This afternoon, we journeyed into D.C. via the metro to visit the
Newseum. This museum is devoted to journalism and how it has affected the stories of our times. It is extremely worthwhile for news junkies, aficionados of current events, or escaping rainy days; I highly recommend spending at least a day there the next time you visit D.C. I emphasize at least a day b/c during the three hours we were there, I only managed to work through two floors of exhibits.
However, that's not what this post is about. Rather, this is about the latter assertion, escaping rainy days, but not even remotely in the traditional sense.
As soon as we got off the metro, we noticed a bit of drizzle. Not thinking much of it, we began the surprisingly long walk to the museum. Much to our shock, we heard a clap of thunder, and then, the sky released a hurricane of raindrops. And, it began to pour. The raindrops got bigger and bigger until they transformed into some of the biggest raindrops I have ever witnessed.
Unfortunately, we have all been very engrossed in our work for the last two weeks, so most of us did not think to bring an umbrella, raincoat, poncho, or whatever method crazy teenagers--in our case, forensicators--use to combat precipitation. And besides, it hadn't rained much until today. A few lucky souls (fortune tellers, b/c they seemed like they somehow prophesied this would happen) did bring an umbrella or two, but they too were not spared from the torrential downpour.
Our trek was most likely quite a sight for passers-by. I mean, really, it's 42 teenagers and 9 coaches running through the streets of D.C. in pouring rain singing random warmup songs we learned here at camp (the singalong partially initiated by my highly energetic friend Kyle). I had to continually stop to wipe water from my eyes before proceeding. We crossed streets, jumped over puddles, and dragged our weary feet through rough sidewalks and on sandy, gravel paths along the National Mall (I don't recall D.C. infrastructure being so poor). Throughout, we cursed and complained, whined and wailed, but when we finally reached our destination, everyone was having a good laugh about what we had just experienced.
However, our tribulations were not over yet. As we stood around the outside of the building to regroup and catch our breaths no less, we noticed a strange contraption above us. It seemed to be catching rainwater from the roof, and as the rain escalated, the contraption released a tidal wave of water, drenching the people who stood beneath it.
We thought we had endured enough, but we were wrong again. Entering the Newseum was like walking into a room full of ice. The air conditioning was on full blast, making the interior colder than the exterior. My friends and I quickly retreated the bathroom, then to the gift shop, where I reluctantly shelled out $20 for a souvenir T-shirt to replace my drenched one. Fortunately, it's a shirt that I will wear again b/c interestingly enough, it says "News Junkie" on the front. Nice. :) Then, we headed to the café to warm ourselves up with coffee.
That was the end of our fearful journey but only the beginning of my unbelievably amusing day. The rest is kind of unrelated to this post and I need sleep, so we can concern ourselves with those divulgences later.
OK, fine. One detail. I got my first ever paper copy of
The Onion today! Yay! I found some at the subway station. How exciting.
I end with the tagline of one of my most favorite films, wholly epitomized in today's events.
"When it rains, it pours." -Magnolia (1999)
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My posts have been scant and brief lately, but sadly, my life doesn't allow for much time with the blogosphere anymore. The holidays are usually a time for contemplation and relaxation, but I'm finding that I actually have a ton of work to do. :( Thankfully, after the break, I will only have a year and a half of high school to go! (Yes, I am a lowly junior, in case you haven't figured that out yet.)
Before Sunset
I got back late Monday night from visiting New York's Finger Lake region and Cornell University. Besides the usual Ivy League admissions jargon and how you shouldn't write your essay on the grief of losing a pet or other such cliché topics, I learned a very important lesson: Small town America is hopelessly deprived.
Finals are over. Earlier, I actually had time (wow, what a concept) to bake cookies for my newspaper staff to thank them for a (mostly) productive year. Yummy. =>
