My tourist pals ...

The tourists are back. Lots of them. I have a love/hate relationship with tourists. It goes like this: I hate the obnoxious ones (the groups of 45 15-year-olds in matching neon t-shirts, for example). I love the non-obnoxious ones (the families in matching flag shirts, for example). Today on the Metro I sat behind a mom, a six- or seven-ish looking little boy and a four- or five-ish looking little girl. Their grandma sat on the row in front of them, and as we passed the Arlington Cemetery stop, she tried to explain to the little boy that President Kennedy was buried there. She asked him what he knew about presidents. He said he knew about President Applebee. His mom interpreted this as President Washington, chopping down the apple tree. He informed her that no, he did not mean the president who chopped down the apple tree, he meant President Applebee. Then he gave up and turned to his little sister, and said, "Mom, if she was the president, she would be the first girl president, right?" The mom replied yes, and said we needed a girl president to straighten things out in the world. Then the little boy said, "No, that would be a bad idea. A girl would say things that were uncalled for." He kept going, but unfortunately, I could not catch the rest of his theory ...