Washington D.C.

Getting to Myrtle Beach from Stuttgart, Germany is not as easy as one might think. Unless your pocketbook is like Hermione’s purse.  Mine is not. I spent a couple of weeks diligently following Space Available (travel on military planes) flights before loading my kids into my mini bus and camping at Ramstein late one Monday evening.  There was a 1:45 am flight to the states that Tuesday morning. That changed to 03:00 by the time we hit Ramstein and we got a little extra sleep. Yay!

Sadly, there were only 4 non-mission seats on that plane and none were for the three of us.  Luckily there was another state-bound flight at 0:8:45. Back in the bus we went. Sound asleep in minutes. I woke earlier than expected, Tess shaking my shoulder:

“Mom! Mom! They just announced 52 seats!” I sleepily checked my phone, it was only 07:00. Too early for ‘our’ flight. But now I was awake, I opened a window to better hear the loud loudspeaker system at Ramstein. A military spokesperson was systematically calling out names.  Suddenly I hear mine! Ours! We had made a roll call!

Roll call means they call your name. You have been chosen for a flight (this is like the holy grail for military folks). It means you have about 5 minutes to mark yourself present or they go to the next people fervently wishing for a flight. I hustled my kids into shoes, sweatshirts (it was cold), threw suitcases out the bus and ran into the terminal… with 30 seconds to spare! We had scored a ‘surprise’ early morning flight to Dover, DE on a cargo plane.

The first rule of Space A? Take the first flight out, or you may never get a flight.  Besides, I love cargo planes! There’s nothing like walking out on the tarmac, amidst all those magnificent grey airships, hair blowing, hearing impossible, and boarding a plane filled with cargo and zero extra’s. No padded walls, just grey steel (or something), jump seats attached to the sides, bare pipes & conduits running up walls and across the impossibly high ceiling.

As soon as the bird reaches altitude we can unstrap from our seats, grab some of the provided woolen blankets, the woobies out of our packs, and make a sleeping palette on the cold, metal floor. I communicated everything to Dane in a modified sign-language. You can’t hear on a cargo plane, and our ears were double protected by ear plugs and headphones. Once I made the palette, I popped movies on our tablets, cuddled up with both my kids and fell asleep till the states.

Just before we loaded in Ramstein, I texted my girl friend at Ft. Meade (by Baltimore, MD). Usually a flight from Ramstein lands at BWI (Baltimore-Washington International), 10 minutes from Ft. Meade. I had plans to see her, stay with her, giggle & drink wine. I hadn’t seen her in 3+ years, not since they left Germany.  Luckily for me, she loves me & was more than willing to drive the extra hour to Dover to pick us up. We arrived in Dover, grabbed our bags, declared our 6 millions pounds of cookies, chocolate & candy at customs and walked right into Jamie’s loving arms. Heaven!

I don’t think we took a breath on the drive from Dover to Baltimore. Three years is a long time not to see a friend and all those things we hadn’t said came rushing out. I was so busy talking, I completely forgot my camera and could only stare as we passed a buggy filled with an Amish family right on the road! And then two of the most adorable Amish girls, swinging their lunch pails. And then! Then, an adorable Amish boy, Dane’s age, in his adorable wide-brim hat, performing his chores. All I wanted was to stop & spend the day in Lancaster and photograph the Amish. What an amazing, strong, piece of American culture.

I also learned, since moving to Ft. Meade six months ago, Jamie had not been to DC. We had arrived a day early (I’d given us 3 days to get to the states on SpaceA, we got a flight on Day 1), and we had a whole, entire, day to spend with Jamie! I begged to go see our nation’s Capitol. My kids have barely been in their homeland since their birth. Dane’s more German than American (or Dutch) at this point, and I really wanted to show them their heritage and history.  I needn’t have begged. Jamie was excited as me.

Our Washington DC day was one of the hottest EVER. It was near 90F in October. It made for gorgeous pictures, but hot & tired & sweaty & slightly grumpy tourists. Also, my mistake, I forgot that miles are more than twice as long as kilometers. I planned everything by foot, once our train dropped us off at Union Station. Oops. By the time we walked up to THE White House, everyone was ready to drop.  Sadly it meant we “only” saw The White House, the WWI memorial, The Washington Memorial, The Lincoln Memorial and The Capitol. I should’ve known better, just like Europe, DC has a Hop On ~ Hop Off bus.  Oops. Take the bus if you go!

Thankfully our Metro tickets also counted as bus tickets, after crossing the Lincoln Memorial Circle five times, we finally found a bus to take us to Union Station.  Right at that moment, Soren called from Texas. Was I in the states? Did I bring his cookies? Candy? When would I be in Myrtle Beach? I tried to juggle my conversation, my camera (no longer tucked away) and scanning my fancy, reusable Metro tickets into the bus thingy. The bus driver watched me fumble for a minute then came to my rescue:

“Who are you talking to?”
“My son in Texas.” I replied.
“He can wait. I will hang up for you.” and he did, after taking my phone and telling Soren I needed help! And then he helped me scan my tickets and we giggled our way into our seats. Soren sent me a text: Are you on drugs!?!?!?

I called back & explained my bus getting-on confusion and the need for help.  Of course our friendly neighborhood driver heard and called me up to the front of the bus:

“Is that your son again?” I nodded my head.
“Here, take the wheel. I will talk to him.” I took the big, huge steering wheel of the giant DC city bus in my tiny little hands, he took my phone (don’t worry we were at a red light).
“Son,” the bus driver began, “your mama is herding a crowd of tired people through Washington DC at night.  She cannot be talking to you in Texas right now. She is a very capable woman. She is driving my bus right now! But she can’t talk to you too.”

At this point Soren couldn’t hold it in any longer, he burst out laughing.
“My mom can’t even drive her car. She’s driving a bus? IN DC?” I could hear him laughing so hard, I could almost see the tears in his eyes.
“Yes sir!” affirmed my new best friend. “She’s got a job here any time she wants it.”

With that the light turned green, my brief job as bus driver in DC ended and I made my way back to my seat. Despite being too hot, super tired, from walking and jet lag, I had one of the best days ever. All thanks to a perfectly strange and wonderful bus driver in DC.

Hop On ~ Hop Off bus

Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center

Church in downtown DC

The Capitol

World War I Memorial

It was Italian-American week? Italian flags everywhere!

Tess, Dane & Me in front of THE WHITE HOUSE!

All this amazing history and culture… and my kids are fascinated by squirrels. Sigh.

A lone plane flying over the pond in Constitution Gardens

Tess, Dane, Keri & Keelee in Constitution Gardens with the Washington Monument.

The Washington Monument reflect in the pond waters at Constitution Gardens

The Lincoln Memorial, Dane, Tess & our friends

The statue of Abraham Lincoln

Dane fell asleep on the steps to the Lincoln Memorial, jet lag has taken its toll.

DC at night. Trying to find a bus to a train to a car.

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