As I stated, I love a get-a-way. . . . getting there, and back, seems to be half the adventure.
On my most recent weekend get-a-way to see my nephew graduate high school, I flew to DCA - Washington Reagan Airport. Now for those of you who travel into the DC area you know from experience the landing at DCA is usually an abrupt one. The runway is short due to the Potomac River that you are convinced you will skid across as you look out the window upon your decent. On this particular flight the landing was my.worst.ever. A pocket of turbulence intercepted an otherwise smooth decent that had us pop up and to the side right before we were to touch down, THUS, causing the plane to loose even more of the already shortened runway, THEREFORE creating an outburst from both myself and my chair mate. Once we did touch down the abrupt screeching halt the plane needed to preform in order to make the full stop caused me to hug the chair in front of me - full face smack into the chair before the inevitable throwback into my seat. How nice.
I depart then rush to the waiting taxi stand where I have opted to invest in a cab ride rather than taking the metro to King St Station in Alexandria so I may hopefully get there quick enough to get on the express train to Quantico versus the regular train on the VRE.
Now, I spend some time in the Alexandria area . . . .have for years . . . .have even driven myself around with little people in car going to and from various places and am somewhat comfortable in a small vacinity of the area. I can handle Braddock Rd, King St, I know how to get to Old Towne and I certainly know how to find Cheesetique and The Dairy Godmother. I can even get from the airport to TA's house. That being said - getting from the airport to King St Station in Old Towne is not something I have ever done and while I knew the direction to go in, I am not one to direct a cabbie nor am I one to direct a cabbie on a Friday afternoon in the DC area. What I do know is I have 15 minutes to make the train and I wanna make that train.
So, I inform the cabbie dictator I want to go to Old Towne and he points me to a cab. The cabbie is not pleased as he wants a DC fare and I fear he took his frustration out on getting me to my destination. He asks, "Where to?" (that's the best middle eastern accent I can convey) and I inform him King Street Train station (this becomes important) in Alexandria. He proceeds, slowly to our destination. Things are looking vaguely familiar and I recognise the streets as being in Old Towne but I am just not convinced I am getting the best route for my money that I keep seeing ticking away on that damn machine. So I watch and I wait and I look at my watch and I grow concerned. As the familiar area of the metro comes into view he asks me if I want to go to the metro and I inform him yes, (BIG mistake) to the TRAIN. He pulls over, I give him a $20 and I get out of the cab - confused. I am at the Metro but it isn't the little old station I expect to see. I go in, look around and then ask the gentleman in the both where the train is as I need the VRE and he tells me left and left. Well left is out of the building and the other left is around the building and then there is a hill.
I live in South Carolina - not the upstate but the low country meaning below sea level meaning flat. Now I had put on a cute little traveling outfit so I would be properly dressed to meet my relatives and be ready for supper that evening. My new wedges were non-to-thrilled to see this incline. But we walked and then we ran as I, not the wedges, noticed the train was waiting, at the station. How was I going to make the train . . . . . I wasn't. Try as I may, that damn train left without me. So now I was out the extra money for a cab, the time for the next train to come and the extra stops it would take for the train to make. Great. (Note to self for future use . . . metro and train are different terms in DC)
Deep breath . . . . all was fine. I had a take-off and a landing (you want those to equal), I made it to the train that was shortly arriving, my wedges were in tact and I already had a handy ticket that my brother had purchased for me and mailed me so I was already to go. The train arrived - good heavens, could the step be any higher? I step up and pull up my suitcase, geese no one told me of the work out I was going to have. I step into the car and this is pretty nice. I set down my bag in a rack and take a seat where it is in my view and I settle. I settle for 2 stops and I am thinking - how am I on this train and no one ask me for a ticket? I mean this is a breeze - you can ride these things for free. So I sit and I start to watch a video on my ipod and before I know it there is the ticket guy.
Now I've seen my fair share of films, I know how this works, he looks at my ticket and he punches it and I go about my business. He asks for my ticket and I proudly hand it to him (thinking it's about time you show up you slacker) at which time he then informs me (mind you I am at the front of the car with all eyes toward me) that I need to validate the ticket. I am mortified - I did something wrong. I just look at him, is he going to throw me off?? Is the ticket no good? It had to be, it said VRE and 1 way and it looked like the right amount for a 1 way trip. I just kept looking at him with this blank stare to which he said next time validate and walked on. Oh thank god . . . I am not getting kicked off the train. But I have to admit I still have no idea how I was to validate that ticket. (note to self, learn how to validate VRE ticket in case you one day ride again)
I settled, again, into my ipod video when it hit me that I should maybe find out just where I was as far as stops. The train was slowing so I looked out the window and thankfully, thankfully I did because I was at my stop - Quantico Marine Base in Quantico, VA. Phew - I made it, in one piece, yes wedges were still in tact, to meet my brother, get in his 'beele and drive to his house.
I get off the train, another huge effort to do so, and walk over toward the parking lot. Of course my brother would be there. I texted him 4 times and even put on FB - Don't leave me stuck on a marine base!!!! So I walk and I look and I walk some more and I look and where is my brother - not at the train station, no, he's at the liquor store on base. Nice - my fear of being stranded at the train station a short reality while Shawn buys vodka. All I know is I wanted a swig pretty darn badly!
He showed, and me, my suitcase and my wedges took off to his house for what was a lovely occasion and visit.
And then I had to return home . . . . . . . . . . . .
At which time I had to travel by car in DC to a plane that took off late that arrived in Atlanta late causing me to run from Concourse C to A in 6 minutes to catch my flight to Charleston which meant in those damn wedges I ran and then I sweated to sit on less than a 30 minute flight that was not enough time to cool off before I stepped out into 100 degree weather and was barely able to walk to the car because my feet were in so much pain from running. But I made it, another take-off and landing and take-off and landing, I was still even and I was home.
And I am wearing flats from now on . . . . .
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