Thirty-Six Hours, Three Thousand Miles

It's 10:00 p.m. on Sunday night. Exactly one week ago, at this very time, I had just checked into a hotel room in Washington D.C. Less than 24 hours later, I was back on a plane headed home. Given obvious time restraints, my sight seeing was limited to a view of Arlington National Cemetery from the highway, a view of the capitol building from a high-rise in Virginia, and a trip to the Smithsonian store in the airport.

Needless to say, one week ago I was experiencing an agonizing temptation, for I was sitting in a hotel room three miles from 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., knowing this was my only opportunity to hop on a train headed downtown and catch a glimpse of something, anything. But my mature, responsible, adult side prevailed. As I got ready for bed instead, I was a little bit heart-broken and a little bit proud.