‘HOWDY’, the inscription on wings of a Spirit airplane cheered up its passengers as we were flying from Denver to Fort Lauderdale. Not everyone on the plane was in a good mood. The flight was almost 2 hours late. Spirit did not have a pilot in Denver to fly our aircraft. The airline sent one from Chicago and his flight was delayed 5 hours. The poor stuck pilot landed at DIA and ran from one terminal to another while we were waiting for him on board. Then the out of breath pilot announced that ‘safety first’ and went through the required checkup procedures that took half an hour. Finally at 1.30 am we left. After the delay at DIA I had only 15 minutes to make the connection in Fort Lauderdale. Luckily my next flight to Baltimore was departing from the same area and it took me no time to walk to the gate.
My destination was Washington, D.C., but going via Baltimore was much cheaper. This trip was taken out of necessity and I did not want to spend much on it. In 2006 I stayed in Washington 5 days enjoying its excellent free (!) state museums and had no intention to come again. My preference is to go see new places.
However, Man plans and God laughs. It happened so that I needed to do some paperwork at Australian and Russian consulates. Colorado, where I live, only has honorary consuls who could not help. When my husband Sergey told me that he had an upcoming workshop in Washington, D.C., I decided to go with him. It is the US capital where all embassies and consulates are located. I would stay at the hotel with my husband. My only expenses would be the airfare, a few meals and public transport in Washington.
Sergey was going to be in D.C. from Monday to Friday. My estimate was that one day per consulate would be enough plus one additional spare day in case things went wrong. We both left home on Sunday, but flew by different airlines. My husband’s American flight was in the morning. I chose to travel by a budget airline all night, to be in Washington on Monday morning and to go straight to the Australian consulate that is conveniently located in Downtown. Getting to the Russian consulate was not that easy. I made an appointment for Tuesday. My return flight was on Wednesday, late afternoon. Thus I was going to spend in Washington only 2 nights and perhaps to do some sightseeing on Wednesday morning if all business was completed by that.
I did get to Baltimore as planned on Monday at 9.30 am. The Australian consulate is closed between noon and 2 pm. Visiting it did not require an appointment. My goal was to be there before the break and not to hang around for 2 hours. This meant 2.5 hours for the trip from the airport in Baltimore to the consulate – tight, but not unrealistic. The MetroBus B30 leaves BWI every 40 to 60 minutes and goes to Greenbelt station. The fare is only $6, the ride takes about 40 minutes with no traffic jams.
I traveled with a small backpack. Firstly, because Spirit charges extra for anything bigger than that. Secondly, I did not want to carry with me something heavy all day long. Sergey packed my toothbrush and a few other items that were not needed until I’d get to our hotel room.
The weather in Colorado was warm with temperatures in the 70s. Washington was expecting a snowstorm. Usually in March it is the other way around. I stuffed a wool jumper, a hat and gloves into the backpack and carried a lightweight coat over my arm.
Even though I did not check in any luggage it took some precious time to get out of the plane, put on my warm clothes and walk to the bus stop. I nervously looked at my watch. I could not afford to wait long for the bus, but it showed up in 5 minutes. At Greenbelt station I paid $2 for a SmarTrip® card and put $20 on it. This card is the cheapest way to travel in Washington. The metro is easy to navigate, but of course I took a train into the wrong direction when switching from the Green line to Red. I often do that no matter how many times I check where I am going. My sense of direction is a laughing matter for my husband who is sure that without him I would not get anywhere. More time was lost to change trains and to go into the opposite (correct) direction. Many metro stations in Washington have more than one exit. Rest assured, I took the farthest from the consulate exit. Walking as fast as I could and making no new mistakes, I reached the consulate at 11.30 am.
Formalities at the entrance were simple – going through the metal detector and an ID check. Inside I was free to wander in the building on my own. The paperwork was done quickly and efficiently. One of the two items on my to-do list was crossed off.
Sergey was busy at his workshop until late. I had the entire afternoon to kill. After lunch I walked to the recently opened Trump International hotel curious to see what it is like. The lobby and the restaurant were lavishly decorated with crystal. A helpful hotel manager doubled as a guide and patiently answered questions from numerous visitors who like me came just to look at it.
The day was sunny with the temperature in low 40s, pleasant enough to be outdoors. I strolled to the National Space and Air museum, one of Smithsonian museums that I had not seen during my first time in Washington. Don’t be put off by the museum name. It is for everyone. No need to be a technical person to enjoy museum’s excellent exhibits.
It was getting late, the wind picked up and I was looking for a warm and reasonably priced place to eat before heading to the hotel. My husband had lunch and dinner provided at the workshop. We were going only to have breakfasts together. The Pavilion café in the Art Sculpture garden turned out to be exactly what I needed. After a good meal I walked to the nearest metro station and took the train to Spring Hill where the workshop and our hotel were. The Spring Hill station is on the Silver line and located in Fairfax County, Virginia. The hotel was one block from the station. It was already dark when I got the key from our room. The sleepless night on the planes and a lot of walking during the day made me wish for 2 things only – a nice shower and a comfortable bed. My husband came. We watched the weather forecast and did not like it.
It snowed at night; it snowed so heavily that walking was difficult. The temperature on Tuesday morning was around 30°F (-1°C). Wearing all the clothes that I took with me, I left the hotel early. My appointment at the Russian consulate was at 9.30 am. This consulate is rather far from a metro station. At first I tried to avoid walking too much, especially on a cold day like that. My plan failed spectacularly. The bus that could take me close to the consulate did not come, probably because the streets were snowed in. I dove again into the metro, got to Woodley Park station, then steadily plowed through the snow to Wisconsin Avenue. The sun came out; the old brick houses in a historic residential district looked lovely, my mood improved and I even became glad that I got to see this area. The time of my appointment passed, but I was making good progress and hoped not to be too late. My husband printed out for me a map with instructions. He drew an arrow on the map that pointed south on Wisconsin Avenue. I kept going and wondered where the consulate was. Russian consulates are large compounds, but I saw around was small businesses and low-rise apartments. Something was wrong. I checked house numbers. Of course, I was going in the opposite direction. At least this time it was not my mistake. Hurriedly I walked north retracing my steps past the same buildings until I came to a solid stone fence. It was well above human height with rows of barbed wire on top. This was the Russian consulate. It occupied the entire block between Wisconsin Avenue and Tunlaw Rd. A wide gated entrance on Wisconsin Avenue was to the embassy. A nondescript door in this blind fence on Tunlaw Rd led to the consulate.
I stated my business through the intercom and apologized for being late. The door clicked and opened. Right behind it there was a narrow passage that took me to a tiny room where a security guard checked my backpack and the id. He told me to turn off my phone. Then another door clicked and I was allowed to proceed to the next room, also very small. A female receptionist sat behind a window. I explained once again why I was where. She pressed the button and opened for me another door. I walked through it and found myself outside of the building, but within the compound. A partition made of thick wire blocked the way to anywhere except to one more locked door. I spoke through the intercom again, the last door clicked and finally I was in the reception area of the consulate. There were no other visitors. Although I was seriously late, the staff did not say anything. My paperwork was done and I left the consulate the same way I came in.
Once I was back on the street I breathed a sigh of relief. Everything went well, but what should I do for the rest of the day? My map showed a zoo nearby. All right, let’s see it. No, the zoo was closed probably because of the inclement weather. Perhaps, another museum that is always open? A train ride to Downtown, more walking and I was in the National Gallery of Art browsing their collections. Hungry as hell I checked the Gallery’s cafeterias – no luck, both were closed. Walked to the Pavilion Café thinking of the hot thick soup that I had there yesterday – closed too. All right, what was open? Aha, Starbucks. A salad and a cappuccino were not exactly a satisfying meal, but didn’t I want to stay lean? Then I should not be complaining. Tired, I decided to call it a day. The trip to the hotel took a whole hour and it was again dark when I got to the room.
There was no more snow overnight, but the temperature dropped below freezing. My return flight was via Chicago. On Wednesday morning I logged in to check in for it and found that the departure from Baltimore was delayed 2.5 hours. This meant I would miss the connection and spend the night in Chicago. Should I fly anyway or try to change the ticket? My husband was staying in Washington 2 more nights. I called Spirit Airlines. Their flight on Thursday was full. They could only offer me a seat on the Friday flight at no charge. I changed the ticket reasoning that I had a roof over my head until Friday. Sergey went to work; I did not want to get out. My wool coat was not windproof. The wind chilled me to the bone when I went to the shopping plaza to find a lunch place and also to get some food to eat later. After lunch I bought at the supermarket a box of sushi and fresh blackberries. That was going to be my dinner. In the room I curled up in bed in front of TV and watched movies until late night. It was supposed to be a quick trip and my laptop was left at home. Without it I could not work.
Thursday was much warmer. The cold front was moving out of Washington. We needed to plan our day. The tricky part was that we had to move to a different hotel. Thursday was the last day of the workshop. Sergey booked a room at Hyatt Regency near Dulles International airport because his flight was leaving from it on Friday afternoon. He made a reservation to rent a car and planned to hike on Friday morning, then to go straight to the airport. Hiking after that snowstorm looked impossible and he cancelled the rental car reservation. My husband again put some of my belongings into his backpack. He was going to be at the workshop all day. I took the rest of my stuff. I would be on my feet exploring the parts of Washington where I had not been yet. Sergey explained that in order to get to Hyatt I should ride the train on the Silver line to the last stop Wiehle-Reston, then take a shuttle to the airport and another shuttle from the airport to the hotel if I wanted a free transfer to the hotel. The alternative way was to take a public bus from Wiehle-Reston station. That sounded easy. We checked out and parted for the day.
I went to Rosslyn metro station, crossed the Potomac and walked along the streets of Georgetown admiring the architecture until I came to Tudor Place (http://www.tudorplace.org). This land was purchased by George Washington’s granddaughter and her husband. The house was owned by their family for six generations until it became a museum. The collection features a few items that belonged to George Washington. Lafayette stayed at this house. A piece of American history, the Tudor Place is also a wonderful place to immerse yourself into the atmosphere of the by-gone times. The rooms looked like the family still were living there. The tables were set; the bathtub was ready to be used. Every item was lovingly preserved and cared for. The 2-hour tour was all for me alone. There were no anyone else at the museum.
From Tudor Place I returned to the waterfront and walked past The Watergate hotel to the Memorials. My favorite is the Korean War Veterans Memorial where 19 statues of soldiers stand in natural poses among granite rocks and juniper bushes as if they were on patrol.
Next was the National Museum of Natural History. I did not have time to see it all and chose the halls with the fantastic collection of gems and minerals.
Enlightened, I took the train to Wiehle-Reston. My phone showed that Hyatt Regency was not that far from the metro station.
‘Why to use the bus when I can walk to it?’ thought I.
The navigator led me to the Washington and Old Dominion trail. I happily hiked through the park for a while until the sun started to go down. The trail was poorly lit and totally deserted. I quickened the pace and kept checking the navigator screen that said “15 min to destination, 10 min, 5 …” With the last rays of sun I got out of the park and saw the hotel on the other side of the intersection.
Glad that I made it, I walked into the lobby and handed my reservation to a hotel receptionist.
“Ma’am, your reservation is for Hyatt Regency Dulles and this is Hyatt Regency Reston,’ he said. ‘Please drive to the other Hyatt. It is only 5 miles from here’.
Dumbstruck, I said ‘I do not have a car’ and thought ‘who the hell gives these hotels similar names like this!?’
‘How did you get here?’ asked the receptionist.
‘I walked’.
The receptionist’s face clearly expressed his opinion about me. He did not put it into words though. Instead he offered to call me a taxi. I declined. It was meant to be a low-budget trip. The receptionist shrugged his shoulders and busied himself with papers feeling like he did his job. It was not his fault that some people were idiots. The night fell. It was too late to go through the dark park back to the metro station and to take the bus. I went outside and stood there having no idea what to do.
‘Are you going to the airport?’ asked a voice behind me. I turned around. It was a shuttle bus driver.
‘Yes, I am!’ The problem was solved. I wanted to hug the driver as if he had been an angel sent to rescue me. My honest story about how I ended up at the wrong Hyatt made him laugh. At the airport the driver spotted a shuttle of the other Hyatt and put me on it. The shuttle with me drove to its proper stop where people lined up to get on. My husband was standing there too.
‘How come you are already on the bus?’
I told Sergey what happened. Knowing me, he was not surprised. Together we checked in into Hyatt Regency Dulles. It was a long day and I slept well.
Since the hike on Friday got cancelled we had nothing to do and spent a leisurely morning in the room until it was time to check out. Sergey’s flight was from Dulles International airport, but I needed to return to Baltimore. He walked me to the bus stop and made sure that I took the right bus. There was plenty of time until my flight. I decided to have a stopover in Downtown on the way to the airport.
My SmarTrip® card did not have enough money on it when I tried to exit at Dupont Circle station. Fare vending machines are at every station. I inserted a 5-dollar bill and my card into one of them. The vending machine swallowed the money and did something to the card that made it invalid. The station manager on duty sighed when I told her about the incident.
‘They really need to fix this machine,’ she said. ‘It’s the second time today’. She filled out a report and told me to call the number on the form to get a refund. The money would be credited back to the card in two weeks.
‘Yes, but my card no longer works. Besides, I am flying home this afternoon’.
‘Honey, just call this number and they will do something about it’, with that the manager let me out of the station. I walked a few blocks with no particular purpose, saw nothing worth mentioning, had lunch and bought a sandwich to eat on the plane. Back underground instead of buying a new SmarTrip® card I showed my report to the manager there. He nodded in understanding and waved me to go through without paying. The same thing happened when I was getting out of the metro at Greenbelt. The total fare that I owed for the ride was about $5 which was the amount lost to the vending machine. I never called the company that sells SmarTrip® cards and kept my invalid card as a souvenir.
The rest of the trip went without setbacks. I picked up my car from the parking lot at the airport in Denver where the car stayed five days instead of three and drove home. My expenses exceeded the original budget, but what the heck! It was a fun trip anyway.