Well, the weather was touch and go, but we went down to DC. The weatherman kept asserting that the rain would stop long enough for the fireworks to go off, so we cancelled plans to hang out for any length of time (see the Folklife Festival or meander on TR Island, or, as I now call it, Analostan) and just decided to find a place to park and watch the show. We headed down GW parkway, found that the lot to Analostan was closed (even though we could SEE open spaces!), tried to go to Gravely Point–also closed. Grr. So we ended up just parking on the roof of the hourly lot at National Airport.
The view there was pretty good, but Steve scouted out the terminal and found an even better spot–one with a/c and a bathroom right near by. There was a lot of space for kids to run around and places for us to sit for the hour until the show and munch on sandwiches and carrots.
The rain mostly held off and the fireworks went on as scheduled. They were, as always VERY impressive, but we were too far away. It was a bit like watching it on TV. The kids enjoyed it, but I missed the loud booms and the feeling that those colorful stars might come right down on me. Maybe next time. As we were leaving, we were marvelling at the range of colors and nationalities around us. Japanese (Lily: Mommy! Those people look like they’re from Unbeatable Banzuke!), Indian, African, South American. That’s always the best part of heading closer to the city. You can stand in one place and hear 6 different languages. Love that. And where there are multiple languages, there are multiple ethnic groceries and restaurants. Yum. I’ll never understand the anti-immigrant bias. Who will make your empanandas, people? Your samosas? And if it wasn’t for immigrants, you people wouldn’t even have your stupid Olive Garden or even Taco Bell. Your fast food would be Toad-in-the-Hole and Spotted Dick. So shut up. And Happy Independence Day.