A birthday staycation
We were bound for Niagara Falls. My roommate and I had never been, and this was her requested birthday celebration. Expedia pinpointed a hotel ensuring our comfort, just north of the Canadian border. Yahoo and Google both calculated the drive time at less than 8 hours, although the sites were still at odds regarding the route from our home, just outside Washington, DC.
Still to do: charge the camera batteries, pack a pair of jeans and one wool sweater. Surely it would be cold, but a quick glance at the weather forecast froze us in our tracks: Winter snow advisory for the entire Northeast. Impaired visions of weighted-down windshield wipers and sealed-shut car doors chilled our revved-up plans. The perfect storm was toppling our last-minute birthday getaway.
Crestfallen we dove deeper into the World Wide Web to find a toastier weekend vacation and turned up plenty of thrifty deals all north of the Mason-Dixon line. An extra hundred dollars could land us in sunny Florida, Jacksonville, that is. The prices increased as the latitude decreased. Two days in Key West cost more than two weeks in Zurich.
Admitting defeat at impromptu traipsing, we hung up the mouse and went to bed. My roommate would have to settle for cake and ice cream sans waterfalls and Canada. Reality settled in overnight, like a silent snowfall, and I awoke with a revelation. Washington, DC is a destination for travelers. Why not make it one for residents?
But travel was my roommate's first love. Chocolate was its only rival. If museums and politics were the meat and potatoes of DC, then we would partake in the capital's desserts.
Within seconds, Google, versatile mapping agent that it is, identified our top 10 picks for frozen dairy delights. Nothing says frosty creamy goodness like a winter storm warning.
In keeping with birthday tradition, cake also crept onto the radar. Strategy became imperative. From Friday afternoon to Sunday evening we'd take in the tastiest of DC's calorically dense desserts. My roommate was confident she could subsist on sugar alone, but I required additional sustenance. We'd have to find that along the way.
Still to do: charge the camera batteries, pack a pair of jeans and one wool sweater. Surely it would be cold, but a quick glance at the weather forecast froze us in our tracks: Winter snow advisory for the entire Northeast. Impaired visions of weighted-down windshield wipers and sealed-shut car doors chilled our revved-up plans. The perfect storm was toppling our last-minute birthday getaway.
Crestfallen we dove deeper into the World Wide Web to find a toastier weekend vacation and turned up plenty of thrifty deals all north of the Mason-Dixon line. An extra hundred dollars could land us in sunny Florida, Jacksonville, that is. The prices increased as the latitude decreased. Two days in Key West cost more than two weeks in Zurich.
Admitting defeat at impromptu traipsing, we hung up the mouse and went to bed. My roommate would have to settle for cake and ice cream sans waterfalls and Canada. Reality settled in overnight, like a silent snowfall, and I awoke with a revelation. Washington, DC is a destination for travelers. Why not make it one for residents?
But travel was my roommate's first love. Chocolate was its only rival. If museums and politics were the meat and potatoes of DC, then we would partake in the capital's desserts.
Within seconds, Google, versatile mapping agent that it is, identified our top 10 picks for frozen dairy delights. Nothing says frosty creamy goodness like a winter storm warning.
In keeping with birthday tradition, cake also crept onto the radar. Strategy became imperative. From Friday afternoon to Sunday evening we'd take in the tastiest of DC's calorically dense desserts. My roommate was confident she could subsist on sugar alone, but I required additional sustenance. We'd have to find that along the way.
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