You're not allowed to bring cameras, bags, purses, food, drinks, pointed objects, personal grooming items (wha?), guns, fireworks, mace, martial arts weapons (excluding my hands of course - hiiya!) and knives on a White House tour. For some reason I don't understand myself, I told Colleen we couldn't even bring in sunglasses, although this was wrong and I was summarily chastised for it later. You can bring umbrellas. By this I assume they mean the non-spy, non-sharp tipped ones.
Our tour started at 10:30, and our emphatic instructions were to arrive 15 minutes early. We had to flash our ID's and then get the skunk-eye-once-over by the secret service guarding the White House sidewalk, but after that it was easy. We walked up a path to the East Wing of the White House and then just became part of the crowd, flowing along and peering into rooms (but never really entering any). It was like visiting the childhood home of Mark Twain. You could see the desk and bed but you couldn't flop down and take a nap.
We were a little lucky in that a tour guide-in-training was with a few people in front of us, so we listened in and got the skinny on each room we saw. That certainly beat the brief and skeletal pages of info that I had earlier grabbed from the interwebs.
So get this: we were walking through the East Room and our tour guide proxy mentioned that this room is used a lot for press conferences with a podium at the front for the speakers. GW Bush used to enter the room from the rear, flanked by his formal military guides, and the entire press corps would have to stand while he passed them in a slow, almost regal procession. Obama, on the other hand, enters the room from the front doors and comes in quickly, giving no time for anyone to stand up. He gets to business and then leaves. "The entire White House feels completely different now," said the guide.
There were secret service docents in every room answering questions, and they had a tremendous store of interesting facts about the White House. They were all very friendly and approachable, but I know if I had stepped over the thin fabric barrier between Us and Them, it would have been a blur of ninja moves ending with me shackled in a dark room staring at a picture of Dick Cheney.
The tour was only in the East Wing, and it wasn't really around any of the day-to-day work offices or the super secret iron room that was on "24." We did get to walk through the main White House entrance and out the North Portico, which was very nifty.
In all, we were there about an hour and a half, give or take. Right after, we did some quick walking to the American History Museum, home of Dorothy's ruby slippers, Julie Child's kitchen, and Stephen Colbert's portrait. We spent a dizzying short time at this museum before going to our third place of the day: The Holocaust Museum.
About this place I cannot say enough, so instead I'll say not much at all. But if you go to D.C., on whatever kind of trip, make time for this place. It is a soul wrenching place, but, I believe, ultimately a place of hope and remembrance. There are echoes here, if we listen closely. Echoes that, even today, still resonate.
I can't say if we enjoyed it because this isn't a place you enjoy. It's a place you understand. And it's a place you make promises, private oaths for humanity's future.
We needed a long walk after that, so we cut across the Mall and took the subway to Chinatown. From there, we turned a corner and then another until we got to the Spy Museum, five minutes before it closed. The kids were keen to go to the Spy Museum, probably because I oversold it, but they had tremendous fun nonetheless.
Although now that I think about it, Alex doesn't need any more tips for sneaking around the house while spying on people. He's already an expert.
