Better At Night

I’m clearly not a morning person. I meant to be out of the hotel in Baltimore by 10am. Earlier, so I could drop my father off at the airport. He left my delirious half-asleep self at 9 to take the shuttle van. I believe he woke me up to say goodbye, but that may very well have just been part of my dream. And if my father truly is a leprechaun, that would explain so much.

I escaped the hotel around noon, and didn’t arrive at the Natural History Museum until almost 2. I was horrified, as I’d never have time to do a speed run.

Speed run? Ha! The museum stays open late in the summer, and I still didn’t have time to see everything before they kicked us out at 7:30. However, after over 5 hours of hiking and backtracking through the museum, weaving around skeletons and dioramas, reading novels’ worth of descriptive text, and wishing to slaughter the uncountable masses of noisy children who flocked around me at waist height like a particularly virulent case of crabs, all on a bum ankle, I was done. Speed run? I couldn’t even finish one.

However, as a GOAT, I still had my mission. I needed to see the Lincoln Memorial at night. First, dinner. Surprisingly, there was no food to be found around the National Mall. No, the National Mall does not have a food court. It is the name of the large green park that the Smithsonian and monuments surround. After walking a few blocks and zigzagging the inane streets of D.C. I found and ate some Memphis-style BBQ. But when I went to ask how to get back to the National Mall, I was greeted with “The nearest mall is over in Arlington”.

Finding my own way back, no thanks to a cashier or a security guard, I began to hoof it to the Lincoln Memorial. The map failed to mention it’s about a mile away. Should be no problem for a hiker like me, especially with no pack, but the burning in my ankle said otherwise. I fear for my trip in Shenandoah. Still, I managed to make it to the Washington Monument, the World War II, Korean War, and Vietnam War memorials, and the Lincoln Memorial all on sheer willpower.

Everyone is familiar with the Lincoln Memorial; it’s on the back of your pennies. Most people too know the Vietnam memorial is an endless wall etched with the names of the dead. But the WWII and Korean monuments are new. The WWII is a pool, ringed by fountains, with two large fountains in the middle, all lit from underwater. Basically, the Bellagio with an aura of death. The pool was surrounded by pillars, one for each state and territory (even Guam), and amphitheater walls inscribed with quotes honoring the men, and quite notably the women, who served. Flashy, but hollow. The sign indicating it was authorized by Bush explained it.

Surprisingly, it was the Korean War, the war that didn’t have to happen and changed nothing, whose monument was most haunting. Bronze soldiers headed into battle, bathed in diffuse light and mist. Maybe in the day it looks tacky, but at night they seemed alive and scared. We ambled between them, and were part of the platoon. Everyone hushed, equal parts respectful and unnerved. Subtlety is key; this monument succeeded where the WWII had failed.

But, mission accomplished. I struck 4 memorials, and they truly are better at night. The statues of Lincoln and Washington’s penis seem bigger, grander at night. The Vietnam wall escapes your vision and seems to wind on forever with the names of the lost and stolen, and the Korean platoon pulls you back and turns you bronze.