The cab drove me through the streets of DC, I watched the passing monuments; the Washington, World War II, the National Library. We stopped in the middle of the road while a police car blocked the intersection.
“I could find another way Miss,” he said.
A minivan pulled in behind us, “I think we might be stuck for a while.”
So we waited.
“Someone important, perhaps the President!” he said.
I craned around to see more (eager tourist!) but could only make out the waving flags. We waited, the driver sighed deeply.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Well move, we’re only here for a little bit.”
Five minutes later, the police car let us through.
We pull up to Connecticut Street and I step out in front of the Mayflower Renaissance. “Do you take American Express?” I ask and flashed him my card. My bags were gone, whisked away by a speedy valet.
I walked through the brass doors and note the pictures on the wall, Kennedy and Jackie O, Roosevelt, Reagan.
Really, I think, who do you think you are?
Not quite sure……but if I am not quite sure, this isn’t a bad place to be not-quite-sure-in.
I am directed to the 10th floor and look for my room….1015.
I am greeted by five Secret Security guards installing something in a chandelier. They look at me suspiciously as I turn the corner.
It’s okay guys, I got it, I’m supposed to be here.
At the end of the hall I am greeted by a huge black door and a silver sign the reads ‘Presidential Suite’
I glance at my room number and realize that I read the card wrong…..1051 not 1015 and I sheepishly turn back around past the Secret Service people.
They smirk…..yeah you think you’re important but you’re not Presidential Suite important. You turn right back around there Missy.
I talk the talk, whip out the Amex with the greatest of ease, but still trying to walk the walk.
My non-presidential room is still lovely; stocked with flowers, Aveda products and a view of the city. I decide that if I have to work through the afternoon, a room service lunch would be fitting.
Before I left for DC, I dropped off food for one of our Supermom families. Samantha’s friend, Monster Max was in the PICU with a nasty virus.
Two worlds, both of which I am trying to find my place- moving through each, stopping, waiting, adjusting, ordering room service, moving to the next step, wondering what the next step will be……movement.