The "Crap, Now I Have a File with the Secret Service" post
or
"See Washington DC for almost $500" trip
With an extra bonus feature: "The Always Enjoyable Episode of Child Puke"
So like I said, Sarah, Steven, and Tommy wanted to see Washington DC. We've made this White House/Washington Monument/WW 2 Memorial/Lincoln Memorial/Reflecting Pool/Vietnam Wall plus Capitol Building/Smithsonian/Jefferson Memorial drive-by about half a dozen times now. We're kinda good at it, we've been joking about slapping a "Fleck Tour Services" sticker on the side of the van.
Saturday evening, Kyle puked. Sunday morning, Kyle puked. And he was just like Emily, Ally, and Kelly (oh she puked in the van while driving through Indiana on Wednesday) and was fine seconds after throwing up. So we figured we'd drive down to DC anyways and pack extra clothes and cleaning supplies.
We parked on H street (our easy to reach the back of the White House parking space) and were walking down the street when Zach said "Kyle's puking". And sure enough, Kyle was carrying his bucket and throwing up as he walked. He was totally fine with doing both at the same time, it was crazy. Just so you know I don't deserve a last minute entry in the "Worst Mom of 2006" award, I stayed in the van with him while the others stared at the world's most highly protected squirrels on the White House lawn.
A few minutes later, everyone piled back into the van and I turned onto 15th to get back on Constitution to go to our other "easy to reach the National Mall" parking space (Virginia Ave between 19th and 18th, it should be noted that these are all legal parking places). We were stopped at a light and a police man rode a bike in front of us. A second later a cop car was flashing his lights and siren behind us.
I think we were victims of vehicle profiling. (black 12 passenger GMC Savana with tinted windows)
I pulled over and the first thing the cop said was that our plates were on wrong. The stickers were on the front and they are suppose to be on the back. Oh... Give me a screw driver, I'll fix it. And then he wanted my license, registration, and proof of insurance. To make a long story shorter, I only had one (my license). Oh and the title to the van which I now know really shouldn't be in the van. I honestly thought the other stuff was in the van, I was so embarrassed that I couldn't find them.
The cop rambled off a bunch of offences he could ticket me for (gah, I don't even remember the individual ones but the total sum would have been $500) and then bugged Greg for awhile since the van is in his name and I was only driving. The cop also mentioned he was Secret Service (since we were right next to the White House) and asked if this was our most memorable visit to DC so far. More like most heart attack inducing.
By this point Sarah and I were about to tears (she was in the passenger seat, Greg, Tommy and Steven on the first bench seat, the kids in their seats on the other two benches). After several more minutes (and running my drivers license through whatever thing they use) he said he was going to be nice and let us go. He did mention how crazy it was to have 5 kids but it was good they were all in car seats (all the kids including Zach are still in boosters). I wrote my list of things to do and we were on our way again.
Ten minutes after we returned home, I had the plates on correctly and the registration and insurance card in the van (and the title out). So next time we're in DC, Secret Service guy named George, we'll be ready!
One picture: My super duper parallel parking job on the left side of the street on 18th.
Hope everyone has a safe and Secret Service-free New Years!
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