By the end of our first day in Our Nation’s Capital, I’d drafted a list of grievances to take to President Obama, at the top of which was the price of a soft pretzel and a beer at the Nationals game ($13.50).

So. I didn’t have a soft pretzel and a beer at the Nationals game.

I did have pretty great seats just behind the third-base foul pole that weren’t too expensive at all. It’s tempting to go for seats nearish to the diamond at baseball games, but I learned it’s just as fun—if not more so—to sit by a foul pole and see outfielders up close and possibly catch a long ball, or to sit by the outfield and be within spitting distance of a bullpen.

Another grievance, though: Stephen Strasburg did not pitch although he was scheduled to, and Kyle specifically chose the Thursday night game just to see Strasburg. His start had been pushed to Friday night’s game. After the Capitol Hill Assault and an Incident on the Subway Involving My Mom Getting Into a Fight (read about that on my personal blog), this was a crushing blow. So we threw in the towel and bought five bowls of Edy’s ice cream.

We headed back to the hotel during the 7th, shortly after the San Diego Padres’ pitcher hit a home run off the Nationals’ Strasburg-replacement hurler. In case you don’t know anything about baseball, a pitcher getting a home run is like Pamela Anderson getting a book deal—offensive to opponents, yet strangely commendable. OH! And the kid who caught the home run ball? He’s the one who brokered a trade with the bull pen: He’d give them the homer ball in exchange for four game balls. (The trade was discussed thoroughly on ESPN’s Pardon the Interruption.)  So I got a free lesson in business deals while I was there. Bonus!

On our way out we stopped to take pictures on a little outfield overlook. Ethan, taken by the rhythm of between-innings music, started to dance in my arms, so I followed suit. And then a park worker told us there was no dancing on the platform.

Off screen, stage right: Disgruntled Nationals Park worker whose job is to defend national security by not allowing fans to dance on the photo platform.

On the train back to the hotel, we vowed that our second day in Our Nation’s Capitol would go better than the first.

Don’t get me wrong, we definitely had fun. But we were determined to wring every last ounce of fun out of the vacation if it killed us—which it nearly did.  Stay tuned.

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I’m back from the Nation’s Capital!

Our first day in D.C., we took the metro to Union Station…

…where we also picked up our hop-on-hop-off trolley tour. If you feel confident enough to travel on a subway when visiting a big city, I highly recommend it. An all-day metro pass is a lot cheaper and easier than driving and parking. However, there’s always the grumpy locals to deal with, but it’s a give and take, right?

Anyway, our first stop was the Capitol Building.

Someone told us there was a cafeteria inside, so we hopped off at the West Entrance, where all inaugurations have been held since Reagan, and hiked the roughly four miles to the East Entrance, where visitors are permitted.

Let me rephrase that. We hopped off at the West Entrance and hiked the roughly four miles to the East Entrance, where visitors are diddled.

Noah had cleverly brought along a bag of beef jerky for snacking, which the guards made him throw away.

“Or you can eat it now,” they generously allowed.

Seeing as he couldn’t quickly eat a pound of salted beef without water in desert conditions (it was approximately 123 degrees that day), he begrudingly took the bag of jerky to the conveniently located trashcan.

“That stuff is expensive,” one of the guards added helpfully.

In addition, Dad had to throw away the bag of M&Ms he had packed in Ethan’s Emergency Kit. And their brand-new spray bottle of suntan lotion.

Lunch at the Capitol cafeteria was worth its weight in gold—and I don’t mean that figuratively. A salad, a sandwich and two sodas cost us upwards of 20 bucks. Even though I wasn’t hungry anymore, I forced down a slice of boiled egg and a broccoli floret because, being among the heavier items in the pay-by-weight salad, I knew they had cost me big.

On the plus side, most of the major attractions in D.C. are free admittance. Something about patriotism or whatnot. Truly, the architecture and history are so spectacular, it makes up for $40 lunches.

We slogged back to the West Entrance (during which I sweated off my entire lunchtime caloric intake) and hopped on the trolley. Still sore from being told to bend over at Capitol Hill, our next stop—the National Air and Space Museum—was a welcome diversion.

I was truly delighted by Ethan’s reaction to the museum. He loves airplanes and frequently points them out in the sky above our house, and seeing some up close was a real treat for him. Even more delightful was his joy at seeing all the “rocket ships” in the museum’s space exploration wing. I got to show him the inside of John Glenn’s historic Mercury capsule, as well as the command module of the moon-landing Apollo 11. He even got to touch a sliver of moon rock. I know he probably won’t remember any of this, but it’s something I’ll never forget.

After that it was back to the subway headed to Nationals Park for a ballgame. Kyle had chosen Thursday evening’s game because Stephen Strasburg was scheduled to pitch, a sight wondrous to behold.

Little did we know, Mom was about to get into a throw-down on the D.C. Metro…

Stay tuned for more dispatches from D.C.!

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