Usually I get in a decent 10 miles or so on my Saturday runs, but yesterday -- July 4th -- rather than doing a run, I trekked into Washington, D.C. to go to the Great American State Fair and stay for the fireworks. I decided to go a little early, since I was going to walk around several of the monuments.
Well, after getting off at Foggy Bottom -- the closest stop to the Lincoln Memorial -- I set forth. Only to be met with a total blockade of Constitution Avenue. I knew that there were tons of road closures for cars, but I didn't realize that it had extended to pedestrians, too.
I decided to take a couple of quick pictures of things in the immediate vicinity before making my way down Constitution.
Department of State all decked out, and Albert Einstein baking in the already sweltering heat.
Having come back down to Constitution, I went as far as I could -- only a few blocks -- before I was prevented by more barricades from going any further. OK, doubling back, I wound up going up the east side of the State Dept. building to see additional decorations on the U.S. Diplomacy Center.
I was perpetually stymied by barricades that forced my route. (Remember the flock of dinosaurs in Jurassic Park being pursued? I felt like that.) Often stair-stepping up only to double back.
Along the way I passed a few notable landmarks (the first two below twice):
Department of Interior and statue of Simon de Bolivar
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Organization of American States with Queen Isabella out front
And while, yes, I did pass the White House, I didn't take a photo since there's scaffolding in front of it.
Given how long it was already taking, I decided to stop for lunch along the way. The air conditioning inside was a blessed relief. Finally, I made my way to the entrance for the fair. For some unfathomable reason, they postponed the opening from 10am until noon -- I think because of the heat, which makes no sense, since it was only hotter at noon -- so when I finally arrived at 1pm, there were two enormous feeder lines to the entrance. I turned right (going toward the Smithsonian's Museum of American History) and sought the end of the line. This may have been a poor choice on my part, as they had not planned what they would do when the line got all the way to 14th Street -- where they had tons of barricades set up inside of which were the lines that would ultimately be used as the feeder security lines for the Washington Monument. Thankfully, I was able to get to the back of the line right at that point. But the approach to the entrance was a very slow slog - with me melting the entire way. I was a puddle long before I reached the entrance.
I caught as much shade as possible (by hugging next to the tall barricade) and thankfully had brought a towel with me which I draped over my shoulders -- keeping my arms, neck, and shoulders from becoming lobster red, given I was wearing my U.S. flag Marathon Maniacs singlet. Soon after my arrival, the military flyovers began, which definitely broke up the hot drudgery of the waiting.
Finally, after dealing with approximate 100 degree heat in the line for TWO HOURS, I reached the entrance. Getting through the security check only took a minute or two -- it was pretty painless. But the reason it was taking so long is that it would move only in fits and spurts, because they had two feeder lines they were alternating.
Once inside, I admit I had long before lost my patience. And with that heat, I was not going to deal with standing in some of what appeared to be long lines. So, there were many of the venues that I skipped.
Ferris Wheel
Each of the pavilions (at least, those that were open) had a "passport" booklet which they could get stamped inside each state or territory. They had the name of the state/territory, flag, the capital, motto, and one or two state factoids (like official bird, flower, etc.)
Centerpiece of the Louisiana venue
The area for the rodeo
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New Hampshire had some neat things, given its traditional/historical "first in the nation" primary status (only recently upended). They had some neat campaign pins and collages of what appeared to be trading cards from past years' presidential campaigns.
And then there was the Kansas display:
This was comically small. The intended audience to fill in the faces are little kids, maybe younger than 10 years old. So, when there was a group for 4 full-grown 20-somethings who attempted to fill in (and there isn't much space behind it, given the wall), the person who "was" the Tin Man was contorted at a very awkward angle - I can only imagine how horrible and funny the final photo was.
While these displays were notable for things I wanted to take photos of, two of my favorites were ones I took no photos, but received many giveaways.
Michigan had small boxes of cereal (Rice Krispies and Raisin Bran) as well as small bags of generic potato chips. Thanks for the snack! I definitely needed something, as I was a bit peckish by the time I finally made my way to Michigan.
Ohio had even more they were giving away. Outside the door, that had two different varieties of potato chips in a cart. Inside, they had sling bags (which I very much wanted, so that I didn't need to keep holding my small plastic bag which I was waiting to fall apart on me), a cute plastic hamburger, coloring book, mini first aid kit, and small spritz bottle of sunscreen. (More on these later) They also had yet more, different varieties of potato chips. I was quite happy to have gotten the sling bag, so that I could put each of the different handouts in it quite easily.
There were even many pavilions that were set up to educate people on (and maybe even recruit for) various of the departments and agencies of the federal government. There were one or two that had absolutely nothing present -- I wager whoever was responsible for those respective displays will soon be finding other employment.
It was getting late enough, I decided I wanted to have some dinner. Having stopped in to a couple of the several pavilions dedicated for food and drink, I don't know why I was expecting a different set-up in any of the other ones -- they were predictably identical.
Where there are many doors, outside of which they had different signs, to indicate drinks, food, ice cream, etc., they were not distinct pavilions like the states were. Rather, it was really one long area where it was thoroughly unclear what the setup truly was. If you only wanted something to drink, that was doable with a separate line. But if you wanted food, it was one long line that ran the length of the pavilion, and you couldn't tell what there was until you were basically in front of it. And while I was on line, they weren't making any statement about how each of the counter spaces was actually open and selling the same exact thing as every other, despite the fact that the signage of what was being sold was done in such a way to imply that each booth had its own separate set of items that they sold. Oh, and those additional doors in the middle that had flags outside of them implying they were entrances to get those respective items? The vast majority of them were tied off -- not to be used to enter or exit. Surely that had to be some sort of code violation, given the number of people inside. Finally, after what seemed an interminable time (probably about 15 minutes?) I was able to get my bowl of orange chicken and rice (it didn't have the Asian slaw that was supposed to be with it), a bottle of Gatorade, and an ice cream sandwich. I wolfed down the orange chicken quickly so that I could get to the ice cream before it had the chance to consider melting, even though I had stayed inside the semi-cooled pavilion, standing out of the way next to a wall. I saved the Gatorade for later.
At the time, it was just a few minutes before 7pm. I had fled into the large exhibit hall at the back side of this main stage area when the wind had decided to kick up something fierce and tons of sand and dust was being blown my way. During that time, there were a few more flyovers that happened. (Oh well.) After the wind died down and I went back outside to see one or two more of the above flyovers, there was a very ominous announcement made that the fair was being postponed due to a line of severe thunderstorms approaching. We were ordered to evacuate the fairgrounds and seek shelter in a permanent structure or car. (The temporary structures of the fair were insufficient shelter, not to mention they never would have held enough people simultaneously.) Dammit! I wanted to see the flyover of Air Force One and the new version of Air Force One -- both of which were scheduled for the next 15 minutes! But I dutifully made my way out the exit and walked the one block to the Smithsonian I spent the afternoon outside of on line. People kept streaming in. There were definitely hundreds, if not more, who eventually sought shelter inside. While part of the first floor had been closed off early on, they eventually opened it up so that the bathrooms that were at that end of the floor could be used to relieve the insanely long lines at the one pair of restrooms they had been pointing attendees to from the beginning.
Annoyingly enough, they kept having all of the flyovers happen anyway. They should have diverted the planes that were already in the air so that there wasn't the continuing attraction of the flyovers encouraging attendees to be outdoors, where we were being advised it was unsafe to be.
His speech ended. And this backburn flyover was the last for the evening, and immediately preceded the fireworks, which kicked off only a few seconds before midnight (according to the timestamp on my phone's photo and video).
Lots of pop or rock songs sung during the 40 minute, record-breaking fireworks display. One segment was "Sweet Caroline" and part-way through it, at an impeccably timed moment, lightning struck. It was amazing to witness.
Finally, at 9:15pm, several people were seeing the announcement on the fair's Instagram feed that the fair was reopened. (Silly me, I was always refreshing the fair's website, which never featured this announcement while I was still in the museum.) We all started to make our way outside and towards the entrance back to the fair.
Only the entrance was still closed! There was no one there telling us what was happening or when the gate would actually open -- if at all. And, of course, slowly but surely, the rain started to return, pretty steadily. No thunder or lightning, nor wind - so there's that. Everyone is chatting in their small pockets of people, making new temporary friends to pass the time. I met a couple from southern California. Given where they were in the fairgrounds when the evacuation was ordered, he actually managed to catch at least one of the Air Force One flyovers. 9:30 came and went, and still no word from anyone/anywhere as to what was going on. Why the hell weren't they letting us in? Then their son sees (likely on Instagram) that they announced the gates would open at 9:45. (Great. So why did they tell us 30 minutes ahead of that that the fair was actually open? Whatever.)
9:45 comes and goes. Each passing minute everyone getting a bit restless. One guy screams out "How about we sing the national anthem?" So, that's exactly what we did. Hundreds of people tightly packed together hoping to get in and hoping that our singing would get the attention of someone on the other side of the fencing to open up. Or, at least, to come over and give us some information of what to expect and when. Nope - nothing.
Over the course of the ensuing 20 minutes, we wound up singing God Bless America, Take Me Out to the Ball Game, and there were a few people who tried to lead people to sing Take Me Home Country Roads, YMCA, and one or two other songs that no one really knows ALL of the lyrics too, so those fell apart REALLY fast. The longer we waited, the more people intermittently started to chant "Let Us In!" which, thankfully, myself and a few others nearby were able to shut down pretty fast -- we didn't think it was wise to go there and potentially rile up the already antsy crowd, and make the organizers and security on the other side of the fence either think twice about opening up or just take longer because of thinking they needed more security on hand.
At last, they opened about 10:05pm, and there is nearly a stampede to get in, there is so much shoving. I basically had to shove backwards on people who were pushing me and squeezing me, lest I fall over in the madhouse. I don't care that you 20-something don't want to lose your dad; don't shove me over in the process because you don't have a plan.
Security screening did NOT go as smoothly this time around. Not surprisingly, all of the same rules that applied earlier about what was not permitted in were still in effect. Meaning that all of those opaque bags that you either bought or acquired as freebie giveaways while you were in attendance earlier? If you were actually using those as the bag you were carrying things in, those were no longer welcome -- to be thrown away in front of the metal detectors. So, all of the freebies that I got in Ohio -- to include the bag I was able to make good use of earlier? They were all sacrificed without a second thought (and without having taken a photo -- which I had figured on doing only after I got home). All I made sure I had was my towel (now, back around my shoulders) and the clear bag o' stuff I came with. Mercifully during the 2 hours in the museum, I had eaten two of the three bags of potato chips that I had kept as of that point.
Back inside, I made a relatively quick detour to see the Ferris Wheel all lit up, and then took up a decent position waiting for the president's speech and the fireworks.
President Trump's speech lasted about 40 minutes, and was largely honoring various military heroes (including a few WWII vets who are over 100 years old and still with us) and featuring and different historical versions of the American flag. As it was nearing midnight, I wondered if he was actually going to finish early enough so that the fireworks would at least start on July 4th. (It was known the full display was set to last 40 minutes, so we were long-since past the possibility of it finishing on July 4th.)
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And while there were a couple of times during the fireworks where there was a little spritz of rain, the heavy rain held off until maybe 5 seconds after the finale. Quickly, I got to the exit, thankfully ahead of most others, given where I had been standing for the show.
A few minutes later, I was on the platform at Metro Center, and less than two minutes later, my line arrived, about 95% full. A few people got off, and there was barely any room available for anyone else, but I was among the few who were able to squeeze in, since I was standing at the exact right spot next to the door opening. (Were I half-way between doors, I wouldn't have made it on.) This was the most uncomfortable Metro trip I've ever been on, especially given how difficult it was to either brace myself against the ceiling or, eventually, reach one of the grab bars. There were many stops along the way where no one got off and there were lots of people on the platform hoping to get onto the train, and several of the people in the vicinity of the door stated that there was no room available, that they couldn't get on -- thankfully the people on the platform heeded those statements.
Unfortunately, there was one lady who was not doing well, between the heat, be jostled a bit by the movement of the train, and having drunk and/or eaten too much. About 5 stops prior to my planned departure from the train, she was leaning against the door frame and threw up a couple of times. Oh, boy, did that quickly create some space around her. I had been about one person away from her, and mercifully was able to make my way into a pocket among the riders a little further forward. Soon enough, I arrived at my stop and drove home. Back through the door at 2:30am -- what a LONG day!
