I awakened on Tuesday morning in a four-star hotel in Washington D.C. Maybe it was because I had gotten up early, but I quickly had the recognition that things weren’t as I expected. I had arrived in town late afternoon the day before.
I quickly discovered that I had stayed at the hotel before. However, I didn’t remember that I had been there until I saw it. It was a four-star hotel, but it was a little dated. From my perspective the room size was the best thing it had going for itself. The room was probably twice the size of most hotel rooms I’ve stayed in before and furnished with lots of furniture. The furnishings included a sofa, three club chairs, a coffee table and the rest of the things you would expect to find in a hotel room. The General wouldn’t have liked the room at all.
Part of it relates to the General’s newfound appreciation for contemptary or modern furniture design. At the end of the day, I still lean toward traditional style even though I’d opt for something very different if I lived on the fortieth floor of a high-rise overlooking Lake Michigan. In that setting contemporary of modern furniture would be perfect.
My hotel room near DuPont Circle in Washington was only eight stories tall. I was on the top floor. I made that request when I checked into the hotel with the promise that I would stay inside. I figure it helps if the person at the desk doesn’t think I’m looking for a quick exit. The windows didn’t reflect a floor to ceiling view and the translucent sheer panels over the windows flanked by draperies mostly blocked the view. There were several windows, but they were all narrow short windows and didn’t fit what I’d have preferred. The draperies were overdone. Tastefully done wouldn’t have been my description, but they looked okay. They just looked dated.
Yesterday morning, every fiber of my humanity was resistive to the recognition that it was wet outside. Yet despite the denial, even though the windows were covered with translucent sheers, I could see the raindrops on the windows of my hotel room. The light from inside the room was unforgiving. It really was raining outside.
I left Texas under the cover of heavy clouds and falling rain. I didn’t expect to find identical circumstances the following day fifteen hundred miles from home. After all, I was on my way to the nation’s capitol for an unplanned and unexpected quick trip? I had a short window of opportunity and I needed to make it count. I didn’t count on the rain.
Where the immediate thought came from I don’t know, but I audibly verbalized what I was thinking. I was thinking: “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain”. Does that line strike a chord with you as well? Professor Higgins used that line to help Eliza Doolittle learn to speak properly. The line is from the play Pygmalion. You may remember it from “My Fair Lady”. Professor Higgins bets that he can transform Eliza Doolittle into a refined lady, teaching her manners and how to speak properly. In order to teach her proper pronunciation of the long A (vowel) sound, he has her recite again and again: The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.
I heard the line first from my mother during my childhood years. She obviously had gotten it from the play. My Fair Lady didn’t become a movie until my childhood years were mostly gone. I remember as kids we’d say that line over and over and laugh. We were laughing because the line didn’t make any sense.
Somehow I didn’t expect rainy conditions in Washington D.C. After all, I had checked weather forecast for Washington D.C. on Sunday afternoon. Rain wasn’t in the forecast. So did I only look at the forecast for Monday or did I look at the forecast for Tuesday as well? I thought it was for both days, but I could be mistaken.
At first it was only drizzle or so I told myself. About noon when I was outside the Hart Senate Building on Capitol Hill with places to go and appointments to keep, it was more than drizzle. It was falling rain. Denial may be a wide river in Egypt, but it was time for me to man – up and recognized that I was going to be soaked to the bone if I didn’t change my modus of operandi. I needed an umbrella. Did I mention that Capitol Hill is not the place to look for a shopping center? You might find a three-ring circus there, but a place to shop seemed like a long shot.
With drops of water obscuring my vision through my glasses, I headed toward Union Station. Trust me, I was walking fast. It was no longer drizzle. It was raining. Did they have a place to purchase an umbrella, I didn’t know, but it was a good place to start. I found what I needed almost instantly. With umbrella in hand, it made my commute between buildings manageable.
Perhaps my biggest surprise was my inability to give the umbrella away to anyone once I got inside the Metro for the last time. I wasn’t taking it back to Texas with me. I offered the umbrella to several folks getting off the Metro. No one wanted it even though it was raining outside and they didn’t have an umbrella. At any rate, my mind was made up. I left the umbrella on the Metro when I got off at the airport. Hopefully someone is using it today.
All My Best!
Don