Okay, so it’s been a bit, but I still went to D.C., so this is still valid.
We had a fun day. We had a tour of the Capitol building (and our guide was cuuuute, too. 20-year-old intern. Four years isn’t that big of an age gap, is it?), took a day tour of D.C., and took a night tour; which was stunning.
But, since we took the night tour, we were out late and couldn’t catch the shuttle back to our hotel. We had it under control, though–we were going to take the metro to the car garage we had strategically parked our car in that morning.
So, we have our night tour, right? Beautiful, relaxing. We get back to Union Station and hop on the train. We get directions from the man working the station that night; take the red line to Metro Station, transfer to the yellow line, and take that to Huntington’s.
Easy enough, right?
The first part of this plan goes off without a hitch. Red line: boarded. Yellow line: transferred to, sans-stinky man. We’re feeling pretty good about our metro-navigating ability.
However, then we came to King’s Station. It looks pretty dang familiar, but it’s one stop away from Huntington’s. All of us start to go, “Should we get off here? It looks right…”
Except it was night, so everything looked kinda different. Besides, the directions said Huntington’s. So, we stayed on the train.
That was the mistake.
See, King’s Stations was where we needed to get off–we were parked just across the street.
Instead, we followed the directions to Huntington’s–five miles away from our parked car.
It was midnight.
The metro was no longer running.
So, there we were: phones dead, five miles from our car, in pitch-black Arlington, Virginia, at 12:00 am.
Of the six of us, one was grumped-out, one was upset, and the other four of us were tired and rather subdued.
We wandered down the street, trying to find somewhere vaguely open so we wouldn’t have to continue to wander down the dark street in the wee hours.
We found this apartment building. It, obviously, was locked, but its foyer door was open.
Want to know what was in that foyer?
Light, a bench, and an outlet.
It was heaven-sent.
My cousin plugged in and started chargin’ up. My Nana called a taxi. (My cousins and I also learned about 4-1-1 that day. It was an educational evening).
Then, a dark shadow cast over our happy little foyer. The building’s security guard was walking toward us.
My cousin immediately started to explain our situation.
“Sorry, sorry, we just got off at the wrong stop and our phones were dead, so we came–”
The Security put out his hands and made the classic up-and-down calming gesture. “No, no, calm down. It’s fine. You stay here as long as you need. You get a ride?”
“Yes, our Nana called a taxi–”
“Okay, good. I want all of you to stay in here as long as you need. I don’t want any of you girls going outside, okay? Do you need any water or anything?”
“No, thank you.”
“Alright. Stay as long as you need. Evening, ladies.”
So, we stayed there and charged our phones. Called our parents and told them of our adventure. The taxi came, and my Nana and one of my cousins went and picked up our car and then came and got us.
When it was all said and done, we pulled out of there by 1:15 and were come by 2:00.
We slept in the next morning.