As of June 24, 2008, I am no longer posting to this blog. You can find me at my new cyberhome, "1,002 Words" or http://1002words.blogspot.com. If Friendster would let me embed video for free, I would stay. Alas. Thanks for visiting, and please come check me out at the new place.
Title is from the song "Closing Time" by Semisonic, but you knew that.
Monday, June 9, 2008 - around 3:00pm - somewhere under Arlington, Virginia
Just the other day, my roommate was talking about his daily trials and tribulations of taking the Metro every day to work and home. I said this was his fault for not being man enough to get a license (oh, and he has severe vertigo behind the wheel), and that in my moderate Metro use, I was talking with my friends Joel and Manuel and said I never encountered anything more than a delay of a few minutes. That changed Monday. I was on my way home from my volunteer gig at the Air & Space museum. Orange Line, just past Rosslyn, a mere three stops from home, lunch, and some much needed sleep. Then a very large squeal. It tore me away from the new (to me) Duffy song I really like. People in the train exchanged glances. "That wasn't right," said the look on most people's faces. The tourists didn't seem to mind at first. But the squealing got louder, even as the train slowed. We stopped for a minute. We tried to move again. Very loud squealing, acrid smell of something burning, and a thin veil of smoke filled the car. A semi-panicked voice over the intercom said, essentially, something's wrong, we don't know what, so we'll just sit here for a minute. I did the same thing the night my first car nearly exploded on the NJ Turnpike when I was 17. Looking at the car behind us (I was in the second car of the six-car train), you could see in the windows something right. A few minutes later, they confirmed that the third car of the train derailed.
Now, this wasn't some Hollywood-style derailment. People weren't screaming, fires weren't raging, and pieces of Metro car weren't flying through the tunnel in a Bruckheimer-style summer blockbuster thrilling explosion. It was a matter of inches, as the photo to the right shows. The cars became half-uncoupled, and the front wheel(s) of the third car jumped the track. But, if Thomas the Tank Engine has taught us anything (other than kids will watch just about anything no matter how intolerably boring it is), this is a big deal for trains. So the wait was on. The derailment happened around 2:45. The lights and, more importantly, the air conditioning went out a little after 3:00. About 3:30, Arlington County firefighters boarded the train to applause. Nothing was burning, no one was ailing, but they were there to save the day. Frankly, I was more excited that two just-off-duty Metro mechanics were on the train. I can use a fire extinguisher. They fix trains. I didn't want to go far from them. We eventually got moved onto a "rescue" train, and I ended up above ground around 4:20pm. It was definitely a long trip home. But there was no panic in our car, no concern. Maybe it's because we were still upright. Maybe it's because there was no fire, no one hurt, no huge rattle. Even the folks in the derailed car seemed to be enjoying the adventure more than anything else. It didn't look like this at all. Frankly, if someone had a bag of chips and a cooler full of beer, we would have likely stayed on the derailed train. Eventually, it would have reached a toasty temperature. But no worse than outside, which was somewhere around "surface of the sun" level of heat yesterday.
Because I am a news geek, I called work to give them a tip. I ended up getting a live interview on the 5pm show, and had some of my photos put on the news. Exciting times for me, especially since I make my living behind the cameras and I like it just fine there. I was even interviewed on my own show this morning, despite not really wanting to do it. My boss made me. At least I had a clean shirt on. I can't embed video here, so just click this link.
For now, I'll stick to driving. No one was hurt, and that's what matters. Those tourists from Australia and field trippers from Arlington Science will have quite a story to tell. And so will I.
Title of this post comes from the song "Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osbourne.
Saturday, March 8 & Sunday, March 9, 2008 - Houston and Austin, Texas
How's that for a staring contest: a giant head of Andrew Jackson? He may have been our biggest president, I'm not sure. It was one of several things I got to see earlier this month which changed by idea of Houston, Texas. My first adult experience with H-Town was not a good one. Having a day to kill before a wedding party, I decided to bum around. I asked any stranger I could find what I should do. What are the must sees in our country's fourth largest city? I was met with blank stares every time I asked this question. I was offered two suggestions: go see Minute Maid Park, which being a big baseball fan, I had already done; and to go the Galleria, which is a giant mall, I'm sure like any other mall in any other city in these United States. I ended up going to the Museum of Fine Arts of Houston, and wandering around some park as it was a cool Houston day in August with a high only around 95°. Even the bars in the downtown party district of Main Street seemed perpetually at 8:30pm - on the verge of bustling, but never quite making it there. Houston got a big thumbs down in my book, and I was happy to tell anyone who would listen that it left a lot to be desired, especially for a place that went out of its way to tell you it had the fourth largest population in the U.S. Yeah, you know what, so did St. Louis in 1904. It didn't work out awesomely for them.
So when I decided to go back to Houston to visit some friends, I really was biased. I figured we'd grab dinner, go to a generic bar, maybe stop at the Galleria, and then I would leave Houston with the same sense that it is a sprawling monster, consuming unincorporated communities as it goes. Instead, thanks to my tour guides, I got a new view of Houston. As one of my hosts so kindly informed me, Houston is the largest city without any zoning laws. So that means my hosts' nice little new Victorian style home sits across from a light industrial factory, down the street from some modest bungalows, and blocks from Spanish-style McMansions. Seeing this earlier, I thought this meant that a lot of Houston was run down with random nice spots. However, looking at it from a free-spirit, no-zoning rules kind of light, it seems better. I was helped by my guides, and a read of their coffee table book, Houston: It's Worth It. It showed me the city in a better light, of people who embrace its funkiness, multi-culturalness, randomness, and artsy side. Which I'm all for.
My tour guides were also good in showing me some of Houston's more artsy-funky side. The above picture of the giant Andrew Jackson is part of a art-industrial area with a guy who crafts giant busts of the Presidents, and then sends them around the world. I have to say, my inner dork came out and I was able to name a lot of the presidents. I also got to see the house pictured on the right, known as the Beer Can House. It's a house made out of beer cans, as the name implies (what - you thought it was made from puppy hair?). The front gate, walk, planters: everything is beer cans or labels. Awesome. And the best part is that it sits in the middle of a neighborhood of what appear to be upper-crust, gentrified homes in varying styles. There were people just cruising down the street to check it out. It's neat, and it's something I will tell people about (like you, dear reader) when I talk about Houston. My guides were nice enough to point it out, and back it up with the fact that Houston is one of those cities where "It's nice to live there, but I sure wouldn't want to visit there."
My travels then took me from Houston, west on Interstate 10 through the metropolis of Sealy, up Texas Route 71, past a lot of live oak trees, into Austin. I had never been to Austin as an adult, and I had a preconceived notion of it. It was a big college town with musicians on every corner and everyone was funky/weird/crunchy, overly Texan, and probably drinking constantly. I wasn't totally wrong, but my guides here showed me differently. It's a very respectable place with a fun side. It's still in touch with its more rural Texan roots, as indicated by my first night dinner at County Line BBQ. Mmm...tasty. As an aside, Texans love going out to eat. They apparently do it at least eight days a week. Which is why waits at restaurants generally eclipse an hour, and no one bats an eyelash. Weird. Anyway, we spent a night on Sixth Street, the party district of Austin. My friends gave me a great tour of bars, ranging from the trendy (Cuba Libre), the down home (Buffalo Billiards), and the fun (Pete's Dueling Piano Bar - the only bar I know with its own MySpace page). Quite a range, and quite a good time. These friends are good hosts, needless to say.
In taking a tour of Austin, I was surprised at the sprawling nature of it, even by Texas standards. But I was equally surprised by the beauty of the rolling Texas hills on the north and west side of Austin, made better by my hosts' Beamer and fun driving skills on the windy twists and turns of RM 2222. I was also surprised at the general suburban nature of some spots, seemingly pulled out of any part of America: nicely upper middle class and sprawling. However, I was on about the "keep Austin weird" vibe, which my friends helped express by taking me to some great locally owned places, like the aforementioned bars (although Buffalo Billiards is owned by the same people who own my local watering hole, Carpool), along with The Oasis and Chez Zee (which is not pronounced Cheesy, as I like to think).
Maybe both visits, both cities, and the impressions of both come from my hosts. The things I was showed are a big reflection of these great couples. I am indebted to them for their hospitality, and for showing me two cities I wouldn't mind seeing again. So if you're in Houston, be sure to look up Marcy and Jarrod. When traveling through Austin, give Sherri and Andrew a call. And be sure to buy them a beer.
Leftover pictures from Texas:
1. An artsy look at the beer can house in Houston.
2. More giant President heads, along with the Beatles in the background, and downtown Houston way off in the distance.
3. My Austin hosts, quite possibly the cutest couple ever, and only borderline vomit-inducing.
4. Your author, standing by the banks of the Colorado River. Downtown Austin in the background. On the far left is the Frost Bank Tower, which I enjoyed.
Title is from the song "42 Miles" by Cross Canadian Ragweed.
Sunday, February 17, 2008 - 2:15pm - West Alexander, Pennsylvania
Sammy Hagar said it best, and how often does someone say that? I can't drive 55. Apparently, I can't drive 65. Or 75. 80, that I can do. Sadly, my friends and yours in the fine state of Ohio don't want me to do that.
I took this picture right on the West Virginia/Pennsylvania border, along Interstate 70. Technically, my car is back in Valley Grove, West Virginia while I and the speed limit sign are in West Alexander, PA. You can see the "Welcome to Pennsylvania" sign right there between the posts, as the SUV goes by on eastbound 70. Yes, I intended the picture to be done like that.
It took about 45 minutes of driving for me to finally get over the speeding ticket I picked up in St. Clairsville, Ohio. I was rocking out to some music (it wasn't the new EP I got from A-Dog's brother's band Goodnight Sunrise, but they're worth checking out regardless - I like "Routine and Dollar Signs (acoustic remix)" myself) and just getting into the second hour of the six hour drive back to Virginia from Columbus. I was full of Steak & Shake. I was "making good time," as my grandmother is known to say, which is really just a euphemism for speeding horribly, but in a socially acceptable manner. My "good time" was around 80 mph in a 65 zone. As I zoomed along eastbound 70, I saw one of Ohio's finest state troopers on the opposite side near a turnaround. Upon seeing him, after the expletives, I said, "If I were him, I would pull me over." And he didn't disappoint.
Really, my interaction with the trooper was pleasant as these things go. He asked me where I was coming from (half-brother's wedding), where I was going (Nearlington), and if I knew why he pulled me over - one of the best non-relationship trick questions outside of the job interview trap of "What is your biggest weakness?" When I didn't quickly admit I was sure that he pulled me over for the kilos of coke, high-powered weapons, and sixteen Mexican illegals I had in my trunk (with the
spare tire AND jumper cables - Saturns have lots of space), he filled in the answer for me saying I was going "a little fast." Usually, 15 over the limit is more than "a little." But who was I to disagree with Trooper Buckeye? He took my license, registration, and proof of insurance (I, at first, gave him an expired copy...that would have ended poorly), went back to his patrol car, made sure I wasn't Osama Bin Laden or a wanted felon. The whole process took about ten minutes. He handed me a blue ticket, a yellow payment instruction, and wished me happy trails. Because the man is just doing his job, I wished him a safe day. I made sure to drive the speed limit for the remaining ten miles or so I had in Ohio. Then once the 70 mph signs popped up just east of Wheeling, I was back up to the +10 speed limit. I still made the 400 mile trip in just over six hours. Can't complain. Upon closer examination, I was impressed with Ohio's traffic ticket. It included road conditions, traffic conditions, the exact spot of my infraction, omits my weight, called me white, and even said I was only going 78. Nice guy. The only problem is I have to pay by certified check or money order. Now really. That seems excessive. But, then again, so was my speed.
Getting caught for speeding bothers me for a lot of reasons. It makes me feel stupid. I have no one but myself to blame. I feel like I lost the game with the law. And mostly because everyone around me is doing it too and I'm the one who got caught. I don't mind the officers - they're just doing their jobs, protecting the public, and above all, making some cash for the city/county/state. The worst part is if/when your insurance catches up with you. That's the real pain in the tailpipe.
I really wish there was more flexibility in the speed limit. On this particular stretch of Interstate 70 in Belmont County, Ohio, there was little to no traffic. The road was dry. The sky was cloudy. I was operating a safe vehicle. The interstate is built for you to safely go about 100 when conditions permit. So why can't I? I realize you have to set the speed limit artificially low knowing that everyone will go over it. But why 65? How come when I cross the mythical state line into Ohio County, WV, I can go 70 on the exact same road. Yet when I cross the line again into Pennsylvania, it's only safe to go 65? I'm not saying the law should let us drive 95 on the Beltway in the middle of rush hour. But on a rural interstate, 80 (ahem, 78) isn't unsafe. The worst thing I'm doing is burning up gas higher than I could otherwise (but, somehow, my car still gets 35 mpg on long road trips). West Texas has at least one thing right in that the limit is 80, and I doubt they even enforce it so long as you stay in double-digits. And if I ever see that "Speed Limit 80" sign, you can be sure you'll see it here.
Don't even get me started on the dumb speed cameras Montgomery County installed. I don't mind the red-light cameras. But as Marezy Dotes once put it, "I mind the speed cams because I speed." Well put. Enforce laws I don't break. That's easier for me.
Title is from the song "Open Road Song" by Eve 6.
Thursday, February 7, 2008 - 2:45pm - Arlington, VA
After years of living in primary states that never mattered at all (Maryland '96, Massachusetts '00, Missouri '04), suddenly my home is worth something politically in primary land. The Potomac / Chesapeake / DVM Primary is a mere days away. With Super Tuesday deciding nothing, Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama are descending on the region and campaigning their little hearts out for our votes. Of course, with Mitt Romney leaving the campaign trail, and there being a big lack of Evangelical Christians in Arlington, I don't expect to see any Republicans nearby.
My little street's peaceful afternoon was shattered by the Clinton campaign. When I came home this morning around 9, my street already had television microwave and satellite trucks parked near the high school which is hosting the event. I'm proud to say, a WUSA9 truck was nowhere to be found. We're a steel trap like that. When I poked my head back outside around 2:30pm, the street was a much different place. Cars were lined up and down 13th Street, as well as 14th and Nelson. The police had most of the area blocked off. I think the senator was still a good half hour away from this pep rally. But man, there were plenty of people flooding down my street on a brisk February day to go to the gymnasium of a school that's about to be torn down. And, of course, they were all illegally parked in my permit zone. I don't know why the Arlington police weren't ticketing them. I'm talking big bucks for the county.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Clinton would draw such a crowd. She's a former first lady, fairly respected U.S. senator from a populous state, and has a realistic chance to become the first female president. I mean, at it's core, it's 1-in-3 right now. I guess what I don't understand is the passion. I don't understand what's keeping these people - who, in theory, have jobs or lives or something that they normally do during the day - in line for over an hour to go through a security check to see something in person they could have seen on TV at home. Yes, I get the concept of seeing someone/something in person, especially something/someone that is historic. This is coming from someone who religiously attends Marlins-Nationals games in 90° weather. And I know this is Washington DC, where a great slow-night conversation starter is "I hate/love President Bush."
Maybe it's political passion that I don't quite understand. I pass this car on the right nearly every day along 14th Street North. I haven't noticed it in the 2+ years I've lived here. However, as soon as those Obama plates went on, I noticed it. I see it every day. I'm pretty sure those plates came along before the Iowa Caucus. That's passion. Here's long-term (well, a year at least) support for a guy who most people pegged for a graceful but quick exit from the national political scene in '08. In our car-loving culture, getting vanity plates to profess your love for something is a big commitment. Like one towards a vacation spot or sports team. I don't understand the passion towards a politician. Towards Democracy and Liberty and the Constitution and all that - yes, I get it. But to one man or woman? No. Sports teams and barrier islands, yes. A politician? No.
Maybe it's because with a politician, so much can change in a heartbeat, or at least an election. I still see Gore/Lieberman stickers around. Kerry/Edwards stickers are a dime a dozen. And I know people who have Bush/Cheney stickers on their cars, and while not leaving the Republican party anytime soon, they would rather have their bumper lopped off in a freak accident than keep that sticker there another day. While that McCain or Obama or Clinton or Paul or Giuliani or Gravel sticker looks good today, next month it might just remind the world that you're a loser and backed the wrong horse. And like most political-minded people, you've gotten behind another horse instead for now...hopefully one that won't take a crap on you. Like those people with the "W" stickers they've started to scratch off.
Title is from the song "In a Big Country" by Big Country. It really may be one of the best and most underrated songs of the '80s.
So if once upon a time you read this blog and enjoyed its bi-weekly posts, well clearly you've been let down for a while. After taking the squirrel picture seen below, I went to San Francisco for a week. I had all these plans to photoblog about that when I came back, and I never got around to it. I think I was still hungover. And then you know how inertia is - you just start not doing something, and it becomes easier and easier to not do. Does that make any sense? Anyways, I'm back with a quick recap of my summer. It's sort of a homework assignment: What I did this summer, by Danny G. Enjoy.
"When the Lights Go Down In the City" - San Francisco, June '07
Steve and I took a trip to California. That's what I told people, because to say we went to San Francisco was just too gay. We did go to Oakland and Berkely, to be fair, and my flight stopped in Los Angeles. So that counts. While we had plenty of good times, I think the trip to Alcatraz was the most fun. This was my third trip to The Rock, and it really is awesome. The tower shot to the left there is the guard tower, which looked striking against the late afternoon, partly cloudy sky. We took the audio tour, which makes the place sound really quiet with people shuffling about in silence. The best part of the tour was when we left it, and started walking around on our own. While it was amazingly cold, the views of the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the San Francisco skyline were amazing. Definitely worth walking off the tour. We also ran into some birds which were kind of pissy. Like they were too good to be birds or something.
Seen below:
1) View of the Golden Gate Bridge from Alcatraz. Big thanks to Amish Matt for all his tourguiding in general, but especially for taking us over the bridge and to Sausalito. Good times.
2) The view of San Francisco's skyline from Alcatraz. I like the part of the tour which says when the wind carried the sound right, you could hear the sounds of the city in the prison. Which made life for prisoners that much tougher: freedom was so close.
3) Riding cable cars is way too much fun. You couldn't build these things today. Too many ADA rules and safety rules. But they rock. Definitely worth the transit pass we bought to ride them as often as we wanted.
4) While I nearly froze to death sitting by an exit row on the flight home, and the woman next to me appeared to be watching some kind of Greek soft core porn, this was my view out the window. It was cool.
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"She's Got Legs... She Knows How to Use Them" - RFK Stadium, June 24
So I went to the Nationals/Indians game this Sunday. I decided I wanted to go early to see batting practice. As I walked into the stadium, I remembered that when teams play a day game after a night game, they don't do batting practice. Which bit. But I had a good time taking pictures of the Indians and Nats as they walked up and down the right field line. But the best part was the Cleveland fan pictured here. What's that in her hand, you ask? It's a prosthetic leg. And it's not hers. It's her son's. She made her young son - he was maybe 8 or 9 - take his leg off in public and she tried to get it autographed. So long as I live, I will always get a smile and a laugh when I think of her yelling, in that darling Northeast Ohio accent, "Hey Sizemore! Sign my son's leg! Hey Hafner! Sign my son's leg!" Standing next to her, I tried to distance myself from this insanity, while still getting a picture. The players looked aghast at her. No one signed the leg. Poor kid.
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"The Boys Are Back In Town" - Chicago, IL - July 27-29
The 4Guys reunited for LouRob's bachelor party. We opted for Chicago, as we always have fun there and we always have good weather and, well, it was easiest for everyone. The trip was awesome. It wasn't a "traditional" bachelor party, although no one seems to have those anymore. Usually, when a dude is on the verge of marriage, he's seen plenty of adult material and he doesn't need to be taken to the strip club for one more fling. Instead, it's turned into a weekend with the boys, playing golf or going to the casino or just sitting around playing cards and drinking beer, which is what we did. Of course, I tried to get Lou to go "see some boobies," as Steve put it, but he wasn't game. Hey, it's his party. Seen below:
1. The Bean. I love it. It's an amazing chrome, stainless steel, warped piece of public art in Chicago's Millennium Park. It is simply beautiful and oddly attractive. It almost looked better with the hazy grey sky.
2. Clipper Ship on Lake Michigan. We took a lake boat tour, and we happened to pass by this tall ship. It was really cool. Every time I go to Chicago, I see amazing boats on the waterfront. This photo is also noteworthy, because it got me posted on the Chicagoist blog. I'm still waiting for DCist to pick me up. Bastards.
3. There's a Frank Gehry inspired bridge over Lake Shore Drive, right by Millennium Park. It's this weird stainless steel bridge with shingles that just suck you right in. The whole area is Gehry, with the amazing ampitheatre, all flowing well into The Bean. Chicago does such amazing stuff with its public spaces.
4. Hancock Tower in the Haze. Caught this one at the end of the boat tour, as we pulled back to Navy Pier. It was just a breathtaking shot. The low flying cloud really was indicative of the entire weekend's weather. I think I was cold and sweating the whole time, but not in the bad malaria way.
5. Jon is funny.
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"Then I Go Outside to Join the Others. I Am the Others." - Random Assortment
1. I was walking out of work one day, just happened to have my camera, and caught this shot of Broadcast House. It just looked like a cool shot, with the building reflecting upon itself. I liked it.
2. I started volunteering at the National Air & Space Museum on the National Mall. It's a lot of fun for four hours every Monday, even if the people I work with can be a little kooky. Kooky in a good way, I mean. I'm also trying to learn to say "I don't speak X language" is as many languages as possible. Je ne parle pas francais.
3 & 4. After a gut-busting Long Island wedding, I traveled to Boston via the Orient Point-New London ferry. It really beat sitting in the car for an hour, and was worth every penny. The view was beautiful, the sea air amazing. I am still thankful to those Harley riders who moved their bikes around so I could get my car on board. Did you know you have to make reservations for this thing? Bah. I like this shot from the top deck because it looks like all the cars are going to fall off. And the second shot is from one of the Orient Point lighthouses.
Title is from the song "Vacation" by The Go-Gos. In order, the subtitles are from "Lights" by Journey, "Legs" by ZZTop, "The Boys are Back In Town" by Thin Lizzy, and "As Cool As I Am" by Dar Williams.
Sunday, June 3 - 10:30am - Outside my bedroom window, Arlington VA
So I'm in a Sunday morning slumber. Last I checked, the clock said 7:45am (it was 10:30 by this point), and I think I'm in for a well deserved snooze before my routine Sunday bagel and coffee with the Sunday paper (yes, I am 73 years old). I'm lying there, in that extremely pleasant state between sleep and wake. Scratch scratch scratch. The rain is lightly falling on the trees behind my apartment. Scratch scratch scratch. I'm suddenly awake. What is that? Scratch scratch scratch. I look out the window next to my bed to see the squirrel above just hanging out on my window ledge. I guess it's a rough life being a squirrel, dealing with all those other squirrels, on a never ending quest for nuts, always looking wired, and going through life running from cars. I think squirrels are cute, while others say they are just rats with bushy tails and better PR. This guy above has been my squirrel friend, hanging out by clawing on to my window or sitting on the ledge. I'm not sure if he's the same one who keeps reappearing, but I like to think so. If I knew what squirrels ate (well, what I have in my home which squirrels eat), I would leave him some. He didn't like posing for pictures - I just got a few before he bolted off back to Squirrelland, but I think he was smiling.
Below, you'll find a night-time picture of the Lincoln Memorial. Shots like this, and having the Memorial to yourself (minus the couple going at it hot and heavy by the reflecting pool), are the few advantages to heading to work at 4am on a Saturday.
Title is from the song "Sunday Morning" by Maroon 5. The CD version is better than the one played on the radio. I don't know why, just opinion/fact.
Saturday, May 12 - 4:00pm - Reagan National Airport, Arlington VA
So I had to go to the airport today to pick up a ticket. These are the hassles which come with utilizing a ticket voucher for someone else. I went to the United counter, just as 90 5th graders on a trip to DC from Denver were getting ready to check in. The frustrated people behind the counter suggested I come back in a few minutes if that was okay. I gladly obliged.
It's funny to have time in the airport to kill, and not be frustrated because you're delayed or eagerly awaiting picking up someone. I've written before about my love of airports and their people. I never really had a chance to wonder around National. The B/C terminal is amazing. Opened in 1997, it's a piece of modern architectural genius, while also having Jeffersonian touches. There are mosaics on the floor and windows (seen above), and amazing open spaces. Oh, and the control tower looks like it's flipping off the city. But if walk towards the A Terminal, you find the original National. It's a huge open room with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on the runway. It has beautiful, intricate stonework, and some neat art deco touches like the "Passengers Only" sign above. It was on a door, and for a simple handle on a door, it quickly reminded you of a time when travel was regal and formal. As Sideshow Bob put it, "back before Joe Sweatsock could wedge himself behind a lunch tray and jet off to Raleigh-Durham." By the time I got back to the counter, the kiddies were gone and the United people were happy to help me. But I was glad I had time to kill, and the minor hassle was worth flying for free!
Title is from the song "Watching the World Go By," composed by Cole Porter
Saturday, May 5, 2007 - 11:00am - National Cathedral, NW Washington DC
The Washington National Cathedral is an unassuming building, as cathedrals go. It's in a residential section of Northwest Washington. It's not near the Metro. It's not a tourist site, really, unless you go looking for it. Yet it is, elevation wise, the tallest building in Washington and a pretty impressive piece of cathedral architecture, if you ignore everything in Europe. A few times a year, the cathedral lets you climb up to the Bell Tower, which is the highest point open to the public. I got some tickets, and invited Meredith to go along with me. She's a lifelong Washingtonian, and I thought she'd enjoy the view (which she did).
The climb to the top is best described as dizzying. They start you off in the crypt, just so you get the thrill of climbing every inch to the bell tower. There are several narrow staircases - each one more narrow than the other. Most of the way up is a spiral stone staircase, which is like a giant concrete tomb in which to climb up. Good times, good times. Then you get into a few open areas - essentially the attic of the Cathedral - and you start climbing up a few metal spiral staircases. It was dizzying to look up, dizzying to look down, so it was just best to stare straight ahead. Like my younger days in climbing up and down Barnegat Light, going up was much easier than going down. There were some giant bells in the Bell Tower, oddly enough, and I'll just say they were big. The top room was the bell room itself, where people were ringing bells by pulling on these purple cords.
I really wasn't interested in that. I wanted to see the view. There were these precarious ledges you were allowed to climb out on (yes, that sentence just ended in two prepositions). The view, needless to say, was amazing. Sure, it was a cloudy day across the DC area. But you could see from the Cathedral all the way out to Sugarloaf Mountain in outer Montgomery County, Andrews Air Force Base in Prince George's County, and Old Town Alexandria. I think I could even see my house. The views were awesome, even if you did have to hold your breath to lean over the ledge. Yes, it would have been nice if the day were sunnier. And yes, because the Cathedral is near nothing and DC doesn't have that many tall buildings, you couldn't peer onto The Mall or into the Pentagon. Still, the view was incredible and a rare glimpse of the Nation's Capital from its highest point.
Below are some pictures I like from the day.
1) Meredith & I on the ledge outside the Bell Tower. Taken by some nice lady.
2) This is a great shot by Meredith of the huge stained glass window, framed incredibly well by some of the stone work in one of the Cathedral's balconies. I took about 20 shots like this, but Meredith's is head and shoulders above any I took. Way to go.
3) This is a close-up of a stained-glass window. I think it might be my favorite shot from the whole day, just because the colors are so bold. The Cathedral is worth checking out just for the stained-glass windows. I'm a fan of those. Even the crummy painted-on ones I grew up with at St. Andrew's.
4) This is what an out-of-focus Arlington looks like from the Cathedral. I live near the building with the pointy top.
5) Caught this piece in a stained glass window on the way up. It's some dude falling. Not exactly what you want to see while climbing 300 feet. I'm sure it's some Biblical story, but I have no clue what it is.
Title is from the song "Top of the World" by The Carpenters, which I only know because Sideshow Cecil sang it just before he tried to blow up the Springfield Dam.
Saturday, April 21 - 4:30pm - Lincoln Memorial, Korean Memorial, Washington Monument, and Lady Bird Johnson Park - Washington, DC
I remember back in high school when I took 9th grade photography class. Probably the best elective I ever took in all my schooling, and I wasted it when I was 14. Oh well. I do remember the time I spilled a whole bunch of fixer on myself, then passed out in second period because of the fumes. Well, honestly, I don't remember a lot of that. It's hazy.
Anyways, one of the lessons I remember from that class was repetition. Parallel lines, repeating elements, things like that all make good photos. Draws in the viewer's eye and stuff. So I decided to take a few photos like that while walking around the Mall Saturday. Tell me what you think. First come the explanations, then come the photos. Enjoy.
1. A Whole Mess of Tulips at Lady Bird Johnson Park - I actually walked past this flowerbed twice before walking back to take a photo. All of the tulips looked huge, the flowers were wide open, and they were all pointed right at the sun. It looked pretty cool. I took a few shots, but I like this (slightly cropped) one the best as the flowers fill the whole frame. The big green patch in the center isn't so hot, but I didn't want to touch the flowers. They're on federal property, you know.
2. The Back of the Lincoln Memorial - sometimes you can walk on the backside of the Lincoln, sometimes you can't. It probably has to do with the amount of park police around. I thought the shadows of the columns were interesting on this one, and how they cast repetitive shadows on the already repetitive wall. I turned this one to black and white because I thought it looked classier that way.
3 & 4. Half-Staff Flags at the Washington Monument - the flags were at half-staff for the Virginia Tech shooting. As soon as I heard about the flags going down through Sunday, I wanted to get a picture from the Monument as you have a slew of flags there and it just looks more...I dunno...impactful? I know that's not a word. The first picture is from the west side, and you can see the Lincoln Memorial in the distance. See how the flags move down from top left, drawing the eye? The second is from the east side, looking at the Capitol. I like how you can see the shadow of a flag in the foreground. I don't like that doofus in the orange shirt who wouldn't get out of my way.
5. Washington Monument and the Crescent Moon - That freaking monument makes any normal blue sky look awesome. If you look closely, you'll see a sliver of moon. Again, repetitiveness of the bricks, heading up the picture and away from the viewer.
6. Kids at the Korean War Memorial - Okay, this has nothing to do with repetition. I just happened to catch these kids before they got yelled at by their parents. And I really like taking pictures with reflections. Just looks cool.
The title is from the song "Come Down" by Toad the Wet Sprocket.
