The expressway to Dulles is a fabulous road. It zips along
without any of those pesky exits to distract you from your main focus –
survival. To be fair, there are a few exits. Unfortunately, the one that I
wanted (I can even remember which one it was now) had signs that said that
Interstate was coming up; however, the road never appeared. I looked for it
several times and never found it. I realized that I might have been in trouble
when signs to new Interstates (ones that had not even existed as far as I was
concerned) began to appear.
Knowing that I needed to go east to find my way to I-95 I took
this new Interstate with the vague hope of finding my way home. I-80-something
sounded promising. The problem was it was telling me east was west and west was
east. Those sign people really have a great sense of humor, don't they? I got
on the east-bound I-80somthing, knowing full well I was going west. It was
at this point when things began to get confusing.
I was lost. Not having been lost for at least 30 hours, I decided
to just enjoy it. There were decent odds I would find my way out of the DC area
someday. While driving along, I saw a sign that said Iwo Jima – next exit. Not
really sure if the sign referred to the monument or the island, I took a chance
that it was the monument. That chance paid off. I saw it. It was BIG. I mean
really big! Cruising around it and wondering how to get closer, I made another
mistake. There is a road right next to the monument that apparently has no way
in or out. They put cars in there to make you think you can get in. I suspect
they use helicopters to airlift them in there. I, still naive about the ways of
Washington, decided to try and get closer. Logic dictated that going around it
long enough, I would find a way in. (Yeah, I know. Logic and DC don’t mix. I
was young and stupid.) I turned right. That was when I saw the sign that told
me I was crossing the Potomac River.
Crossing the river may not seem like that big a deal to you. It
isn't, unless you started you trip at Dulles. You see, Dulles airport is not in
Washington, DC. In reality it right outside of St. Louis. You have to drive
forever to actually get from DC to Dulles. It's a joke they play on tourists
and foreign dignitaries. By now I figured that I was an accidental
tourist. Crossing the Potomac took me into the District of Columbia. I
was really in Washington! “OOOOPS” was the first thing that came to mind as I
watched Virginia fade away in my rear view mirror.
This was the point when all traces of sanity faded away and I
began to enjoy the experience. The past two weeks had been rough and this was
the crowning blow to the fragile hold I had on reality. (Some things never
change.) A sign appeared that said "Independence Ave." That sounded
like a nice street to try. I got off the road I was on (which to me will
forever remain the RoadWithNoName) and went on Independence Ave. I saw the
Washington Monument in the distance and decided to use that as a landmark. It
would have worked too if I hadn't been forced to go the opposite direction
by the escaped mental patients that drive on the streets of DC. With a tear I
waved goodbye to the Washington Monument and looked forward to my next
adventure in this new direction.
I found the Kennedy Center! I know. You didn't think it was lost.
If you think that, then you have obviously never tried to drive in Washington,
DC. Trust me, it was lost. That is a cool looking building. Did you know that part
of it just hangs over the road waiting for someone important drive by so it can
fall on it? Apparently, it did not consider me worth smashing to a Doug-shaped
paste. Oh well. I guess I'm not that important to the Kennedy Center. Some
thanks I get. That’s the last time I'll find it when it's lost.
There is a sinister law in DC that says left turns are illegal. I
was not aware of that federal mandate until I tried to turn around. Every
intersection for 87.3 miles said no left turn. You may ask me why I didn't turn
right? It was implied by the other drivers on the road that slowing down long
enough to turn would get you killed by the eighteen people who were tailgating
you. Eventually I found a place to turn right and go around 5 blocks to get
back to what had once been Independence Ave. It was like seeing a long lost
friend. A friend who really didn't like you and tries to make your life as
difficult as possible. Still, in DC, that's a good friend. Don't even ask about
the bad ones.
I retraced my steps and found my way back to the Kennedy Center.
(They still haven't invited me to their honors after all the trouble I went to
by unintentionally helping them become un-lost. But I'm not bitter. REALLY, I'M
NOT BITTER ABOUT THOSE UNGRATEFUL . . .Sorry. I digress.) It was then
that I realized that I had a second chance to find more things for the city of
Washington. I could find the mall! That is the place where all of the really
big monuments supposedly stand as bright, shining examples of things we spend
our tax money on! I thought I owed it to the American people to find these
mythological places and tell the world about them. Sure enough, out of the
mist, I saw the Washington Monument standing tall and proud. Like a beacon to a
weary traveler (that would be me) saying come here and I will help you find
your way. What a liar that monument is! There weren't any Interstates near that
thing.
As I traveled I saw several monuments and some things that may
have been monuments or just buildings that looked odd. It is really hard to
tell a monument from a motel in DC. All buildings have an air of arrogance that
commands your attention. There was one building that looked really important. I
thought that it must have been a government building where decisions are made
concerning the future of the free world. When I saw the on the sign side of the
building, I decided that if the decisions made there affect the free world then
we are in trouble. The only decisions made there are between Big Macs and
McNuggets. So much for the mystique of DC.
As I blissfully wandered and wondered around the country's
capital, I noticed a sign. It said I-395 that way. From the farthest recesses
of my memory came small voice saying Interstates are good. Usually I don't
listen to the voices in my head, but as I said earlier, my sanity was
questionable. I thought of home and family. Life back in Richmond seemed like
such a distant memory. Could this I-395 have hope to save me from aimless
wanderings? Could my quest for home be truly coming to a close? Would I be back
in time to see my sons graduate from high school? Without much faith in the
sign makers or DC, I decided to follow their cruel joke to the finish.
Then I saw it. The sign said "I-395 to Richmond." Could
it be true? Was there a chance? I cut across four lanes of traffic (a modest
accomplishment compared to the other drivers in DC) and followed the signs to
Richmond. It was true. I crossed the Potomac. I found I-95. It almost
brought a tear to my eye as I thought of going home. Eventually I made it back
to the west end of Richmond.
I thought back upon my day and realized that it had taken me two
hours to get to Dulles. It took me four hours to make back home. I was lost and
alone in a strange city. (Trust me. They don't get any stranger than DC.) I had
survived. I was going home. As I clicked my heals together and said there is no
place like home, I had swerve to avoid a car that wanted to occupy the same
space as my car. Oh well. At least I was back in Richmond.
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