Not A Pedestrian Bridge-Personal Narrative Analysis

Not a Pedestrian Bridge

My family rarely goes on elaborate vacations for various reasons. For one, my family isn’t very wealthy. We get by, we just don’t have enough extra to spend Christmas in New York or summer in Europe or anything. Our trips are usually in state, going a couple hours away to volunteer at a summer camp, driving up to Mackinac Island (where my parents worked for a few tourist seasons), or to Petoskey for a soccer tournament. When we travel, it’s usually for a purpose. Our more elaborate destinations are still accessible by a five member family in a minivan, nowhere overseas, nowhere more than a 20 hour drive. Endless hours of planning, particularly by my mother and I (my mom calls me the “planner” of the family), go into each extensive trip to ensure we get as much out of our time, and money, as possible. However, on one warm Wednesday evening in Washington D.C., two days into our trip out east, things didn’t exactly go as planned.

was the second stop on the Thorn family’s spring break vacation of 2013. The day before we had visited the much anticipated (at least by myself) city of Hershey, Pennsylvania. We toured the chocolate factory and admired the kiss-shaped street lamps. Our Marriott hotel, into which we promptly checked in and stored our bags, resided across the river from the nation’s capital in Virginia. We spent our first afternoon in the city, walking through museums, lounging on the mall near the Washington monument, and taking pictures by the capitol building. At the end of the eventful day, when the spring air got chillier and the shadows got longer, we decided to make our way back to our hotel across the