Once Upon a Time in DC: Chapter Three
[CHAPTER ONE]
[CHAPTER TWO]
“Vivian! Hey – perfect timing!”
“Hey gals, what’s shaking?”
Hugs.
“Ready to check out some Dada?”
“Oh yeah!”
I was pleasantly surprised to learn that all museums in DC are free. I thought it was a trick, but Vivian assured me that we would not be tackled as we walked up the stairs to the exhibit. As we headed into the exhibit, there was a crowd of people reading the description on the wall. I stopped to read it, but noticed Vivian and Dee-Dee walking ahead.
“Pshht. Reading is for suckers,” Vivian said, and stormed through the crowd.
The exhibit was packed with art lovers and haters alike. As we walked into a room with a sculpture of a pig-headed man in a Nazi uniform hanging from the ceiling, I heard a man say to his wife, “I hate this. I absolutely hate this. You know I hate this kind of thing. I’m leaving.”
She told him that she had read that the Dadaists wanted their art to make people uncomfortable. She said it would be over soon, and that he should just wait in the lobby. And then I saw a confused looking young boy – about five years old – scanning the crowds as he held onto his mother’s purse. I heard him say softly, several times, “Where’s Dada?”
After the exhibit, which we all agreed was amazing, we cleaned out the gift shop and then headed out. On our way to the Washington Monument, we decided that our desire for culture had not yet been sated, so we strolled through the sculpture garden. In it, we saw some sculptures.
And some more sculptures.
And some more sculptures.
And then we asked ourselves some hard-hitting questions.
Finally, being in our nation’s Capitol filled Vivian with all sorts of activist energy, so we went out in search of a peace rally. Fortunately, they are plentiful in Washington. Unfortunately, however, we stumbled across the saddest, most unorganized peace rally in the entire city. Our peace rally consisted of three hippies standing in the empty fountain in Dupont Circle, one man with a microphone, and another man in a wheelchair carrying a sign that said, “Make levees, not war.” Vivian bought a purple peace sign button from a man in tie dye for $1 and we headed back to our hotel.
After unsuccessfully attempting to replicate Baby G.’s whore eyes, the three of us hopped in a cab to meet up with our group at a Mediterranean tapas-style restaurant. Fortunately, in between the peace rally and whore eyes, we had stopped for pizza, because when we arrived at the restaurant, we were told it would take two hours to get seated.
There was wine and there were desserts, and everything in between tasted like goat cheese. And I mean that in the absolute best possible way.
After dinner, our numbers again dwindled. What once was twelve suddenly became four. But like any good general, Dr. Greene led the charge to continue hitting it and hitting it hard in DC. So he, Dee-Dee, Vivian and I stumbled off to a pool hall where we met up with some friends of his. I’m pretty sure that Dee, Viv and I won every game of pool, but only because Dr. Greene’s two friends kept disappearing at the bar.
Eventually, the smoke and beer and tapas got the best of us, so we decided to head home. Dr. Greene drove off with his pals, and the ladies and I shuffled back to the hotel. After the previous evening’s discovery, I warned Vivian that I apparently suffered from night terrors. According to all reports, I had punched Dee in the face the night before, so I tried to be extra careful about not moving around too much, as is my tendency.
This proved a fatal error, because Vivian, perhaps dreaming of skydiving, occupied the bed in such a dramatic spread eagle fashion that it took all my strength to hold myself on the edge of the bed. My body was contorted like an origami frog onto the tiniest plot of mattress – trapped in an isosceles triangle of pain formed by Viv’s arm, leg, and the edge of the bed.
I woke up unable to turn my head more than two inches in either direction. “Dang, Viv. Do you think you could take up any more of the bed? Sheesh.”
“Yeah, you really did take up the whole bed. At one point I looked over and Jenny’s body was shaking to try to keep from falling.”
“I can’t help it! I’m a big girl!”
“Oh yeah? Well then big girl buys breakfast!”
And off we went.
[Stay tuned for the highly overrated conclusion…]
Filed under: General on March 23rd, 2006
March 22nd, 2006 at 10:21 pm
Last night, after all the fallingasleep drama of the week my BF accidentally kicked me in the shin when getting into bed (which was like, two hours after I went to bed which never happens cause I stay up absurdly late). Anyway…. I had very sore shins from running 11 miles earlier that day and I hollered and cursed at him then told him if he didnt allow me to splay like a starfish I was leaving to sleep on the couch. I didnt remember the exchange too well considering I was all doped up but I imagine our night was similar to your diagram above.
Despite the drug hammer I still woke up all through the night, but then my sleep talking/singing was not like a half-asleep insomniac like it normally is, it was all slurry and doped up. Hmm. Anyway, my point is….
March 22nd, 2006 at 10:22 pm
…nice art pose.
March 22nd, 2006 at 10:58 pm
first of all, that is NOT at all what i thought dada was… but of course who am i to question those that are smarter than i (i.e. wikipedia)? ha!
i miss the museums of chicago (or for that matter nyc) where admission is a “donation” and you can actually choose how much you want to contribute (bet some of you didnt know that). if you’re only going in for a quick perusal, or simply to see one painting… why PAY full price?
unfortunately the admission in boston is actually an admission, a travesty that has prompted me to sign up as a card carrying member of the MFA.
maybe ill finally learn what dada is. ha!
i love dc’s museums, but sometimes art on the street is the most fun to check out.
cheers
hooizz
March 22nd, 2006 at 11:29 pm
I love how even your stick figure has curly hair….if I didn’t adore you already, that illustration alone would do it.
P.S. – St. Louis museums are ALSO free – come visit me on your 36th!
March 23rd, 2006 at 12:43 am
Ooh, ooh, ooh..so did you buy breakfast??
Don’t leave us hanging!!
March 23rd, 2006 at 7:39 am
You are lucky. Not only did I force my sister to ponder the hard-hitting question–“whatever happened to polio?”–I also dragged her through the entire exhibit. And let me tell you–if you didn’t go, you missed out. You get to put your arm in a fake iron lung. Who doesn’t want to do that???
March 23rd, 2006 at 8:21 am
Hee. Love the illustration.
In our house, we call that “starfish-ing”, for obvious reasons. And it’s very much verboten, unless the starfish in question acts pitiful enough for me to drop the subject. Oh, wait, did I just give away the identity of the true starfish in my house?
Great DC trip recaps, Jen. Loving this.
March 23rd, 2006 at 9:34 am
I thought this was the quote of the day:
“‘Pshht. Reading is for suckers.'”
And then I read this:
“My body was contorted like an origami frog onto the tiniest plot of mattress — trapped in an isosceles triangle of pain formed by Viv’s arm, leg, and the edge of the bed.”
The Greedo magic has brought out the funny.
March 23rd, 2006 at 9:49 am
asia: you sing in your sleep? COOL!
hooizz: actually, we’d all be wise to question wikipedia, since it’s pretty much a free-for-all and anyone can post an entry. Yeah, I like the voluntary donation thing, but I usually feel guilty if I give less than the suggested donation. I’m a sucker.
jess: can I go up into the arch for free? if so, then count me in for 36!
THB: i could tell you, but then that would essentially be my entire post for tomorrow…
bette: cool! We didn’t go inside, but I would’ve loved to have shoved my arm into a fake iron lung! Who wouldn’t, indeed?
mike: starfishing, eh? That’s a perfect term! Starfish need bigger beds.
sween: I think Greedo brings out the best in all of us. All we are saying, is give Greedo a chance.
March 23rd, 2006 at 10:52 am
Dear Jenny,
I am horrified that you posted that Polio photo. I want your readers to understand I was not making fun of Polio, but the giant question about Polio on the banner. Which seemed really funny. Secondly I am horrified by your “illustration” of my bed occupation. While I appreciate your wanting to exaggerate situations for dramatic effect, I don’t appreciate your doing it at my expense. I am not that big in bed. But I do love the hairdo you gave me and am hopeful that when I bring this “illustration” to a salon, they might be able to replicate it.
Love,
Vivian
March 23rd, 2006 at 11:43 am
At least when you share a bed with a friend there isn’t this unspoken expectation that you wrap yourself around the other person. Which is more comfortable, keeping to your wee little corner or thinking all night what to do with that arm that is always in the way?
March 23rd, 2006 at 12:30 pm
That illustration would be the major reason that I refuse to sleep in the same bed with ANYONE who doesn’t have four legs and fur, and even then, I’m picky. If I ever get married, my bed is going to have to be either HUGE or have the wall O’ Jericho.
Everything IS better with Greedo, isn’t it?
March 23rd, 2006 at 2:50 pm
Viv: If you weren’t making fun of it, then why did you keep telling polio knock-knock jokes all weekend long? Fine. So maybe I staged a few photos. Sue me. And there’s no need to be horrified by that illustration. Really – you and Dee-Dee are the only people who read my blog. I just make up fake names for the other commentators to make you guys think I’m popular.
Nina: Yeah, I’m a big fan of the Ozzie and Harriet separate twin bed style of cohabitation. Sometimes you push ‘em together, sometimes you don’t.
Tracy Lynn: I might someday design a bedroom that is just one huge bed, no floor. Finding sheets will be a challenge, but no one will be in my space.
March 23rd, 2006 at 7:24 pm
Vivian, forgive me addressing you directly, seeing that we’ve never been properly introduced what with Jenny just making up my name so you’ll think she’s popular and all, but weren’t you being just a little irreverent about the whole polio thing?
March 24th, 2006 at 1:18 am
Jen, just got in from our evening out – so fun!
Wanted to tell you that, YES, you can go up into the arch for free (’cause I’ll totally pay your way to get you to my city). See you March 18, 2007!!!
March 24th, 2006 at 1:33 am
Bring ON the overrated conclusion! I’m hoping it’ll give me a preview of TequilaCon.
March 24th, 2006 at 1:40 am
Shari: Vivian is like The Great Oz – no one can address her directly. I use an intern as a go-between when I communicate with her.
Jess: SWEET! Wait… why am I still up? Why are you still up? It’s a school night!
Sandra: Um… can it wait ’til Monday? I was out way too late eating, drinking, and being merry w/ a bad influence blogger.
March 24th, 2006 at 9:11 am
Dear Shari,
(Yes Jenny I’m pulling back the current momentarily.) I had no idea that banner was behind me. Jenny had asked me what I wanted for lunch and then took a picture when I said, Duuuuuuuh, I don’t know. The I turned around and saw the banner.
Actually that’s a pack of lies. The “Polio” font and its largess seemed oddly humorous at the time.
I know. I may be going to hell. But at least Jenny will be with me.
Love,
Vivian
March 24th, 2006 at 10:28 am
i love how you tell a story.
March 24th, 2006 at 3:31 pm
Viv: wait a minute… why am I going to hell now? You’re the one laughing! I just tried to take a nice photo of DC. You’re on your own, sister.
Sizz: **blush**
March 24th, 2006 at 6:39 pm
Vivian, your honor is acceptably defended. I grant you absolution.
Jenny, since Vivian has, y’know, talked to me and stuff, can I be real now? I mean, the whole being conjured as proof of popularity has much to recommend it, and I’m grateful that of all the imaginary friends you could have created, you chose me… but I’m tired of the pretense.
March 24th, 2006 at 7:04 pm
Dear Shari,
Thank you. I don’t know who you are, but your granting me absolution means the world to me.
Love,
Vivian
March 24th, 2006 at 8:29 pm
Oh man… I haven’t read your blog in a while. I forgot how much you crack me up! Dang. You are a hoot. I have a friend that I won’t sleep in the same bed with anymore, because he sleeps in this weird pose like the Heisman trophy. Seriously. Anyhew, happy birthday, sweetheart! I just got a new whip, so I’m thinking a roadtrip to the city is in order. I’ll keep you posted, baby!
March 25th, 2006 at 3:05 pm
Shari: [sigh] Fine. You’re real. I didn’t make you up. Does that make me more or less popular now?
Vivian: You should get to know Shari. She’s a hotshot belly-ring wearing lawyer. Everyone should know someone like that!
Mateo: A new whip? Do tell, do tell… call me!
March 25th, 2006 at 9:26 pm
Definitely less. But on a happy note, I’m sure to be more popular now that you’re not the only one who can see me.
March 27th, 2006 at 4:11 pm
I don’t know Vivian, but that picture of her with the polio poster is the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time…I’m considering making it my wallpaper!! Love that pic!!