It was a beautiful day to go to DC. We'd been wanting to roam around all the museums and galleries for a while now, but the timing nor the weather had been in our favor. Not today though. Today was promisingly bright and clear. We left our umbrellas home despite the forecast of light showers later. I requested for the car windows to be rolled down and we drove up to capital city with the crisp wind keeping our spirits, and at one point, us (literally), buoyant.
I noticed as we closed the distance to DC, there were fewer and fewer cars on the highway. Ramps looped overhead, bulldozers and steamrollers left unmanned on them. Nothing seemed more out of place, however, than the city itself. The architecture was the same. The streets were the same. There were a few cars parked here and there. The weird part was that there were no people around. My brother-in-law thought it was strange, but forgot all about it in a few moments because we found parking almost immediately. Strollers came out, kids were buckled in, and coats were stored in the baskets under them, just in case. We saw nobody else as we walked towards the Smithsonian. Finally, as we cut the corner of Madison Drive, we saw movement to our right. It was the National Gallery of Art's Sculpture Garden. A few people were scattered around, walking about slowly. Some were sitting on the benches, staring at the sculptures. I saw a child sitting on the top most chair of the Samaras sculpture. My sister and I briefly wondered how she got up there before realizing her husband and sons were already turning onto the steps of the museum.
As my sister and I quickly made our way up the path to catch up with the boys, I heard lightning crackle right above our heads. We exchanged a look filled with dread and urgency, and quickened our stride. We'd just gotten to the enormous triceratops replica outside the Smithsonian when I felt my feet slow down inadvertently, as if heavy weights had been put on them. I felt two hands, as light as wind, but cold as ice, shove me, square in the back. I stumbled forward, and stopped in my tracks for just a second. In that second, I saw a smoke-like outline of my form linger a few inches in front of me before being pulled back through me. I felt light and heavy, warm and cold at the same time. I remember thinking, this is what being microwaved must feel like. Too scared to look back I shuffled up to my sister and asked her if there was something behind me. She glanced back, and her eyes widened. She told me there was a smoky outline of what looked like me, frozen in place on the sidewalk. I linked my arm to hers and she pushed hard on Yum's stroller. We had to get indoors. Something creepy was going on.
After dragging the heavy, child-laden stroller backwards up the broad steps of the museum, we were greeted by nothingness. There were no lines, no security, and no other visitors, but that wasn't the worst part. There were no exhibits. Everything had been stripped clean. The giant elephant that was supposed to be in the entrance hall was replaced by an empty space. We couldn't find my brother in law or my two nephews. I was starting to panic, but my sister suggested we go back out and walk across to the park. She'd seen the carousel moving in the distance. Perhaps her husband had taken the kids for a ride after meeting disappointment here? I ran ahead of my sister to check, but when I got there the carousel was empty. The horses were moving up and down, staring sideways at us, eerie grins frozen on their ghastly faces. I turned to look at my sister and she was gone. The stroller and my daughter were gone too. Instead, there was a large 6 ft tall cupcake where they were supposed to be. Biggest I had ever seen, with caramel and ganache dripping down over the edges. I stared, mouth open, watering slightly. Then I felt someone shove me from behind. I remember sticking my tongue out in an attempt to taste that caramel before smashing into darkness.
I'm just kidding. Of course none of that happened! We found parking after twenty minutes of driving in circles, walked along the Sculpture Garden, where the sole of my shoe started to flap, falling off completely a minute later somewhere close to the Triceratops replica. We braved the long line, strollers, kids, and all, and did a quick circuit around some of the exhibits: Dinosaurs, Diamonds, Mummies, and Insects, where we were lucky enough to witness a butterfly creeping out of its chrysalis. After the museum, we got snacks and hung out at the park across the street, where my younger nephew enticed some birds with his potato chips and screamed his head off when they came close. The kids got a chance to sit on the carousel as the sky drizzled cold needle-like drops of water on to us. My elder nephew sat on what looked like a water horse from a Maggie Stiefvater book. We then piled back into the car, my soleless shoe slushing with cold water from the streets, and stopped at the Cold Stone Creamery on our way back home. All in all, it was a fun trip, which was later transformed into a fantastical adventure thanks to ZzzQuil.
P.S. Those cupcakes are real, just not that tall. :P
I noticed as we closed the distance to DC, there were fewer and fewer cars on the highway. Ramps looped overhead, bulldozers and steamrollers left unmanned on them. Nothing seemed more out of place, however, than the city itself. The architecture was the same. The streets were the same. There were a few cars parked here and there. The weird part was that there were no people around. My brother-in-law thought it was strange, but forgot all about it in a few moments because we found parking almost immediately. Strollers came out, kids were buckled in, and coats were stored in the baskets under them, just in case. We saw nobody else as we walked towards the Smithsonian. Finally, as we cut the corner of Madison Drive, we saw movement to our right. It was the National Gallery of Art's Sculpture Garden. A few people were scattered around, walking about slowly. Some were sitting on the benches, staring at the sculptures. I saw a child sitting on the top most chair of the Samaras sculpture. My sister and I briefly wondered how she got up there before realizing her husband and sons were already turning onto the steps of the museum.
As my sister and I quickly made our way up the path to catch up with the boys, I heard lightning crackle right above our heads. We exchanged a look filled with dread and urgency, and quickened our stride. We'd just gotten to the enormous triceratops replica outside the Smithsonian when I felt my feet slow down inadvertently, as if heavy weights had been put on them. I felt two hands, as light as wind, but cold as ice, shove me, square in the back. I stumbled forward, and stopped in my tracks for just a second. In that second, I saw a smoke-like outline of my form linger a few inches in front of me before being pulled back through me. I felt light and heavy, warm and cold at the same time. I remember thinking, this is what being microwaved must feel like. Too scared to look back I shuffled up to my sister and asked her if there was something behind me. She glanced back, and her eyes widened. She told me there was a smoky outline of what looked like me, frozen in place on the sidewalk. I linked my arm to hers and she pushed hard on Yum's stroller. We had to get indoors. Something creepy was going on.
After dragging the heavy, child-laden stroller backwards up the broad steps of the museum, we were greeted by nothingness. There were no lines, no security, and no other visitors, but that wasn't the worst part. There were no exhibits. Everything had been stripped clean. The giant elephant that was supposed to be in the entrance hall was replaced by an empty space. We couldn't find my brother in law or my two nephews. I was starting to panic, but my sister suggested we go back out and walk across to the park. She'd seen the carousel moving in the distance. Perhaps her husband had taken the kids for a ride after meeting disappointment here? I ran ahead of my sister to check, but when I got there the carousel was empty. The horses were moving up and down, staring sideways at us, eerie grins frozen on their ghastly faces. I turned to look at my sister and she was gone. The stroller and my daughter were gone too. Instead, there was a large 6 ft tall cupcake where they were supposed to be. Biggest I had ever seen, with caramel and ganache dripping down over the edges. I stared, mouth open, watering slightly. Then I felt someone shove me from behind. I remember sticking my tongue out in an attempt to taste that caramel before smashing into darkness.
I'm just kidding. Of course none of that happened! We found parking after twenty minutes of driving in circles, walked along the Sculpture Garden, where the sole of my shoe started to flap, falling off completely a minute later somewhere close to the Triceratops replica. We braved the long line, strollers, kids, and all, and did a quick circuit around some of the exhibits: Dinosaurs, Diamonds, Mummies, and Insects, where we were lucky enough to witness a butterfly creeping out of its chrysalis. After the museum, we got snacks and hung out at the park across the street, where my younger nephew enticed some birds with his potato chips and screamed his head off when they came close. The kids got a chance to sit on the carousel as the sky drizzled cold needle-like drops of water on to us. My elder nephew sat on what looked like a water horse from a Maggie Stiefvater book. We then piled back into the car, my soleless shoe slushing with cold water from the streets, and stopped at the Cold Stone Creamery on our way back home. All in all, it was a fun trip, which was later transformed into a fantastical adventure thanks to ZzzQuil.
P.S. Those cupcakes are real, just not that tall. :P
