Playing The Field

I love me my field trips.

I loved them as a kid.

And I really love them as a parent.

And no, they don't all need to be eight days in Washington DC, like the last one.

Yes, they won't all be eight days in Washington DC, like the last one.

But I’ll go anywhere.

I love riding on the bus with the kids.

Just listening to them talk.

Because they do in fact say the darndest things.

In DC, one of the chaperone moms told her daughter... “I loved shopping at Christmas this year.  There was no snow.”

To which the child responded, “you did all of your shopping online.”

Kids won’t let you get away with anything.

And as a chaperone it was our job to return the favor.

Exhibit A -- we had a 7/11 right next to our hotel.

And every night we'd head over there with the kids to get them snacks.

The last night of the trip all the boys wanted to stay up all night.

Of course they did.

They are boys.

And for just a couple of bucks these 14 year olds could buy five hours worth of energy.

In a tiny little bottle.

So they tried.

One by one.

And one by one my old fashioned Jewish guilt stopped each of them.

There was this one boy, whose mom was on the trip with us.

But not at 7/11 with us.

I said, "would your mom let you have that?"

"Um."

"No."

"Well then put it back."

Which he did.

If it was only... always that easy.

Recently I went with my son and his sixth grade class on a field trip to the local aquarium.

It’s a very cool aquarium with a bunch of cool looking fish.

And a Bengal Tiger.

Really?

Not sure why a tiger would be in an aquarium?

Me neither. 

But we still enjoyed this trip.

Every step of the way.

We enjoyed it when one of the boys claimed he got bit by the sting ray in the petting pool.

Of course he did.

He’s a boy.

We enjoyed it when a bunch of kids stood close to the tank so they could get sprayed by the excess water.

So they could smell like excess fish tank water all day.

Of course they did.

Actually I have to give them a little mulligan on that one.

My friend Phil and I once sat in the front row at the Shamu show at Sea World so we could get drenched.

Drenched with Shamu’s pee water.

We later realized.

Smooth move on that one.

Well our day at the aquarium concluded with a trip through one of the back doors.

Which led us into a back room.

Which is where we got a chance to dissect a squid.

Well, they got a chance to dissect the squid.

I got a chance to hide in the corner and do everything in my power to avoid throwing up.

Well it wasn’t quite that bad.

But dissecting is not my passion.

I can remember in like fourth grade I dissected a frog.

I think it was already dead.

Well, when we got to the stomach, I opened it up and a beetle popped out.

I think it was Ringo.

(Sorry, that was too easy.)

But really a beetle popped out of the stomach and into my hand.

And at that exact moment, my dissecting career ended.

Fast forward to this year.

The aquarium lady leading the dissection gave the kids all sorts of direction and information.

Did you know that a close cousin of the squid is a cuttlefish?

Did you know that a mollusk has a hard shell, soft body and suction foot?

Did you know that a squid has no spine?

I used to work for a guy like that.

I thought he was a weasel.

Turns out he was a mollusk.

Who knew?

I love those field trips.

Notes on a DC Scorecard

My week-long trek through the nation’s capital is over.

And what a long, spectacular trip it was.

Eight days.  Three states.  One district.  Of Columbia.

56 Hamburgers.

Perfect.

If school would’ve been this much fun when I went.

I might’ve went longer.

I learned so many things this week.

And not all of it was inside a museum.

I learned that there is a court higher than the Supreme Court.

It’s a basketball court.

On the roof of the building.

That’s what our tour guide told us.

He was really proud of that one.

The tour guide for our final day was Forrest Gump.

Not the real one.

But it could’ve been.

He used to be a cab driver in New York.

Once went running with the bulls in Spain.

Fought for our country in Panama.

And Serbia.

And Iraq.

Went to school with a famous sportscaster.

Not college.

Kindergarten.

And he told us that Theodore Roosevelt didn’t like being called Teddy.

Wait there’s more.

Taxes may be a hot subject on Capitol Hill.

But if you buy something at the Capitol Building Gift Shop, there is no tax.

It’s twue, it’s twue.

It’s a federal building.

And they don’t charge tax there.

Good news if you plan on committing a crime in the Maryland-Virginia-DC area.

They tell you how much it costs before you do it.

No seat belt?

No problem.  

If you get caught, that’ll cost you $50.

And two points on your record.

That’s what the sign said.

Feel like parking in a handicap spot.  

Then you should feel like coughing up $98.   

That’s what it costs.

You better yield for pedestrians too.

If not that’ll cost you “$100-$500”.

$100 TO $500? 

Do you pay by the height?

Spending a week with several dozen teenagers was another learning experience.

I learned that while four of out of five dentists may recommend Trident Gum.

Five out of five must be recommending braces.

Nearly every kid on this trip either had.

Has.

(Or I’m sure will have) the four-figure smile fixer.

I hadn’t seen this much metal in a mouth since my last Lil Wayne concert.

Now once you get those braces, that means no gum chewing.

Which is a good thing in DC.

We were greeted at every venue with the same list of demands:

No Food.

No Drinks.

No Gum.

When did Bubblelicious become one of America’s Most Wanted?

Hey, rules is rules.

But do you know how much extra cash these museums could rake in with a little out of the box marketing.

How ‘bout this....

Starbucks...

The official drink of the Declaration of Independence.

Come on, a guy wearing a George Washington wig serving up an “Americano” while you read the Bill of Rights.

You could sell that for at least $60.

No tax.

Of course.

Guiding Light

True story.

Our tour guide is one wild and crazy guy.

True story.

Every time -- or at least every other time he has told us a story the sentence ends with...

“True story.”

The first time I was thinking... “Wow, that’s a true story?  Cool.”

The 70th time.

That day.

It got to be very annoying.

And predictable.

As did his exclamation -- WRONG ANSWER.

Each time he asks a question about a random fact and one of our 8th graders gets it wrong.

He means no harm.

He’s just there to educate.

And entertain.

Not necessarily in that order.

You could see it from the first time we saw him.

He showed up wearing an American Flag.

Well it was a polo shirt.

That looked exactly like a flag.

Front and back.

With an American Flag hat.

Then he grabbed the mic.

And the rest is history.

I’m sure he uses the same jokes all the time.

But the problem is that he uses the same jokes all day.

There are certain jobs that certain people are just cut out for.

In college I delivered pizza.

In reality I would’ve been much better off eating pizza.

Tour guide -- not so much.

First of all you have to remember scripts.

And details.

I can’t remember any of that.

This guy has found his calling.

Do you know the first ever flavor of ice cream?

Vanilla?

WRONG ANSWER.

The right answer is tomato.

Our tour guide knows that.

He told us.

Did you know that DC stands for “Definitely Controversial?”

He told us.

Five times.

True story.

Did you know the Washington Monument is 555 feet tall.

Plus eight inches.

With 897 steps.

He does.

And that the monument has an aluminum cap on it.

He does.

Did you know that aluminum spelled backwards is... 

Muni Mula.

He does.

He told us.

Did you know our tour guide has been doing this since 1492?

He told us.

Four times!

True story.

He knows his nursery rhymes too.

Several times his phone has rang during his presentation.

And several times he answered...

“Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.”

With his mic open for all of us to hear.

One time when his phone rang he looked at his caller ID and told us it was the President.

The call ended with, “say hi to Michelle.”

Straight out of central casting.

To say this dude is quirky is like saying...

I don’t know what it’s like saying.

But this guy is a nut.

N-U-T.

True story.

Ray of Hope

A few years ago I saw a story that a large number of black baseball players didn’t know who Jackie Robinson was.

Large number?

There shouldn’t be any number.

Unbelievable to me.

But apparently true.

History has always been a favorite subject of mine.

But I am far from an expert.

On anything.

But I do know what I should know.

And I do respect what should be respected.

I’m thrilled to report the same can be said for the students on our school trip to Washington.

As we left the Lincoln Memorial we were greeted at the bottom of the steps by Ray.

Ray is a veteran.

A veteran of World War II.

There were a number of vets roaming around the grounds.

I’m not sure why.

But in our case he provided us with one of the highlights of the day.

It became story time pretty quickly.

And within seconds Ray had these kids in the palm of his hand.

Kids that could’ve been his great great grandkids.

And for 15 minutes his kids listened.

And asked questions.

And paid respect to a man that deserved respect.

Nobody left.

Nobody yawned.

Everyone listened.

Listened to Ray talk about how he spent his 19th birthday.

How he spent his 19th birthday in battle.

A 90-day battle where all but five of those days were fighting for his life.

“We didn’t shave or shower or change our clothes the entire time,” Ray said.

And then Ray showed us his Bronze Star Medal.

Awarded for bravery.

The fourth highest combat award of the U.S. Armed Forces.

And when those 15 minutes ended.

We had all won.