View Part One Here
Because we were hungry, and because we wanted to spend as little time as possible in our motel room, we then looked in a phone book for a restaurant. After I spied a location of the late lamented Chi-Chi's chain in the phone book, we piled back into the minivan and headed out in search of dinner. It is here once again our midwestern reliance on grid street patterns and wide avenues failed us, as Frederick was full of meandering streets. We went through several areas of the town, never finding the main road on which our destination sat. After going halfway to Harpers Ferry along US 15, and then getting back on I-70 for a while, without any luck, my dad was about to give up. About at that moment, I saw a turnoff for the road we needed, and we appeared to finally be on our way to a relaxing meal.
While stopped at a redlight on this main commercial thoroughfare, we heard sirens in the distance. As they got closer, we were able to discern that they were from fire trucks. As the trucks passed us, I casually mentioned that it would be very funny if they were going to a fire at the Chi-Chis. Everyone in the van laughed, confident that it was just a joke.
A couple of blocks later, we were able to see the smoke pouring out of a building alongside the road. As we came ever closer to the fire, once again an off-handed comment of mine became a vision of reality. Thick black smoke was pouring out of the Chi-Chi's, as rescued patrons sipped their margaritas out on the front yard of the restaurant. At this point, we just had to laugh, as if it the burning down of the restaurant was the expected result of the day. Fortunately for us, there was a Mexican restaurant just down the street, with the manager standing outside watching his competitor slowly burn. Although I can't be certain, this was probably my first time at an "authentic" mexican restaurant. It was a nice experience, and a better meal than the one we would have had at Chi-Chi's, wandering mariachi band notwithstanding.
After our enjoyable meal, we headed back to our dingy motel room for an early night. But first, we stood outside and watched the fireworks show at the minor league stadium, which was just down the street from the motel. The fireworks were certainly pretty, and appeared to be a nice capper to a bizarre day. As we watched the fireworks, we looked around at the crowd around us. Almost every family standing in the parking lot had at least one family member who was shirtless. Noticing the pattern, I remarked that we must be in the no-shirt section. We all laughed wearily, well aware that things could certainly be worse than standing in a parking lot watching fireworks on a family vacation. Even if all our neighbors for the night were shirtless.
Showing posts with label Maryland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Maryland. Show all posts
Friday, July 3, 2009
We'll Take Two Double Beds in the No Shirt Section - A Travel Story (Pt. 1)
Note: In contrast to yesterday's serious post about Gettysburg, I thought I would offer a light story about an adventurous day in my family's life. The day in question took place on July 3, 1998, during a trip out east, the day before a visit to Gettysburg.
Most days of my family vacations have been comfortably boring. By this, I mean that they were enjoyable, but not very memorable, involving travel to or from a destination, or just general days of relaxation and entertainment. However, once in a long while, there was a day that everyone in the family remembers very well. Sometimes these days are memorable in a honestly good way, full of happy and truly enjoyable moments. Some aren't so enjoyable at the time, but become funny as we move away from the day. A precious few days transcend that barrier completely and are packed with so many crazy occurrences that they immediately become favorite family stories. July 3, 1998 is one of those days.
The day began like any other day on the trip. It was the final morning at our hotel at the oceanfront in Virginia Beach. It was a pleasant enough morning, with my parents and sister taking a walk along the beach as my brother and I slept. We checked out of the hotel at a reasonable hour, with intentions of lazily traveling up to the Gettysburg area to spend the night. Independence Day in Gettysburg was the important day, as we would be visiting a reenactment as well as the battlefield. We thought that Gettysburg would be packed, but that Fredrick was far enough away we could get a hotel. After all, nobody needed a hotel room along I-70 less than an hour away from a major event at Gettysburg and the Fourth in Washington, right?
Before we depart the Hampton Roads area, we stop at an IHOP for breakfast. I am vague as to where this certain IHOP was in the city, and it probably is no longer there. At least, it probably shouldn't be, for it was one of the worst non McDonald's breakfast experiences our family has ever had. The waitress gets our order taken quick enough, and the family talks as we wait for our meal. We keep waiting....and keep waiting...and keep waiting. Finally, our waitress comes back over and apologizes, pretty much saying that some of the cooking staff had quit right on the spot, and things were taking a while. After a very long time, we finally got our food, although it came out in a slow and piecemeal fashion. After two hours or so, we finally finished our meal. The clock was pushing noon, and we weren't even out of Virginia Beach. Things were not starting out very well.
Nonetheless, we were fed, and we were finally on our way. We said goodbye to Virginia Beach, not knowing that I would be back for a 22 month stay about eight and a half years later. We crossed the Hampton Roads Bridge and Tunnel, and also crossed the Coleman Bridge at Yorktown, in sight of the battleground where the United States effectively won its independence. Once we were north of the York River, it was a nice, yet fairly boring drive up to Fredericksburg. We saw a lot of farmland, a few towns, and an occaisonal glimpse of the Potomac River. As afternoon was moving its way towards evening, we arrived at the National Park Service visitors center at Fredericksburg.
If you have ever been to Fredericksburg, you know that it is as uniformative of a battlefield as Gettysburg is informative. The modern city of Fredericksburg encroaches right up to the wall at Marye's Heights, quite possibly even farther than the Union got in December 1862. Sure the house with the bullet holes and the sunken road are neat, and you can get some idea of how it was, but it is kind of hard to picture the killing field before the wall when 20th century frame houses are within your eyeline. There are other, more pristine parts of the battlefield, and three other major battles (Wilderness, Spotsylvania, and Chancellorsville) are part of the park. However, given that Gettysburg was our destination, we only had time for a quick stop. More exploration of this hotbed of Civil War action would have to wait for another time.
Up until now, except for our marathon breakfast and a minor detour through the redeveloping area of Newport News, things were going fine. They stayed fine until we entered the Beltway. I had convinced my dad to skip the bypass and go along the George Washington Parkway across from Washington, so we could get a quick glimpse of the skyline of our nation's capitol. As we drove towards the Pentagon, I made an joking remark to my dad that if we crossed the river, we had gone too far.
Unfortunately, that joke was actually an unintentional prophecy, as we cruised on across the Potomac into the District of Columbia. I feel it necessary to remind you that this was the day before Independence Day. It was the dress rehearsal day for the big festivities, and the city was packed. My dad wasn't too happy about having to navigate through the traffic, although we did get to see several of the monuments and a close-up view of the White House. Other than the stress caused by having to drive through the mess, I'm sure every one did get some enjoyment out of the quick detour through our Washingotn.
Within minutes my dad had gotten us back on the parkway, and towards I-70 and Frederick. It is at this point we lapsed into our Illinois sense of distance, not understanding that Frederick was as close to Washington and Gettysburg as Ridge Farm is to Champaign and Danville. Not only is Frederick close to both places, but also it is right on I-70, a major conduit between Washington and pretty much everywhere west of there. So instead of expecting everywhere to be full, or reserving a room in advance, we strolled up to our usual chain motel choices and tried our luck. Place after place our luck was a failure, until the clerk at one of the hotels gave us a possible choice: The Frederick Inn.
Therefore, we drove over to The Frederick Inn, our one hope for the night. And what luck, they had a room. Sure, it was in the part of the hotel that wasn't remodeled, and the place looked a bit weathered. But we had a room for the night. Yeah, the beds were tiny, the carpet looked like it was pieced together from stained samples, and the non-carpeted floor wasn't much better. At least we had a place to rest for the night, even if I felt compelled to sleep in the van instead of the room. My parents were right in convincing me to stay in the room, although not by much.
Continue with Part 2
Most days of my family vacations have been comfortably boring. By this, I mean that they were enjoyable, but not very memorable, involving travel to or from a destination, or just general days of relaxation and entertainment. However, once in a long while, there was a day that everyone in the family remembers very well. Sometimes these days are memorable in a honestly good way, full of happy and truly enjoyable moments. Some aren't so enjoyable at the time, but become funny as we move away from the day. A precious few days transcend that barrier completely and are packed with so many crazy occurrences that they immediately become favorite family stories. July 3, 1998 is one of those days.
The day began like any other day on the trip. It was the final morning at our hotel at the oceanfront in Virginia Beach. It was a pleasant enough morning, with my parents and sister taking a walk along the beach as my brother and I slept. We checked out of the hotel at a reasonable hour, with intentions of lazily traveling up to the Gettysburg area to spend the night. Independence Day in Gettysburg was the important day, as we would be visiting a reenactment as well as the battlefield. We thought that Gettysburg would be packed, but that Fredrick was far enough away we could get a hotel. After all, nobody needed a hotel room along I-70 less than an hour away from a major event at Gettysburg and the Fourth in Washington, right?
Before we depart the Hampton Roads area, we stop at an IHOP for breakfast. I am vague as to where this certain IHOP was in the city, and it probably is no longer there. At least, it probably shouldn't be, for it was one of the worst non McDonald's breakfast experiences our family has ever had. The waitress gets our order taken quick enough, and the family talks as we wait for our meal. We keep waiting....and keep waiting...and keep waiting. Finally, our waitress comes back over and apologizes, pretty much saying that some of the cooking staff had quit right on the spot, and things were taking a while. After a very long time, we finally got our food, although it came out in a slow and piecemeal fashion. After two hours or so, we finally finished our meal. The clock was pushing noon, and we weren't even out of Virginia Beach. Things were not starting out very well.
Nonetheless, we were fed, and we were finally on our way. We said goodbye to Virginia Beach, not knowing that I would be back for a 22 month stay about eight and a half years later. We crossed the Hampton Roads Bridge and Tunnel, and also crossed the Coleman Bridge at Yorktown, in sight of the battleground where the United States effectively won its independence. Once we were north of the York River, it was a nice, yet fairly boring drive up to Fredericksburg. We saw a lot of farmland, a few towns, and an occaisonal glimpse of the Potomac River. As afternoon was moving its way towards evening, we arrived at the National Park Service visitors center at Fredericksburg.
If you have ever been to Fredericksburg, you know that it is as uniformative of a battlefield as Gettysburg is informative. The modern city of Fredericksburg encroaches right up to the wall at Marye's Heights, quite possibly even farther than the Union got in December 1862. Sure the house with the bullet holes and the sunken road are neat, and you can get some idea of how it was, but it is kind of hard to picture the killing field before the wall when 20th century frame houses are within your eyeline. There are other, more pristine parts of the battlefield, and three other major battles (Wilderness, Spotsylvania, and Chancellorsville) are part of the park. However, given that Gettysburg was our destination, we only had time for a quick stop. More exploration of this hotbed of Civil War action would have to wait for another time.
Up until now, except for our marathon breakfast and a minor detour through the redeveloping area of Newport News, things were going fine. They stayed fine until we entered the Beltway. I had convinced my dad to skip the bypass and go along the George Washington Parkway across from Washington, so we could get a quick glimpse of the skyline of our nation's capitol. As we drove towards the Pentagon, I made an joking remark to my dad that if we crossed the river, we had gone too far.
Unfortunately, that joke was actually an unintentional prophecy, as we cruised on across the Potomac into the District of Columbia. I feel it necessary to remind you that this was the day before Independence Day. It was the dress rehearsal day for the big festivities, and the city was packed. My dad wasn't too happy about having to navigate through the traffic, although we did get to see several of the monuments and a close-up view of the White House. Other than the stress caused by having to drive through the mess, I'm sure every one did get some enjoyment out of the quick detour through our Washingotn.
Within minutes my dad had gotten us back on the parkway, and towards I-70 and Frederick. It is at this point we lapsed into our Illinois sense of distance, not understanding that Frederick was as close to Washington and Gettysburg as Ridge Farm is to Champaign and Danville. Not only is Frederick close to both places, but also it is right on I-70, a major conduit between Washington and pretty much everywhere west of there. So instead of expecting everywhere to be full, or reserving a room in advance, we strolled up to our usual chain motel choices and tried our luck. Place after place our luck was a failure, until the clerk at one of the hotels gave us a possible choice: The Frederick Inn.
Therefore, we drove over to The Frederick Inn, our one hope for the night. And what luck, they had a room. Sure, it was in the part of the hotel that wasn't remodeled, and the place looked a bit weathered. But we had a room for the night. Yeah, the beds were tiny, the carpet looked like it was pieced together from stained samples, and the non-carpeted floor wasn't much better. At least we had a place to rest for the night, even if I felt compelled to sleep in the van instead of the room. My parents were right in convincing me to stay in the room, although not by much.
Continue with Part 2
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)