Boggles the mind, doesn't it?

We woke up at about eight and went for a run.  The dreary rain had halted for a moment, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity.  I expressed to D that the one thing I really regretted from my last time in DC was not running.  I never had an opportunity then, so we made one now.

We started out at our hotel and headed up to Embassy Row, Dupont Circle, and back down part of the Row.  It was a brisk two miles, only halted by stop-lights and solid photo opportunities.   D set a blazing pace initially and I was mighty thankful for those red lights.

D:  Buddha! Me: ...... Or Mahatma Gandhi.

This guy made me sad until I saw his book and then I loved him.

Japanese.

After two miles, we decided to walk through the Farmer's Market (totally kicks Savannah's ass) and get breakfast at Le Pain Quotidien.  D ordered steel cut oatmeal with bananas and a coffee and I ordered some fancy chai tea and more French toast.  Le pain perdu, je pense?  Anyways, I asked the dude for some syrup for my French toast and he told me, with loads of condescension, that it had agave syrup already on it.  I only note this because it was the first time that anyone in DC was even the slightest bit rude to me.  And the dude was right - it was sweet enough.  I still wanted to go on a rant that we Southerners like to drench our food in whatever is available prior to chewing.  (Examples:  gravy, butter, syrup, ketchup, mayo, melted cheese, etc.)

Fancy.

As we walked back to the hotel, it started raining again.  Figures.  We cleaned up, packed up, left our stuff at the front desk and proceeded to walk some more.  I don't remember exactly how it came about, but I was telling him about an umbrella that the KGB used to shoot someone with a tiny bullet coated in poison.  Evidently, he had been sitting right next to me when I watched this special and we decided to go to the Spy Museum to see it.

D wanted to go inside.  I said we'd burn alive.

We signed up for "Operation Spy", where we had to figure stuff out.  I'll be honest.  I didn't love it.  Would it be fun with kids?  Totally.  But it was a random assortment of families and we were all out to make sure that we each had the most fun.  The end didn't make sense and I really wish that it was something D and I could have done together, alone, rather than in a group setting.  Old introvert rears her head.

After the game, we walked the Museum and just absorbed stuff.  I think everyone else had the same idea, though, because the place was packed.  Damn you, shut down.

No idea.  Why not?

We stopped for a late lunch in a little fast food Indian place, Merzi.  It was amazing.

D walked right by this saying, "There's supposed to be an arch somewhere!"

Another walk, another shuttle, another walk, and we were finally ready for our first flight home.  We get in the air, a noxious odor hits the cabin and the flight attendants start scrambling.  D and I had a brief moment of looking at each other.  Later the attendants apologized for having alarmed us, but had checked everything they could check (worded just like that), and felt we were still safe to continue our flight.

The scary flights continued with our second flight, from Atlanta to Savannah.  There was a delay and as we boarded, the mechanic exited while holding a huge manual.  Nothing instills confidence in machinery like a mechanic with a manual.  A few rattles and a jarring landing, and we were finally home.