the president’s own

2 Jun

Free things abound in the DC metro area.

Thank God.

Because without free things, This Girl would be bored out of her gourd.* Don’t get me wrong, paid things are very nice, too. But free is always a bonus.

So even though it was still a roasting day at 6 pm, we waited patiently in line for the gates to open at Wolftrap. The U.S. Marine Corps band (The President’s Own, it was noted in our program) would be starting at 8 o’clock, filling the air with the strains of Sousa and…other…people who wrote marching-like, patriotic tunes.

We walked through the gates finally a little after 6:30, beelining for the shade in the corner of the venue, spreading out a couple blankets, a cooler of beer, cheese, bread, hummus and pita chips. We ate and drank as the sun went down, watching the lawn section of Wolftrap fill in with person upon person, families out celebrating the weekend, celebrating that they wouldn’t have to go to work the next day.

And believe me, there were many people who were thankful they didn’t have to go to work the next day. Many.

It was dusky and lovely when the USMC band began to play, and we clapped along, swinging our arms like we were leading a marching parade (and, okay, so maybe I continued doing that as we walked to the car later with a leftover baguette in hand) and in general reveling in the red, white, and blueness of it all. And maybe the Leinenkugel Summer Shandies. And pinot grigio. And brie.

Though for some attendees, an iced mocha did the trick

The band played beautifully, is what I’m trying to tell you. And maybe it’s the former band nerd-o in me, but I just love things like this. I don’t love the ants and bugs and flying things and overall itchy feeling that I get sometimes from sitting in the grass, but you know? It’s worth it.

Especially when there are tubas involved.

Or percussion instruments.

More cowbell!

Oh, who am I kidding? I just love marching bands.

Question: How do they keep their pants so white?

And Interwebers, seriously, the best part was yet to come. And no, I’m not talking about when they played the 1812 Overture, which is one of my favorite pieces of music. And NOT just because it’s played at every Notre Dame home game. Because if that were true, I’d hate the 1812 Overture. You would, too, if you your sisters used your head as landing pad for their crashing cymbal hands.



And not just piddly, rinky-dink fireworks, my friends. These fireworks? These were the good kind.

The kind that boom and flare and fire their way up into the sky and light it up brilliantly so that you have no other choice than to be all, “Ooooohhhh!” and “Ahhhhhh!”

Hey! Guess what?

It’s really hard to photograph fireworks.

I’m just putting that out there.

So instead of trying to show you more, I’ll just let your imagination go its own route. Don’t worry, 4th of July is just around the corner—there will be plenty more free fireworks for you to partake.

Though I can’t guarantee that you’ll also be able to see The President’s Own.

But if you’re out at Wolftrap, I’ll save you a seat on the blanket. I might even save you a Leiney.

*Thanks to The Swede, who was also bored out of his gourd, and was the one who found this event in the first place. Is resourceful, that one.


4 Responses to “the president’s own”

  1. calliope June 2, 2010 at 9:00 AM #

    Those are some amazing photos.

    We have to get together for coffee some day- please

    • mollystrz June 2, 2010 at 10:16 AM #

      Thank you!

      And, um, YES PLEASE!

  2. Megan (Best of Fates) June 2, 2010 at 9:44 AM #

    I’m so bummed I missed it. Though I was occupied at the time, doing absolutely nothing on my couch. And I love nun sightings – they make me feel all giddy inside… I don’t know why.

    • mollystrz June 2, 2010 at 10:16 AM #

      Is understandable, the draw of the couch. I’ve succumbed to it many, many a time…

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