By the time the March finished, we were ridiculously cold and hungry, so we sought out a place to meet all of our needs. We ended up at this delightful pub in Chinatown that seemed very Hobbitish to me (no one else got that vibe, so maybe it’s just because I’m reading Lord of the Rings right now).
After we thawed out with soup and Guinness (for some, not me), we headed a couple blocks over to Old St. Mary’s for a Pontifical Mass sponsored by Juventutem Michigan.
The rest of our evening was pretty uneventful, unless you count the guy who jumped on the Metro tracks to retrieve his (totally smashed) cell phone after he dropped it. With less than two minutes until the next train’s arrival, I just about had a heart attack.
The next morning, some of our contingent woke up bright and early to go to our Diocesan Mass at another nearby parish. I had spent the night completely unable to get comfortable on the convent floor, and didn’t realize until morning that I had accidentally been laying on one of those plastic desk chair-rolling mats. Thus, it wasn’t too difficult for me to linger in “bed.”
Compared to the last time I attended this Mass (three years ago), attendance was way up. There were groups from pretty much every Catholic college and high school in the diocese, and a couple of the servers were former residents who are now Dominicans in D.C.
Based on the photos I came home with, I pretty much put away my camera after that, although I’d swear that someone took a photo of me with Kermit at the Smithsonian. Suffice it to say, we brunched here (salmon & cream cheese omelet – awesome!), walked it off by going to the Smithsonian, and then headed back to our host parish to pack up. The return trip went off without a hitch, except for the 10 or so students that we were unable to locate by departure time. We’re assuming that all of them either left the night before, or had cancelled at the last minute. In any case, I didn’t get any frantic calls on my emergency phone, so I think we did the right thing by leaving.
A mere 12 bus-hours later, and we were home! And since what I wore Sunday involved various pieces that I had been wearing for the previous four days, I didn’t want to inflict a photo on anyone.
And that, in a nutshell, was my experience of the March for Life. Go Irish! Save babies!