Tourist Season
Today was offically my last day of work at RCI, and I officially left my office at 1:55 p.m., saying good-bye and heading back home. I came into my house, blasted "Walking on Sunshine", and drank down a beer. (There's nothing like a beer in the afternoon on a hot summer day.)
Except strangely enough, it wasn't a hot summer's day - not really. It was gorgeous out. 75 degrees, clear skies, and breezy. It's like God knew I never had to work at RCI again and commanded the weather to cooperate.
So I walked out my door, armed with my IPOD, and I walked down to the Mall. I went inside the Museum of the American Indian and I walked through the Sculpture Garden listening to Elliott Smith. After a good hour and a half of museums I felt like I had enough culture for one day. So about 15 minutes ago, I was walking back. I was halfway down the mall, when a very flustered looking, slightly sun-burnt man with a tiny pack strapped around his stomach was holding a map. He had his wife and two tired looking children beside him. For some reason, I didn't have my IPOD on - so he stopped me.
"Excuse me. I'm sorry... do you know how to get to the metro?"
"Yeah, sure. Where do you want to go?"
"We're trying to get to Union Station. Our train leaves here at 5, and ... We've been walking around trying to find it."
I know that feeling. "Yeah, okay. What you want to do is go to L'Enfant Plaza. You want to take the Yellow or the Green Line to Chinatown and then switch trains. When you see a sign that says "Glenmont", you want to..."
The man is only looking more and more confused and anxious.
I look at him and and his wife and kids and I say, "You know ... Tell you what. I'm actually headed to L'Enfant Plaza, do you want me to take you there?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"Oh my God... would you mind? That would help us out."
"Yeah, sure. That's not a problem."
*In the background kids are talking.* "Danny, the kids want something to eat. They haven't had anything since lunch time. I'm gonna get them some hot dogs."
*The guys nods and digs into his pocket for some cash.*
Now, I had a moment where I almost didn't say it, but then I thought - what the hell. I'll try to do the guy a favor, "You know, if your kids could wait like about five minutes down the road... I know a place that sells hot dogs for way cheaper. It's on the way."
*looks at the sign that says "Hot Dogs $4.75"* "Really?"
"Yeah. Here, it's uh... it's actually down this way."
So I walk with this family for maybe four or five blocks. I learn that they're from Kansas City - where my roommate is from actually. I tell them as much, and I learn that the guy works as an office manager. His wife works for Citibank, and they're here seeing relatives. They're headed up the NYC, where they're going to meet with some friends and see the East Coast while they can.
I get them to the metro stop and beside the metro stop is the same vendor who's always there. Danny orders hot dogs for his family, and the total came to $7. He got so excited. "Seven dollars? All right!"
"Yeah," I said. "They taste better too."
The guy got so excited that he offered to buy me a hot dog.
I turned him down, but I said, "Nah, that's okay. Just do me a favor and don't do this when you get to New York, okay? You're a nice family. I don't want to see anything bad happen to you guys."
So from there, I told him how to get to Union Station from there, wished them luck, and the family waved good-bye to me.
Moral off the story? If all of us didn't have to work shitty jobs, tourists would meet way friendlier people on the streets of D.C.
Except strangely enough, it wasn't a hot summer's day - not really. It was gorgeous out. 75 degrees, clear skies, and breezy. It's like God knew I never had to work at RCI again and commanded the weather to cooperate.
So I walked out my door, armed with my IPOD, and I walked down to the Mall. I went inside the Museum of the American Indian and I walked through the Sculpture Garden listening to Elliott Smith. After a good hour and a half of museums I felt like I had enough culture for one day. So about 15 minutes ago, I was walking back. I was halfway down the mall, when a very flustered looking, slightly sun-burnt man with a tiny pack strapped around his stomach was holding a map. He had his wife and two tired looking children beside him. For some reason, I didn't have my IPOD on - so he stopped me.
"Excuse me. I'm sorry... do you know how to get to the metro?"
"Yeah, sure. Where do you want to go?"
"We're trying to get to Union Station. Our train leaves here at 5, and ... We've been walking around trying to find it."
I know that feeling. "Yeah, okay. What you want to do is go to L'Enfant Plaza. You want to take the Yellow or the Green Line to Chinatown and then switch trains. When you see a sign that says "Glenmont", you want to..."
The man is only looking more and more confused and anxious.
I look at him and and his wife and kids and I say, "You know ... Tell you what. I'm actually headed to L'Enfant Plaza, do you want me to take you there?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"Oh my God... would you mind? That would help us out."
"Yeah, sure. That's not a problem."
*In the background kids are talking.* "Danny, the kids want something to eat. They haven't had anything since lunch time. I'm gonna get them some hot dogs."
*The guys nods and digs into his pocket for some cash.*
Now, I had a moment where I almost didn't say it, but then I thought - what the hell. I'll try to do the guy a favor, "You know, if your kids could wait like about five minutes down the road... I know a place that sells hot dogs for way cheaper. It's on the way."
*looks at the sign that says "Hot Dogs $4.75"* "Really?"
"Yeah. Here, it's uh... it's actually down this way."
So I walk with this family for maybe four or five blocks. I learn that they're from Kansas City - where my roommate is from actually. I tell them as much, and I learn that the guy works as an office manager. His wife works for Citibank, and they're here seeing relatives. They're headed up the NYC, where they're going to meet with some friends and see the East Coast while they can.
I get them to the metro stop and beside the metro stop is the same vendor who's always there. Danny orders hot dogs for his family, and the total came to $7. He got so excited. "Seven dollars? All right!"
"Yeah," I said. "They taste better too."
The guy got so excited that he offered to buy me a hot dog.
I turned him down, but I said, "Nah, that's okay. Just do me a favor and don't do this when you get to New York, okay? You're a nice family. I don't want to see anything bad happen to you guys."
So from there, I told him how to get to Union Station from there, wished them luck, and the family waved good-bye to me.
Moral off the story? If all of us didn't have to work shitty jobs, tourists would meet way friendlier people on the streets of D.C.