"Oakleys! Genuine Oakleys! Only Fifteen dollars!" The men on the street came out of no where, every building you exited they were there, ready and willing to attack. Five or six men in their late 20s or so would incessantly bother you, asking you again and again after you turned them down until you had no choice but to fork over your money in exchange for what was promised to be hundred dollar sunglasses for only fifteen. It was my eighth grade year and our class took a week trip to Washington D.C. As usual our bus driver was late picking us up, we were waiting in front of the state treasury. An erie hush comes over the group, them suddenly, "Hey give that back!" Jamie steals Jason's hat right off of his head, dangling it about a foot over his grasp, he jumps up and down frantically waving his arms above his head in hope that he might reach the Star Wars cap, but it's no use.
Jamie runs through the crowd with blatant disregard for whether she hit anyone who was in her way, giggling, Jason runs after her, never allowing the hat out of his sight.
"Give it back! Now!" he yelled so loud they both turned to look at our principle, he didn't hear.
"Five bucks!" she replied. Jason's face turned red and Jamie finally handed it over, laughing incessantly. All motion stops, "What is that?" Jamie inquires.
"I think it's those purple flowers," someone replied.
"Lilacs," I said, my mom is a big flower person. The sound of 15 or so kids inhaling the air around them was present. A gust of cool air sweeps over us, even though it was a sunny day, the day was coming to a close and was beginning to cool off, the fake Oakleys come off of faces and back onto foreheads of the kids who were gullible enough to pay fifteen dollars for the poorly made glasses. The Principle waddles over to us, his silver hair swept to one side, "the buses should be here in about another 15 minutes or so," his right hand grasping a teal, kidney-shaped walkie-talkie in one hand and a bag full of suveneirs in the other. A roaring engine is heard coming from behind us, the large "Blue Lake" bus approaches, a puff of dirty exhaust blows into our faces, the girl next to me coughs loudly. Thirty tired, irritated middle schoolers pile into the gray airplane-imitated seats of the bus, it smells strongly of the pink cleaner used on the floors and bathroom. Arguments arise over who has to sit in the seat next to the bathroom. The staticy sound of the T.V.s is heard it stings my ears, the movie Men in Black plays on the 14 inch screens, guarded by thin sheets of plastic around it's edges. Bodies drooped over the side of chairs as we headed back to the hotel.