The Lab

The second day was mostly spent on DC frolic.

Pookie and I made a hunt of trying to find some Toynbee Tiles.  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toynbee_tiles) We weren’t successful finding any, but we enjoyed it all the same.  The walk was lovely: the weather was fairly warm, and a lot of the spring flowers were blooming.

We also toured the International Spy Museum. (http://www.spymuseum.org/)  Pretty neat place – I recommend it if anyone is traveling to the area.

I loved this T-shirt in the Spy Store:

After the Spy Museum, Pookie and I got to spend some time with one of my college buddies who lives in the area.  He gave us a tour of the area around the White House and walked us over to the Smithsonian Museums.  We didn’t get to spend more than hour in the Museum of Natural History before we had to leave.

Day 2 is also when the horrific taxi ride from DC to Gaithersberg happened.  We were traveling to a Marriott where my company booked some rooms for the week. I shouldn’t have gotten into that cab.  The cabbie carelessly plowed through three lanes of traffic to make a right turn in a left turn only lane so he could beat out the cab driver my husband was hailing across the street.  I really shouldn’t have gotten into that cab.

As soon as I told him we wanted to go to Gaithersburg he looked confused.  “Gettysburg”? he asked.  “No, Gaithersburg” I replied.  “… Gettysburg?…” he questioned.  “No.  G.A.I.T.H.E.R.S. burg” I spelled out for him.  “Right!  Gettysburg!!” He smiled happily.  Sighing, I named the hotel and told him it was in Washingtonian Center.  He told us he knew where that was.  I hoped we wouldn’t be going to Gettysburg.

15 min later we found ourselves on the highway.  Our driver had been on the phone the entire time.  I was gripping the ‘Oh Shit Handle’ for dear life as he rode between lanes, swerved around cars without even a turn signal, and almost drove off the road a few times.

Every time I felt my bladder loose a fraction of control, I mentally shaved of percentages of his tip.  Around then he decided it would be a good time to ask me for an address.   There was so much wrong with this.  I guess ‘the Marriott at Washingtonian Center in Gaithersburg’ wasn’t good enough for someone who claimed to know the place.   Not having a smart phone on me, my husband called around to friends before he found one available to look it up.  Meanwhile Mr. Knievel Pants was back on the phone chatting away.  Guess he didn’t think to ask his dispatcher for directions.  I finally got the specific street name and number.

We still ended up turning around and around.  By the way, those turns happened at red lights in no-U-turn sections.  Sometimes he just stopped in the middle of the road to scratch his head and mutter to his buddy on the phone.  I don’t even know if he was aware of the angry horn blares and drivers swerving around him.

By the third time we turned around, our fare was already past $70.  I told him up front we weren’t paying for the extra fare (it should have been $50 tops).  He wisely agreed and stopped the meter.

Somehow we stumbled upon a Marriott hotel.  The cabbie told us he would take $55 for the fare.  I sullenly handed him my credit card.  He stared at it, stammering that he couldn’t take a credit card because he had stopped the meter.  The idiot had actually turned off the entire machine, clearing the system.  He uselessly punched at some buttons and pointed to the blank screen with a shrug.  I told him I didn’t have that much cash on me (who does these days?).  The cabbie just repeated that he couldn’t take credit and stared at me.

Sensing the shit storm I was about to rain down upon the cabbie, my husband quietly exited the cab and proceeded to get our luggage out of the trunk.  Meanwhile, I struggled to keep myself from giving the driver a tip.  Many tips.  None of them involving currency of any kind.

I internally debated if I wanted to press the ‘no credit acceptance = no payment’ rule, or just ask my hubby for his emergency cash and be done with it.  Maybe the cabbie sensed this.  He began to apologize, pleading excuses and being generally pitiful.  My husband handed me his wallet with a questioning head tilt.  I paid the bastard and have regretted it since.  There was no tip.  Of any kind.

To top it off, he brought us to the wrong hotel.

We eventually got to the correct hotel.  It was only a block or so away.  We walked.  I wasn’t about to get into another cab.

Thankfully the rest of the evening was quiet and relaxing.  We had a lovely meal at the hotel bar.  Even my non-drinking husband enjoyed a cocktail *wipes tear away* So proud!