May 22-30, 1995
Most recipients of my previous travel log did not appreciate all of the subtle references as I provided very little context for some of the anecdotes. I expected that. I have friends from many disparate groups that will never meet and they all have their own unique funny things to say about me. Even fewer people will comprehend the references in this report. The only thing I can offer as solace and encouragement is: rest assured that what follows is hysterically funny!
My trip back East was delayed by a few days due to a command performance I needed to make in Traffic Court. I prepared thoroughly: large box of donuts--half jelly, half chocolate. I was hoping to settle out of court. No luck. They do not allow food in the court room. I got there plenty early and was relieved to find an absence of officers in the court room. Now I could keep the donuts to myself! Unfortunately, several officers ultimately entered the room. I did not know which, if any, of them was responsible for erroneously giving me a ticket for running a Stop sign. I did know my only chance at acquittal would be if my guy did not attend. So there I was on the Group W bench sitting next to mother rapers and father rapers. It is amazing how awful lowlifes look when they want to gain favor with the court. Don't they get it? The judge and I were the only ones in ties. Maybe the joke was on me, though. All of their cases were dropped because their officers neglected to show. I, on the other hand, was found guilty. Another case of blind justice!
I had to spend another $30 (on top of ~$120) for inquiring about Traffic School. They gave me a list of schools with names like Funny Traffic School, and Funny Traffic School with Pizza. They were all 8-4 on Saturday and cost $32 except for the pizza one. That one cost $33, but it included pizza; such a deal! Finally I found one located in Mountain View called Cheap School. Since my concern was for the receipt saying I attended, rather than for the quality of the course, this school fit the bill. It is offered in a conference room in my apartment so I guess I can go in my jammies. It'll be just like telecommuting! With the money I save, I can buy my own pizza.
Later that night, I took the redeye to DC. It was a very rough and crowded flight; it was also USAir and I thought my number was up. I guess I will just have to add this to the list of secrets to keep from Grandma! (D'oh! She read it already!)
Eric met me at the gate at Washington National, loaded me up with a Metro card, and we were off to Dupont Circle (affectionately known as the Fruit Loop). After settling on his couch, I cracked open my AAA book and showed Eric the list of places I wanted to visit. He laid in a course. Engage!
Before leaving his building, Eric introduced me to the door attendant and filled out several forms in triplicate so that I could reenter unassisted. This has never worked in the past, and sure enough it did not suffice this time. Every time I got back to the building, Carleton and I played twenty questions before he was satisfied and would let me upstairs. Must be some union thing.
Eric and I finally hit the street. Unfortunately, we were too early for Anderson House, and Ranger Rick told us that Old Stone House was being repaired. I did not get breakfast on the plane, and since Eric never misses a food-op, we decided to get some lunch. Eric was feeling particularly generous having just cashed his unemployment check (the Newt Man sacked him) so he bought some chicken at Safeway, we had a picnic in a park, and we continued our trek through Georgetown. (That's not fair; Eric is always very generous. . . well, except when it comes to shower soap!)
We finally made it to Dumbarton House. We were fortunate to get a decent docent, and she laughed at us as well! The house was originally inhabited by a Mr. Nourse, Secretary of the Treasury for the first 7 Presidents. I wondered whether it was the same dude for which the bridge in the Bay Area was named. In a pop quiz, the docent asked us whom we were fighting in the Revolutionary War. In my best uncertain schoolboy voice I replied "Commies?" even before she could pull out the captured Red Coat. [This does not read as funny as it was in real life.] She also mentioned that after meals, the guys would pass around a bucket in which to pee. I am glad we are more civilized today and can go during Beavis and Butthead commercial breaks!
On our way back to Eric's apartment, we wound our way past the Gore's house, a bunch of embassies, and the Kahlil Gibran memorial. Eric pointed out the embassies with the best food. We met Mom for dinner and made plans to visit the Holocaust Museum the next day. And it was the morning. And it was the evening. The first day.
I had been wanting to visit the FBI for some time and I planned on doing it before meeting Mom at the Holocaust Museum. Unfortunately, I got lost on the way to the FBI. Thinking quick, I revealed a film canister to a Secret Service agent outside the White House and asked him how to get to the FBI. He got me there right away! Those guys are really on their toes after closing down Pennsylvania to automobile traffic.
Having shared the FBI line with half the fourth graders from Charlotte, I was exhausted even before I got to the Holocaust Museum, but I spent three and one half hours there anyway. I did not like it as much as Yad Vashem in Jerusalem, but it is a lot closer to home and I did not need a passport to get there. The best part was the walking tour of the rooms recreating events described in a child's diary. That was much more interesting and informative than most of the other displays and descriptions of the events of the time exhibited in other parts of the museum. I was surprised to see the rest of my family's names on the list of founding sponsors when I went to check on my own name. The fact that Eric's address is listed as Warrendale, PA, and Dad's is listed as NYC must be another family secret I have not yet unraveled.
The next day I made my customary pilgrimages to the National Air & Space Museum and both wings of the National Gallery. I could not find the advertised display of Barbie in flight uniforms at NASM and nobody there seemed to know anything about it. Must have been something I dreamt while recovering from the commissary chile! At the National Gallery I remarked to an attendant that I remembered more Monets on previous visits and that they were in different rooms than they are currently. I was right on both counts. Nobody messes with Claude without my taking notice!
Before I finish with DC, I should mention that Eric was the consummate host. He had a refrigerator loaded with Oreos and premium OJ, and he taped Letterman for me every night. He no longer lives in the apartment with the shiniest kitchen floor in DC, but he does have a view of the Washington Monument so he's got that going for him.
That night, I went over to the apartment that Rich shares with Ann. It turned out to be across the street from Intelsat, which I toured on a previous visit. I quietly wondered whether Rich also would give me a satellite pin on my departure. Since Ann was away on business, Rich and I did what we always do when we reunite after a long time--we ordered in some Chinese food. I asked Rich if it was delivered by a guy on a bicycle as they do in NY, but he replied it was not that good. After eating, but before coming down from the MSG buzz, we went for a small hike at a wooded stream across the street. I was able to show off the stream fording skills I picked up in Rocky Mountain National Park a few weeks prior. Rich was very impressed.
We then went over to Jack's place in Bethesda so I could meet Monica and their menagerie of cats and dogs living together. We went out for Greek food. The evening went by in a rapid blur and I was back at Eric's before I knew what hit me. Must have been the MSG (or the crash of the breaking plates!) I never had the chance to ask Monica if she still thought I was the smart one after meeting me in person. I made arrangements for the next day to have lunch with Jack and dinner with Rich so I could have some quality time with each of them.
The next day, Jack and I were crowded out of The Flight Line at NASM, so we settled for the buffet on the concourse between the wings at the National Gallery. Lunch was pretty uneventful and I let Jack get back to work so he could close his file on Rich by the end of the week.
I had never been to the Supreme Court, and since I was in the neighborhood, I decided to stop by and research this Traffic Court thing a little further. I must be watching too much TV or something because I was very surprised to find no mention of judges Wopner, Ito (what does he call himself. . . Lance?), or that Martian from Picket Fences. None of them have seats or are even mentioned in the program!
That night, Rich and I were planning to order in some food. Ann asked Rich to clean the bathroom because of an imminent apartment inspection. Knowing that Ann preferred pizza to Chinese, while Rich and I could not afford to waste our limited time together on a non-Chinese meal, I suggested that Rich agree to clean the bathroom in exchange for Chinese take out. It worked, and for many reasons, we were reminded of happy times at the Magic Gourd about ten years prior. (Mom, Eric and I passed near the Magic Gourd after touring the State Department the next day but it just would not be the same without Rich so we skipped it!) The Blues Brothers on TV topped off the evening, and by the time I left, we could all see the light. Speaking of light, there was a major Son et Lumiere show going on outside that reminded me of the battle of Gettysburg. Actually, it was just a very exciting thunder storm. I was very fascinated by it because we do not get storms like that in California, but to Rich it was just another nice evening in DC!
Another good thing about visiting with Rich was that being a broker, he was able to give me a market report every day. I did not have Web access in DC and missed not checking on things. He was even able to get me a good deal on some Pioneer Aviation stock!
When in the course of human events it becomes necessary to entertain foreign dignitaries, the US State Department rises to the occasion. On Friday, the Brodys entered the State Department to tour the official reception rooms. I really liked the way the rooms were outfitted and I mentally tried to transfer some decoration ideas back home to Chez Disaster/Casa Eclectic. I had a difficult time marrying the colonial furniture and wall hangings with the dozens of aerospace pictures, hundreds of CDs, four score and seven tennis trophies, and surround sound already present. What would Jefferson say?
One of my favorite rooms was the Franklin room. It looked like a (very) mini Hall of Mirrors from Versailles. Actually, it did not have any mirrors, but the historical, formal nature of the room presented the same stately diplomatic impression as does Versailles--although (appropriately) not as regal. Mom said the same thing and she was not even dosed on Chinese food for two days running! I especially liked seeing Thomas Jefferson's desk and the table on which the Treaty of Paris was signed. We could not find any mini egg rolls lying around so we left hungry.
Mom was eager to beat the Memorial Day traffic to NY (why do people go from DC to NY on Memorial Day anyway?) so we dropped Eric off and began our drive. We stopped off at Janet's to buy a parrot because Mom needs someone to talk to when Dad's away in Albany and Vanna keeps revealing the wrong letters. I convinced Mom that she would be better off with a turtle and we left unencumbered. I knew Dad would appreciate my efforts and he began to repay me when I hit NY with a ton of bagels and several early morning hours of tennis.
Mom and I hit the road again and I described how I was conditioning my Ph.D. colleagues to call me Master by my calling them Doctor. Mom was impressed, or at least hungry, and I convinced her we should check out an all-you-can-swallow in AC (Atlantic City) on the way to NY. It had been many years since I had been to AC. I suggested we check out the Donald's Taj Mahal, which was rumored to have the best buffet in town. At least that's what their ad's said. The waiter thought he was being cute by calling Mom Miss America and calling me Doctor. I was about to say "That's Master to you," but I caught myself in the nick of time. (I will tell all interested parties in private why this would have been a major faux pas.) The buffet turned out to be pretty poor. I'll take the Rio in Vegas, or the Clarion or Peppermill in Reno any day. Mom got so exhausted feeding a slot machine, that she asked me to drive the rest of the way to Baldwin. Also, she will not let me forget that this was an AC/DC trip! (I think Mom finally got one of Grandma's dirty jokes!)
Passing my high school in Baldwin, I noticed a sign saying the President recognized it as a School of Excellence. I could not figure out whether this was true because I went there, or because I no longer go there. All I can say is, I am really glad they taught me how to write good. Other famous sites in my home town include Taylor Dane's hairdresser, Dee Snider's tailor, Joey Buttafuoco's repair shop, and the house where Amy Fisher worked. I had just heard Letterman say that Joey had just gotten into trouble out of town, so I knew not to ask Mom if his car was in.
On Saturday, I got up at 7 am, 4 am my time, to show Dad the serve I taught Sampras. The reception we got at the courts reminded me of Visitor's Day at camp 20 years earlier only this time I was being introduced as Gary's son, instead of him being introduced as Addy's Daddy. My partners on the court asked if I had been playing for a while. I replied that I started playing on these courts long before M*A*S*H was in syndication. They were awestruck. One perceptive player noticed that I had been holding back on my serve when serving to the women players. I explained that Dad always taught me to be nice to girls because someday I may find a use for them. (I'm still searching!)
Later that day, we went over to Grandma Mollie's to take her out for her Birthday. David (that's Uncle to me!) and Audrea were already there when we arrived. (How come they always beat us?) We did what we always do after we are reunited after an extended separation, we took Grandma out for her favorite food, C*****, (something I cannot put in print. . . for religious reasons). Todd called in with Birthday wishes and, as President of the Cousin's Club, the Next Generation, I reprimanded him for not signing the gift he sent to Grandma. He promised to send me email, but nothing has shown up yet.
Sunday began with more tennis. Dad handed me off to three of his friends for some mixed doubles, and he picked up a match with another triplet. Once again, I impressed the girls with my tennis skills and it was good to know I still make the 50 year old women drool! They all wanted to take me home to play. . . with their children! The other guy on the court appeared to be jealous of the attention I was getting. I assured him he had nothing to worry about; I would be leaving in a few days.
My next match was with 3 guys named Henry. (3 Henries?) I knew there was a joke in there somewhere, but all I could think of was that there were three sharpshooters up in the what-do-you-call mezzarine area: Henry, Henry, and. . . what was the third one's name? Most of the ensuing match felt like the Stooges meet Abbott and Costello. After finishing there, I caught up with Dad and we went home and prepared to visit his parents.
It turned out that Jules had pinched one of Shirley's nerves so she was bedridden trying to determine when the pancakes he had flipped would deorbit! Since Grandma could not get up to make any of her renowned Swedish meatballs, we brought in deli and got a serious cholesterol buzz from roast beef, pastrami, and thousand island dressing. We used turkey to cleanse the pallet.
Later that night, I met baby Jessica for the first time. Mama Deb, and Papa Paulie stuck around for supervision. (Can't be too careful with us displaced aerospace workers!) I was very appreciative that they changed her into the tie-dyed onesie (with matching socks) I bought for her at a Dead show last July. (I am within minutes of departing for my first one since then as I write this.) I had been wanting to get one of them some tie-dyed underwear for some time, but figuring that Deb probably would not care too much for it, I did not know whether to get boy underwear or girl underwear. When Paul announced he was pregnant, I knew that a baby's onesie was the answer!
Since Deb was busy doing baby things, Paul and I did what we always do when we reunite: we ordered in Chinese food. (Anybody notice a pattern here!) Between the cholesterol and the MSG, I was well prepared for a long evening of All in the Family, M*A*S*H, and Get Smart reruns. Another thing we always do when I hit NY. I am not sure Jessica appreciated them as much as we did; she fell asleep in my arms. I know Paul will not lend her the car keys until she can recite a large fraction of the Tuttle episode, but she is young and she has plenty of time to learn. I was very proud of myself for teaching Jessica how to stick out her tongue. I am going to write my buddy Dave and ask him to have a segment on stupid baby tricks (stupid Adam tricks?)
Somewhere along the line, Dad took the car through a car wash. I was sorry I missed it. I have liked going through car washes ever since Eric cried in one when we were little. (I have always hoped that that was not the reason.) I was pretty sure that Dad did not enjoy it as much as I did, especially since he did not leave the windows open to get the inside done as I had suggested! Dad has had many Great Adventures on his own, but this was not one of them.
Later that day, I asked Mom if I could use the washing machine. She volunteered to wash my clothes for me. Either I had been unusually well behaved this week, she was grateful I bought her dinner in AC, or she remembered the time I used dish washing soap instead of laundry detergent. I appreciate both the effort and the extra sock I received upon completion! Thanks again, Mom.
Monday night I was very tired and I had to get up at 4 am the next day to catch my flight back home. I did not really want to stay up to catch Letterman, and I did not want to bring a tape back with me on the plane. What a dilemma! Fortunately, it was a rerun (and I stayed up to watch it anyway!)
The trip back home was uneventful, even the stop in Kansas City. I went right to work from the airport and my boss was very surprised to see me as she did not expect me until the next day. I was going to tell her that I would be seeing 3 Grateful Dead shows that weekend and I wanted to telecommute on Friday because it would take me all day to prepare, but I thought better of it. I was not sure if I would have time to write this trip report, but I noticed a bunch of upcoming meetings on my calendar so I would have plenty of opportunity. If I have occasion, I will continue this diary with chapters describing the Grateful Dead's spring 1995 visit to Shoreline Amphitheater, and the Mountain View Tennis Club's men's doubles tournament.
Respectfully submitted,
&^%(The astronaut hopeful formerly known as Adam)
