LOST IN D.C. AFTER DATE

Retirement- Nowhere to go anymore AND all day to get there. Oh, sorry I was just lost in thought. That happens a lot lately, especially when I see a pretty girl or monkeys fooling around on the TV. “Lost”- a TV series I never miss, even though I’ve never really understood a single episode.
Lost- Washington, D.C., the most confusing city I’ve ever driven thru. And this is genetic. I remember one family trip with my father driving down south trying to pass thru Washington, D.C., years before the beltway around the city was built.
My father, who was not a pleasant person at the best of times, had gotten lost and pulled over to ask directions. Off we went with the directions fresh in my father’s head, only to return several hours later to the exact same spot, having circumnavigated the center of the city to get there.
To deny that my dad was mad would be like trying to put the lava back into an erupting volcano with a tea spoon. I just remember flush faced boiling over anger and total silence from my mother and me the remainder of the trip.
Many years later I also got lost down town. I drove into D.C. from my Air Force barracks to pick up a cute English girl named Georgina who was a governess for a diplomat’s family that lived on so-called Embassy Road.
I knocked on their huge posh door and was ushered in as Georgina told the family, on one of the house’s many intercoms that she was leaving. “Ta, Ta.” Aside from a tour of the White House this was the nicest house I’d ever been in.
My big idea for our date was to see Elvis Presley’s 1968 comeback TV special. So I drove to Georgetown University, parked and entered buildings until I found a dayroom with a TV. We sat on a couch, like we belonged there, and watched Elvis swathed all in black leather in concert after I changed the channel.
Afterwards, I treated her to a fast food burger and fries then returned her to the castle. In other words, it was a great date and reasonably priced.
Now I only knew one way in and one way out of confusing Washington D.C. and I missed a turn. So I drove around the district like a drunk searching for a drink after all the bars had closed.
I got to see Abe at the Lincoln Memorial stand up and stretch after sitting all day like a statue for the tourists. I overheard Thomas Jefferson at the Jefferson Memorial declare that “All men are created equal, except for slaves.” Because he couldn’t have kept his plantation Monticello going financially without all his free slave labor. They later cut that last part out of the Declaration of Independence.
The White House turns all colors of the rainbow on Gay Pride Saturday nights. I spotted the Reflecting Pool churning with mermaids around 4 AM and the reflection of Marilyn Monroe singing “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” like a big haired plunging cleavage billboard in its waters.
At least that’s what I thought I saw in my sleep deprived fevered mind as I chased Route 95 beltway signs that appeared then suddenly disappeared just before leading you to the actual beltway.
I’m surprised I’m not still circling the city, but I got back before my duty started again on Monday morning. The last I heard about Georgina was that she had moved west and married a cowboy. Way to go, girlfriend. Giddyup, Limey.