Not the Smartest Thing I've Ever Done . . .

Decided to stretch my legs on Saturday, so I went on a 15-mile walk, from my home in American University Park to the King Street metro station in Alexandria, Virginia. A little bit about my hike, then about my stupidity.

It's Memorial Day weekend, and that means tourists, families, flag waving, and Rolling Thunder. I walked down Wisconsin Avenue, through Georgetown, to Washington Harbor. Pleasure craft (bikinis and beer) were parked four deep, tour boats were whisking out-of-towners (mostly families) out for an excursion on the Potomac. It looked like a couple thousand people were jammed into the harborside, including a gaggle of middle age men and women all sporting Hawaiian shirts. Everyone was having a good time.

I then walked to the Lincoln Memorial and the Vietnam Memorial. Parked on the far western reaches of the Mall were thousands of motorcycles, nearly all of them Harley-Davidsons, and contingents of riders, the Rolling Thunder folks, buzzing up and down Constitution Avenue. (Over on Twenty-Third Street, across from the State Department there were several big vans that had carried the motor bikes to Washington; so obviously not everyone wearing "'Nam" patches from far off California or New York, had biked in). Quite a few bikes sported big American and MIA (Missing-In-Action) flags. Lots of patriotism, black T-shirts, battle patches, and more than the usual amount of facial hair, leathery skin, tattoos, and pot bellies.

A panoramic view from the World War II Memorial westward toward the Lincoln Memorial gave a glimpse of the tens of thousands of people, many from immigrant families, out on the Mall, enjoying the day. I then walked past the Tidal Basin, the Jefferson Memorial, then across the Fourteenth Street Bridge and the Potomac River to Virginia. I then went southward on the bike and hiking path that takes people all the way down to Mt. Vernon. A lovely walk on the hiking path, except for the intrusion of nature. Swarms of gnats, about every hundred yards, greeted hikers, and must have caused havoc for bikers, many of whom surely inhaled their share of little fuzzy insects.

I stopped for a few moments at the base of National Airport's glidepath. There a couple hundred people, mostly kids and their fathers, were gathered to plane spot. Every ten minutes or so a plane would zoom perhaps a 100 feet above us as it approached the landing strip. Great fun, I guess, if you are a nine-year-old kid. (Yes, the official name of the airport is Reagan National, but no one consulted me on the name change, so I, like many other old Washingtonians who see no greatness and find little to celebrate in the name"Reagan," will simply call it "National.")

Now, let me confess about my stupidity. Since it was quite muggy on Saturday, I decided to begin my walk around 5:00 p.m. This was a lovely time of day, and by 7:00 p.m. the sun setting over the Mall and the Potomac was gorgeous. But it got far less gorgeous once I was south of National Airport. The walking path has no lighting, it follows the contours of the highway, but in many places, it is enveloped by trees and bushes. In many places for the next two miles of walking it was surreal: I can barely see the pathway (although it has a yellow dividing line for the bike lanes), I am blinded by on coming automobile headlights, and although I can't miss hearing the roar of Rolling Thunder contingents as they head off to some bars on King Street, I'm feeling pretty much alone on the pathway. (My friend Rich later reminded me that there have been assaults and even a murder in that area). Another factor, even in near pitch dark, about 8 or ten cyclist drove past, and I had to yell at them to make sure they saw me. Stupid.

Anyhow, by ten o'clock, five hours after I started, I ended up at the Alexandria King Street metro, took the train home, and tired, thirsty, and with aching feet, enjoyed a Negra Modelo and nacho chips at Guapo's Restaurant at the Tenleytown Metro stop, just a few blocks from home.