This past weekend my mom and I flew out to Washington D.C. to watch my brother, Mike, graduate from American University! He got a JDMBA. Way to go Mikey! It was a blast to hang out with him, Alexis, and Ryder for a few days. Entirely too short, but wonderful.
We visited the Jefferson memorial, which I hadn't seen before. It's now one of my favorites. A very inspiring fellow. And we went paddleboating on the Potomic! We bought FBI t-shirts (something I've always wanted - it seems only right to get it in D.C.) and did a lot of playing with Ryder. We rolled down the makeshift slide in their living room, constructed using the inflatable mattress my mom was sleeping on. And we shot hoops too - Ryder at two and a half years old is already a better basketball player than I am, no joke. That kid's got skills.
This trip also included some of the most interesting airplane experiences I've ever had. On our flight from Denver to D.C. I sat next to a young man about my age. His name was Paul, and he had never met a Mormon before. I found it rather fun to explain my beliefs and way of life to him. He was a really neat guy - we talked the entire 4 hours of the flight! It was great. He's an inspiring entrepreneur, already running his own business and meeting with goverment officials. Wow. And super friendly. I definitely wouldn't mind being as driven and successful as he is. I'm pretty sure he's the first person I've ever really had to explain my Mormon-ism to as well, growing up in Utah and all where we're very common. I definitely enjoyed that experience.
On the way home was an infinitely less enjoyable experience. I've been known to get car sick, but it's been years since I've actually vomited. Well, the airplane was experiencing a lot of turbulence, and I was in the back of the plane. Four hours of being jiggled around like so much jello left my stomach less than happy with me. As we went in to land I started sweating and getting dizzy. I thought to myself, I should get one of those barf bags just in case. As luck would have it, no one on my row had one. That's when I passed out. The next thing I remember I was doubled over in my seat feeling significantly better. Then I heard my mom freaking out from her seat on a different row: "Jenny! Jenny! Are you okay?" And I saw the small yet very disgusting pile of vomit that made it's way onto my copy of Mockingjay, my pants, a bit of my shoe, and my backpack on the floor. Welp, there's a first time for everything. I can check "vomiting on a plane" off the list things I've never done before and will, hopefully, never do again. In Denver I loaded up on Dramamine and then spent the next flight, the drive home, and the next 12 hours in and out of consciousness. I still got slightly hot and dizzy when the second plane landed too. Sheesh. Oh well. The weekend was entirely worth it.
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