Monday, October 18, 2010
I am red neck.
I also have red ears, a red triangle on my chest that my shirt didn't cover. The tip of my nose, not covered by my hat is also red -- not at all lovely but less painful today than yesterday. Spouse and I spent no more than an hour at Gravelly Point yesterday afternoon and that's what I came home with. It was a stupendously beautiful day and going down there just seemed like the right thing to do. Lots of young families also felt that way. Some even had beach umbrellas and one had one of those canopy things, a table and chairs. The attraction of Gravelly Point is not only the fact that it's right on the Potomac River where a channel cuts through for boats coming in and out of the Columbia Island Marina. The Point is also at the end of the north/south runway at National Airport. I'm guessing the distance from the runway to the water's edge at the Point is about the length of a football field. In other words, you're feet under the flight path of a busy airport! Planes were landing from the north yesterday, so the noise was somewhat tolerable. However, when they take off to the north, watch out!! Some fly so low it feels like you could touch them. I can even feel the pressure from their powerful jets in my chest. Then, within about 10 seconds or so, you feel the whoosh of wind that blows after them. I'm thinking this is the turbulence that takes out little planes flying to closely behind big jets -- it's strong! I'm probably a wimp when it comes to noise -- I cover me ears against it. There were lots of little kids and several babies down at the Point, including one adorable 12 week old I stopped to admire. I didn't see anyone else covering their ears -- even the little kids!! Between eardrum shattering music through ear buds and everyday noise like leaf blowers, snow blowers, motor cycles, sirens, etc. I suspect they'll have little hearing left by the time they reach 50. Wimpdom has it's positive side! I'll be able to hear the crack when I fall and break my hip after stumbling over a curb while flying my kite at the ripe old age of 93! Whoopee.