We awoke the next morning to sunshine and a chilly wind. After seriously considereing the potential rigors of the day's itinerary and we came to the conclusion that it would be unwise to proceed without (you guessed it) a substantial breakfast. Hey, it was complimentary at the hotel. The Old Curmudgeon doesn't get out much and so he was amazed that there is such a thing as a Starbuck's coffee machine that grinds the beans and brews a genuine cup o' Starbucks Joe right into the cup of your choice. What will they think of next? Deciding to save a few morsels for the other guests, Jerry and I finished up and returned to our room to suit up for another extended period of weather exposure. The lack of rain was considered a genuine blessing. We hiked through the lobby, out the front door and began the trek to the Vietnam War Memorial, near where we were to assemble prior to walking to the main gathering site. I thought it might be nice to arrive early and visit the memoriall. The Old Curmudgeon had visited this site a few years ago and found it to be a moving experien
ce. Imagine our surprise to arrive at the vicinity and find that we couldn't even get close! The entire area seemed to be cordoned off by orange snow fence. The snow fence entrance was clogged with "counter-protesters." Getting in without some kind of confrontation with leather-clad folks looked unlikely. To The Old Curmudgeon it looked something like a motorcycle gang rally. Many (if not most) of the counter-protesters seemed to be wearing biker garb. Some had "Rolling Thunder" emblazoned on the back of their jackets and vests. I later learned that this group actually is a motorcycle club of sorts (used by Don Rumsfeld as security for some appearances a la The Rolling Stones!). These folks were being held back by police and Marshals as they
pushed toward the area cordoned off for our group. One Marshal had his hands full trying to calm a few of these fellows who were threatening the gathering protesters. They were not a happy looking lot!We watched these interesting dynamics unfold as more marchers arrived. Eventually the word was quietly passed that it was time to walk to the "staging area", a much larger space with stage and PA system, from where we would begin our trek across to the Pentagon. The counter-protesters were a
ligned on both sides of the sidewalk. Some had large American flags attached to poles, held in a way that caused them to hang in front of us like curtains. Others stood in the middle of the sidewalk with arms folded. As Mr. Rogers might have said, "Can you say 'intimidation?' Sure, sure, I knew you could." All the while we were subjected to some of the most vile and obscene language The Old Curmudgeon has heard in quite a while. Nothing he has not heard before, mind you, but impressive in it's enthusiastic vulgarity. One clever gentleman had a sign that informed us that 'Peace Sucks." There were rhythmic chants of "U-S-A, U-S-A. etc." Others, who were not so loud told marchers that they had fought for their right to protest. The Curmudgeon believes 
that these men were the actual veterans in the larger group of counter-protesters. They had a good point. The Bill of Rights of the United States indicates that among our basic rights is the right "peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances." Others among this group informed us that we should thank a veteran for the freedom to march in this way. The Old Curmudgeon did thank them, although there seemed to be a certain amount of ambivalence being expressed in the instruction. One of the men on the sidelines asked if any had been in the military. This question sounded accusatory, rather than inquisitive, however, Jerry and a few others answered in the affirmative. As a matter of fact, there were several veterans groups represented among the marchers. Of course, there is no dichotomy here. To be inclined toward peace, or to bringing 
troops home is not to be against those troops or against one's country.After a short time we arrived at the staging area (around which there was an identical orange snow fence) and I must say it was some relief.
Beyond that, at moments it was like a trip back in time.
There were even some young "Flower Power" enthusiasts.
Several dog protesters were present
Members of the different factions had a quiet word with each other over the fence. See, we can get together.
People continued to arrive at the staging area in various sized groups. At last, the signal was given and we started to move away from the Lincoln Memorial and onto the bridge to Virginia.Now, here is where one may notice a theme developing. As we crossed the bridge we checked our watches and noted that if we were to catch our plane back home, we would need to get back to the hotel to
grab our stuff soon. Reluctantly, we peeled away from the mass of humanity moving forward. We retrieved our bags and made it to the airport on time -- only to find, after a while, that our flight was delayed, and eventually canceled because our flight crew was stranded in New York due to snow. There were no flights out the next day. It seemed we were in a bit of a pickle. We gathered into a long line at the service desk for USAir and hunkered down for what looked to be multiple hours of queuing. And then inspiration struck: why not mosey to the head of the line and hear what the airline representative was saying/offering to we stranded travelers. Using this technique we discovered that they were offering absolutely nothin' (say it again, now). We had been chatting with a couple of fellows who were on a layover in D.C. on their way to Indy from their Florida vacation. We hatched a plan. Within a few minutes Jerry had a rental car booked. Within an hour we were listening to the feminine voice of the Hertz GPS system talking us to the interstate. As we drove back home and talked in more detail, we learned
that one of the two gentlemen traveling with us was a Viet Nam veteran. We had several hours in the friendly confines of a Mercury Marquis to discuss perspectives and get to know one another. These fine gentlemen were each preparing for their wedding day, in which they were to marry a mother-daughter team. In one ceremonial pronouncement, they would become stepfather/stepson and in laws all at the same time. It's more than most of us can say we have accomplished.We arrived safely back home again in Indiana (etc.) on Sunday afternoon with memories to last a lifetime. The Old Curmudgeon is grateful for Jerry's invitation and the opportunity to tag along with such a seasoned traveler.
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Note: some of the photos (like the two above) are by Jerry.
