A Car Chase and A Cemetery

What do these two things have in common? Both were experienced on the same day.

I spent last weekend in Washington D.C. My brother lives in a nearby suburb and it was going to be a great opportunity spend some time with him and see some sights.

The first day was spent at the Smithsonian Museum of American History. NERD HEAVEN in a town that can effectively be referred to as the NERD UNIVERSE. Abraham Lincoln’s top hat was in the house, along with all of the hoods delicately placed over the heads of the people who conspired to assassinate him at the public hanging in which they were the guests of honor. It was nothing short of amazing.

Two days later, we went into Old Town Alexandria. We passed this really old church and stopped to look inside the gates. It was one of those old churches that have a cemetery on site. We examined that and then moved towards the side of the church that faced the street and had the front doors. This church, like many of the time, had two sets of front doors. Why? Because there was a separate entrance for the men and women. In this particular church, there are also two separate staircases inside each set of doors. In the eighteenth century, it was considered unseemly for a man to view a woman’s exposed ankles. So separate staircases were built so that when the men and women climbed the stairs to the upper level of the church, the men would be faced in the opposite direction so as not to view the ankles. Fascinating.

As we are pondering the concept of eighteenth century women’s ankles, all of a sudden we hear this loud roar of an engine. Before we know it, we are forced to jump back from the edge of the sidewalk because a white Econoline van is charging towards us.

The van is going approximately ninety miles an hour. Three police cruisers with full lights and sirens are following it. It is careening towards the heart of downtown Alexandria with no regard for red lights, crosswalks, or the people in them for that matter. This is a fatality waiting to happen.

We get in the car and follow what we know to be the path the van was taking before it moved out of sight. We are at any moment expecting to see a horrendous accident. We finally come upon the van several blocks down. There are fire trucks and ambulances along with several police cruisers at the scene of the van’s accident. At first glance, the scene looks very bad. The van has crashed into at least two cars. It soon becomes apparent; thankfully, that the only person this yahoo has hurt in this disaster is himself. He is given a police escort to the hospital in an ambulance. Bastard.

A drink is in order now.

We head towards the main drag in Alexandria and proceed to engage in a timeless ritual: the pub-crawl.

After several drinks (mostly water and diet coke for me) it is soon near midnight. The previous night we had tried to get to an old cemetery, but hadn’t made it. Tonight we were on our way.

Now would be a good time to own the fact that this was my idea. What a silly girl I am. What I had thought would be a great opportunity to take some cool photos of old headstones. This is a giant cemetery that has a Confederate soldier section as well. This wandering through the cemetery is a good idea—IN THE DAYLIGHT. The night version of the cemetery is very unsettling.

As we enter the cemetery it is eerily silent. Except for the rustling that we hear as we walk. When we stop, so does the noise. I tell myself that this is some squirrel with a ridiculously sick sense of humor that can sense my fear. I am immediately aware that this idea is one of the stupidest I have ever had. But apparently, I am now committed. I am informed that I must press on.

Crap.

Right about this time, I am informed that there is a ghost standing under the tree to my left. It is the silhouette of a man in a uniform and he puts his hand to his forehead and puts it back down. Then he is gone. As we move further into the cemetery, only the whites of my eyes illuminate the ground, as they are now as big as SAUCERS.

At this point I am no longer walking through the cemetery of my own free will. There is almost the need to carry me. I am being dragged.

There is a light over yonder. I am asked: “Would I like to go and check it out?”

NO @&%$-ING WAY.

At this point, this has been a very stressful day. A car chase and a visit to the cemetery are almost more than I can handle. And there is a decidedly cold feeling in the bottom of my chest, which I am becoming more and more convinced, is a ghost that is pissed off that I dared to walk in his final resting area in the first place.

I would like to go home please. As soon as possible. I wonder silently: “Is sprinting out of the cemetery disrespectful?”