Last Weekend

I had a great weekend and I thought you should know! I took a trip out of town; I did some sightseeing, saw some friends and met a really nice Catholic man that is super hot!

Pretty good, right?

Now for the things that I am not telling you:

I volunteered to take four teenagers (the Core Four—or C4 for short) to Washington D.C. for the March for Life, a pro-life rally held once a year around the anniversary of the Roe v. Wade ruling to prayerfully protest abortion.

We started off on our journey early on Saturday morning and I was glad because these were kids that I have gotten to know the most since I have been here and I was looking forward to this trip. I was not, however, looking forward to the twelve hour bus ride while I was trying to fight off a cold. This was my fifth time going to the March and I usually fly when I go and stay with friends and make a vacation of the trip and stay about a week. I knew it would be different this time around but I was going to offer up the 12 hour bus ride and be OK with that. Because I was feeling kind of sick and didn’t know when I would have to opportunity to get hot tea, C4 and I stopped at the Starbucks and also used the bathroom. While we (meaning me) were savoring our last few minutes before being stuck on a bus with about 50 other people, I got a phone call wondering where we were. I thought we had a bit more time and apparently I was wrong.

As we drove up to the meeting place, we laughed that we were “that group.” You know that group, the one’s that are always late and/or unprepared and then somehow manage to inconvenience everyone? That may have been us. After we were situated on the bus and tripped over people, we were on our way and I was officially dying of sick.

The bus ride was fine enough, we watched movies, I talked to my bus buddy and just I started to get a bit restless of the fact that I couldn’t stretch out when we got stuck in a traffic jam on I-70 courtesy of a chemical spill adding three hours to our bus ride. It wasn’t so bad, because it was during this time that I saw him. The beautiful man accompanying his own group of teenagers on this journey. I am afraid to tell you this, but he’s a priest. A young priest, but a priest. I think I have a problem.

Because I was not trying to go to hell, I opted to sleep instead of ogling Father Hottie and vowed (he he) that I would not talk to him the entire trip. Somewhat because I didn’t want to be flirty, but mostly because I didn’t want to be a giggling idiot at every interaction.

After a good night’s sleep (once we arrived, of course) we had a pretty good weekend. C4 and I went to the Holocaust Museum and it was an incredible experience. I’d been before, but I was in eighth grade and though it had made an impact, being there just before the March made it hit home for the five of us as going through the museum reminded us that being pro-life means more than being anti-abortion. Here I am writing this almost a week after visiting and it is still with me. If you ever get the chance to visit the museum in DC, please do it, I really think that it will change your view of what it truly means to have a quality of life and open your eyes to what takes root and grows out of the poison seeds of propaganda.

After the sobering experience of the museum, we set out to meet up with friends of mine (and their baby that I couldn’t hold because I was sickL) and taught the kids how to ride the Metro! Even though it took at least ten minutes to teach everyone how to pay for tickets (we totally missed two trains), I was glad they got to have that experience. And on the way back, I had the honor of teaching the girls how to use their feminine wiles to get what they want.

I am not proud of it, but I needed to get the five of us to the Smithsonian Castle to meet our group and it was two miles away with only 5 minutes to spare. I flagged down a cab, leaned in and smiled real big while batting my eyes and asked him if he could possibly take five passengers. The answer is usually no, but since I know when to make being a pretty girl work for me, his answer was “where to?”

We didn’t make it on time (more like 10 minutes late) which only cemented our status of being “that group” because they couldn’t call the buses to get us unless everyone was there. (C4 and Lainie…we’re the bomb!) I should also tell you that while running to meeting place, I almost mowed down Father Hottie. While it was a good thing that I didn’t, should I go to confession because I kinda wondered what it would be like to fall on him? (On accident, of course)

chaperone and may have had some impact on their experience in DC, they really had an impact on mine. They are a great group of kids and I think knowing and interacting with them is starting to make moving here a bit more worth it.

I really enjoyed the time I spent with C4 over the weekend. I had the opportunity to feel like a teen again without feeling inappropriately immature and share my knowledge of public transit and effective flirting in order to get from here to there. It was also not so bad being “that group” even though we were late three other times including the time later in the weekend when the group leader came to us first to get lunches and somehow we still ended up at the back of the line and last on the bus. No one got mad at as and we started to take bets on just how late we were and wondered if the group leader would have smoke coming out of her ears by the time we actually got to the bus. For the record, she never did, but I am sure that the times we were on time for the bus she relaxed just a little. For those that know me, I am sure you are not surprised. I just can’t believe that I brought down America’s youth in my disregard for all things prompt.

I survived the bus, but never did get better and was so sick that I ended up with my own seat on the way home and a fever. That wasn’t so bad because it gave me a reason to talk to Father Hottie when he inquired about how I was feeling (better now that you’re here…) and we had a mini conversation. Like I predicted, I was a giggling idiot and had to avoid eye contact the rest of the trip.

I really should get help.

I really hope this affinity for men of the cloth goes away soon.