcase (“Peter Pan”). At this time I was also trying to manage a manilla envelope with important documents, my purse, and a smaller envelope with boarding passes, my driver’s license, and receipts. It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but I am proud to say that by the time I arrived in Dulles, I had a nice system figured out.

I said good-bye to Mama and Dad at security, which was tough. This is going to be the longest time that I’ve ever been away from home, or so far from home. I was so emotionally and mentally invested in trying to not panic that I forgot to say any last, endearing words...but I hope they both know how much I miss and love them, as well as thank them for helping me achieve this great opportunity to visit the national capital. After I got through security (sans my lunch water bottle...sigh of regret), I went upstairs and found the gate for my flight. I had almost an hour to dawdle away, so I ate my breakfast orange and got started reading one of my many books for the trip, Home by Marilynne Robinson. I haven’t read her most famous work, Gilead, yet, but it’s been recommended to me several times and if I like Home, I certainly will give Gilead a shot. Anyway, it came time to board the plane and I had to stop reading and get busy reassuring myself that everything would go fine and there wouldn’t be any terrorists on board and I wouldn’t get stuck sitting next to a three-headed monster and yada yada.

The main flight attendant was a jovial man who instantly had us all smiling with his wisecracks. Humor really does bring relief from tension and stress! When he was reading the safety instructions, he joked that, if you had two children who needed oxygen and only one mask, you should “pick the one that has the most potential.” He also sang a little song for us at the end of our flight which ended with “and we’re sorry we’re-so-LATE!” (We were about 20-30 minutes late because it took a long time to de-frost the plane.) Once we got in the air, I started breathing normally, and then they immediately began the snacks-and-drinks tradition. My blueberry snack bar and 1/2 cup of Sprite were quite good, if not all that filling. I was annoyed at this point with my hands, which were cracking and bleeding from...anxiety? The cold? Anyway, the pain and annoyance kept me awake and a bit grumpy during the whole flight. I tried to sleep but couldn’t get comfortable no matter how I positioned myself, so I eventually gave up.

The flight seemed very long. I read both my class syllabi for the semester: PLSC 391 looks to be an annoying class with lots of iddy biddy assignments that aren’t difficult to do but are difficult to remember to do. PLSC 399R looks more fun and practical—it involves writing and doing research about the place where we’ll be interning (the National Museum of Women in the Arts, for me!). I haven’t received the final word on whether or not my tuition is being paid for my taking all of the 12 credits offered; I can’t imagine any other reason for wanting to take the 9 credit option of this class.

I also read and edited Chapter 1 of my sister Sarah’s new story, “Midnight Shadow,” which she gave me for Christmas. I found myself getting caught up in the story and am excited to read more. I liked picking out where I think Sarah got various elements of her story. Gail Carson Levine and Stephenie Meyer seem to be her two biggest influences, but there are most likely others.

At the Chicago airport, I wandered around and stretched my legs for a few minutes before settling down to eat my sack lunch (peanut butter/banana sandwich, carrots, broccoli, apple), read a little bit in the Book of Mormon, and people-watch. I also went into two little bookstores to look around, and read a little bit in The Hunger Games and The Last Lecture, two books which I had heard about and am now interested in reading at greater length. I was also a little bemused to note that the bookstores carried several copies of all of Stephenie Meyer’s books except for Breaking Dawn. Was it really as horrible as all that? Or perhaps it sold out? Who knows? Who cares?

After browsing some more (and noting the inspiring new cover—and by that I mean an inspiring shot of the lead character in the HBO film inspired by the book inspired by the life of John Adams himself—on David McCullough’s John Adams, which I have yet to read!), it struck me that my flight was leaving at 1:10 and not 1:30, as I had somehow assumed. I quickly rushed for the gate, with about 15 minutes to spare...which still felt like a close shave to me after waiting for an hour at the gate in Salt Lake City. I got on the plane, and despite all my efforts to get a window seat, was forced to take another aisle seat like I had in the Salt Lake-Chicago flight. It was almost in exactly the same spot—about 5 rows from the very back. Even the people sitting next to me were similar—both times a young woman sat in the middle next to me, and a young man traveling with her sat in the window seat next to her.

I was even more nervous about this flight, since it was heading for the capital itself (what better opportunity for terrorist attack!), but all went well, fortunately. In fact, the flight was shockingly short—it seems I only had time to drink my other half of Sprite, eat my peanuts, and read a few pages in Home before we were landing. Once we arrived, I called Elder Blanchard and told him I would be coming from Dulles (which I mispronounced, to my chagrin, as “Doo-loos,” and which he corrected quite unassumingly, “Oh, Dull-es?”). His next words were not exactly comforting—“Oh, we won’t see you for a while then!”—but I squared my shoulders and bravely headed out to find the “Hulk” suitcase and then the SuperShuttle. Many minutes later (it turns out that the Dulles-Washington airport is quite large—perhaps enough so as to qualify as another planet in our Solar System), I was fishing my green suitcase out of the carousel, with the help of a young woman who mistakenly thought it was her bag. Hmm. No wonder she was so helpful. Then I was wandering around, looking for the downstairs sign...and then, hurrah! I found the SuperShuttle ticket booth. The two employees at the desk, a young man and young woman, gave me a number and told me to wait for it to be called. About 5 minutes later, they gave me a bus number and directed me to go outside and find it. By luck, the friendly guy behind me was going on the same bus, and he offered to carry one of my suitcases on his trolley. I agreed, and we went off together, chatting. I learned his name was Bryce, and he lived in D.C. He asked me if it was my first time in D.C. (see the title). I said yes, and told him it was really my first time living in a big city. He laughed and said that it really wasn’t that big. Uh-huh. The White House. The U.S. Capitol. The Washington Monument. That’s big enough for me.

We found our bus without much trouble, and were the first ones in. We were later joined by two men and, to my relief, two women. The bus driver, a really big guy drove our “bus” out of the airport. I was the first stop, which was lucky (I was sitting close to the door and didn’t have to move) and a little embarrassing (he couldn’t find the Barlow Center and I wasn’t very helpful, never having seen it in person myself). I told him just to drop me off as close to the address, and then I called Elder Blanchard again. He was able to find me within a matter of seconds, talking on cell phones, and then we both went to the Barlow Center. The whole area is a lot more crowded than I anticipated, but I expect I’ll get used to it as time goes on.

Sister Blanchard and Maggie, our Administrative Assistant, showed me to my apartment, #410. I share it with Valerie Shoemaker, a nice girl I know from the Hum 262 class I TA-ed for last fall. I had about 45 min. all to myself in the room, and I got busy unpacking everything and making my bed and fixing up the computer (which was a REAL PAIN, by the way). Dad called me in the middle of everything and I got to stop and talk with him and Mama for a little. They were both happy to know that I had arrived safely and that everything seemed to be going as planned. After talking with them, I finished unpacking and then Valerie came.

We both worked on our computers for a while, and then ate some dinner. I tried to open an MRE, but the main dish was absolutely spoiled—it stank worse than our dog Teddy after he “bargoogles” (our word for “spitting up”). So I just ate the crackers, shortbread, and jelly. Valerie and I went to Trader Joe’s (the closest little grocery store in the area) and got a few things, like hand soap and fruit, but were a little upset at not being able to find paper towels. We were pleased to see that the Barlow Center already has a lot of pantry space, dishes, a dish rack, and dishwashing liquid. I was disappointed at not being able to find a sponge (either at the Barlow Center or at Trader Joe’s) to wash the dishes with. I guess a washcloth will have to do for a little while.

I also bought myself a little broccoli and cheese quiche to eat, since I was still starving and didn’t want to open another possibly putrid MRE. And here I am—dusting off cheesy broccoli crumbs from my fingers, typing about my day on the ol’ laptop. I did take a few pictures of our apartment but am too tired to load them up today—perhaps tomorrow after church. We will be meeting someone in the Barlow Center at 9:45 am to take us there for our first time. So far I know that it costs $5 to take the Metro to get there. Which doesn’t sound too good for the number of Sundays we’re going to be here...

Anyway, since I like lists, here’s what I hope to accomplish tomorrow:

Go to church, read scriptures, write in my journal/blog
Walk to the National Museum of Women in the Arts to gage the distance
Walk around the Mall and get more familiar with the area around the Barlow Center
Plan Monday’s schedule
Read some more in Home
Fast that my trip here will be a safe and enriching experience!

And here’s my list of interesting things I learned today:

1. My mental picture of there being snow in Washington D.C. in January is ruined forever. The grass was brown and the trees were bare (which, incidentally, spoiled another picture of perfectly green grass and wooded groves surrounding the capital).

2. All airline assistants should tell jokes. And good jokes, too. Our stewardess on the way to D.C. tried hard to get us to laugh (“Welcome to Honolulu...I mean, Washington,”) but it didn’t work every time (“And now my boy friend, I mean, the captain...”).

3. Time is really beside the point. If you’re hungry, it’s lunchtime. If you’re tired, it’s bedtime. Having woken up at 3 am, it feels like it’s midnight here in D.C. when it’s only 10:24, and it’s only 8:24 in Orem. Weirrrrrrd....

4. I feel really uncomfortable walking around in shoes other than sneakers. I guess it’s because they’re all I’ve ever worn at BYU. I wore boots all day today and I was just feeling...strraaaaange...at the end of the day. I was very happy to take them off and put on my new keds to go to Trader Joe’s, even if the color didn’t match my pants. At least the boots fit pretty well. Pretty well. They could be a little bit wider and a little shorter and I wouldn’t mind.

5. Water bottles are DANGEROUS. How did I miss that fact growing up?

6. It’s HARD to get a window seat on a plane. Which makes me want one more than ever on the return trip.

7. It’s nice to be a girl sometimes. People helped me loading my “Peter Pan” suitcase in the overhead compartment, people didn’t mind me sitting next to them, people were nice about me passing or bumping into them, and, thanks to Bryce and the big SuperShuttle driver, I didn’t even have to load or unload my luggage on the SuperShuttle. Oh, and speaking of which...

8. The “shuttle” is actually just a long, shabby bus, with old carpet and tinted windows and a low ceiling and minivan-like trappings.

9. It’s “DULL-es.”

Goodnight!