Give me Liberty or At Least Give Me a Decent Cup of Coffee

After our three hour tour on the side of the road, and a jogging tour of the first few sites in Washington, D.C., led by Speedy McRunnypants the tour guide, I'll admit my trip to Washington with the Sharon Elementary School Safety Patrol got a little hazy. 

Of course, any period of time on a bus clouded with pre-adolescent hormones would do that to you. Speedy McRunnypants had us moving at warp speed past every building of historical significance which, in a place like D.C., is every single building. 

I honestly can't remember what happened on day one or day two. The first day we kept going and going and didn't get back to the hotel ‘til nearly 11pm.  Breakfast was provided for us at 7:30am at the hotel, and every morning was the same -- fruit, cereal, eggs, bacon, sausage, and hash browns.  Not really a bad breakfast. 

The only problem with it was that the coffee was provided in these little tiny bathroom-sized cups, and there were no lids, so I couldn't bring any on the bus. I was seriously jonesing for some coffee, and offered the bus driver $20.00 if he would please for the love of all that was good and holy stop at a Starbucks. After the Capital Tour and the Bureau of Printing and Engraving, we went to the Holocaust Museum. Nothing like the Holocaust Museum to put jonesing for coffee in perspective.

Several hundred monuments later, some other Moms and I were extremely close to losing whatever toe hold on sanity we still had. I made a vow to my comrades-at-aching-feet that if we weren't heading back to the hotel by 9pm, I was going to hijack the bus. I informed the teacher/chaperones (who, I have to say, are absolute candidates for beatification for making and coordinating this trip, and putting up with 24 kids, none of whom they are even related to, as well as whiner-pants rabble-rouser parents like me) that I was going to do so.  When asked where I was going to take my hostages I said, "The hotel. And I am not taking hostages, I believe I am freeing them."  I was foiled in my plan by a 45 minute tour of the Kennedy Center involving several miles of walking and trying to keep up with Speedy McRunnypants that began at 8:53pm with an assurance that "this will be quick."

I know all this sounds suspiciously like complaining, and I really am glad that we got to see so many things, but really, it is impossible to appreciate the awe and beauty of things, and contemplate their significance when all your brain cells are devoted to the difficult task of keeping yourself upright on rubbery legs with half the AMA's recommended daily allowance of sleep and only a shot glass’ worth of caffeine to compensate.

The last day we had a semi-free day and were allowed to roam the mall/Smithsonian at our leisure. We did the obligatory Natural History and Air and Space Museum tour. Despite all the super cool things at the Smithsonian, I think the highlight for the boys was when I allowed them to hail a cab to take us to the restaurant we went to for lunch that was about five blocks away.  Remember -- these are country boys. I forgot how exotic and exciting something like hailing a cab would be for them. At the end of the day, we had a little less than an hour before the meet up time, and I forced the boys to go with me to the National Gallery of Art.  Clearly, I was not thinking, or even capable of thinking, at that point, because the boys spent the entire time pointing and giggling like, well, like eleven-year-old boys at the realistic anatomy on the statues and paintings.

Eventually, we boarded the bus and headed home. We drove overnight, and the idea was that we would sleep. I won't give too much description of those hours, because I can’t.  I believe my brain is trying to protect me by destroying the brain cells that contain the memories. 

Suffice it to say that after the bus broke down and they finally did find a substitute bus for us, it wasn't exactly the bus everyone was fighting to have. The seats were upholstered in sand paper and the head rests were apparently held on with a complicated series of razor blades and gougey metal things.  The metal cover for the air vent was loose, and went kaCHUNK kaCHUNK every time we hit a pot hole or someone breathed on it.  The hard plastic immovable arm 'rests' and other poky things were only tolerable because each time I felt something jab me during the trip I bought a stuffed animal of the right size and shape to cushion the jabbing. I think I came home with sixty stuffed animals. I probably got three non-consecutive hours of sleep, so when I got home at 6:30 in the morning, I promptly took a shower and then fell face first on my bed until about 1pm.

I have to say, though, it was a great trip.  Or at least, a great trip to have been on.  My favorite part was watching the excitement and joy on my son's face as he realized these things in the history books were real, and I could almost see the gears turning in his head as things hit home for him.  But I'm glad to be home, too, to the comfort of my bed and the presence of my husband and daughter, and the ready availability of all the coffee I can drink. 

So, to my fellow Moms out there (and the one lonely Dad), you are my foxhole buddies, and, like warriors who experienced battle together, no one else can truly understand, and no matter what happens, we will always share a bond that no one else on planet Earth could ever understand.   I will think of you every time my calves ache and there isn't enough coffee.

Note: This post is the last in a three part series describing the Sharon Elementary School Safety Patrol’s trip to our nation’s capitol.