Lots of Monkeys

In all the rush, I never even said goodbye to my parents.  I arrived at National alone.  It was the old National then–an unused practically abandoned airport with an outdated terminal, even though it’s an entirely different airport, I still call it national.

The humidity was a shock, having lived in California for my entire life.  I shed my jacket as soon as I got outside.

I took a cab in to the city, marveled at the Potomac at night and the Kennedy center reflected on the black river.  I still hold that the District is the most majestic in the evening, either lit up by fireworks or by conventional means.  DC, when I picture it, and describe it to others, is always in the evening.

I saw the the washington monument and the white house and a few executive buildings.  Later, I would find out that the cab driver took the long way around so that he could charge me more zones.

And thus began my college education. Continue reading →

College really wasn’t an option for me.

Not that it was an impossible thing.  My parents were going to make sure that I went to college.  It was not an option in the fact that it was always assumed that I was going to go.  It was only a matter of where.

Even though we didn’t have enough money to repair a water heater, my parents were going to send me to a private college, not a state school.

That could have saved us some money, but I ended up applying to ridiculous colleges, like Georgetown.  I never really had my heart set on anywhere, so I employed the “shotgun” approach to my application process.  My SAT scores and high school transcript were enough to get me accepted everywhere.

I never had my heart set on anywhere.  Privately, what I was looking for was a way to make the financial burden easier on my parents.  My ultimate decision was American University, primarily because they offered me a good scholarship.

I joked that American was the furthest away from my parents I could get without leaving the country.

My parents said that they could take care of the rest and I had to believe them.

The next thing I know, I’m hopping a plane to Washington DC.

Well, more accurately, I’m late running through a San Diego airport terminal, to board a plane to Washington DC.  This occurred in 1993.  This is an alternate history America where they could open a door after it’s already been shut to let a last minute passenger in.

Even a brown one.