Moses counsels not to break the honourable bonds that love
has forged.
The priesthood interprets:
Stone them to death who dare to break the privatization of love.
We still sing this song of the perversion of love.
Thus the 'war' goes on.
Washington DC was in the middle of one of its traditional summer thunderstorms when we arrived. The Kennedy Center and Watergate buildings appeared like shadows in the rain. Our approach-path appeared to follow the Potomac River. For a while I wondered how the pilot would bring the aircraft down. Violent gusts and updrafts caused the plane to shake, almost bounce, and twist like a feather in the wind.
Naturally the pilot managed just fine. Landing in Washington in bad weather was actually nothing new for me and for the pilots, as were the thunderstorms in the Northeast and the pilots' landing in the worst of them. As always the landing had been executed with the ease that comes with years of experience. The moment the plane had been level the pilot simply let it plunk down. Everyone clapped as though this had been a great feat, which probably it hadn't been. I though, hadn't added to the applause. Not this time. I may have been the only person on the plane who didn't feel at ease once we were on the ground. Flashes of lightning illuminated the city airport as we taxied to the gate. Were they a foreboding?
"Should we take the bus or a cab?" I asked Ushi while we were waiting for the luggage. As it was, we didn't have to decide. Transportation had been provided for trade mission personnel and dependents. I came along as a dependent.
The trade mission was scheduled to last for four days and would end with a formal banquet to which Ushi had invited me and Sylvia. I had phoned home from Mexico, asking Sylvia to come to Washington. In order to make her time pleasant I booked us into the 'New' Hilton that had just opened near the mall, close to the new Art Gallery that Sylvia had always enjoyed visiting.
Sylvia arrived the next morning. Ushi and I went both out to the airport to meet her. Members of the trade mission had access to the State Department's car pool for the entire duration.
When Sylvia emerged from the crowd I was awe struck. What a sight! She wore a brand new dress, dark, elegant, and very feminine. The fabric was slightly patterned, apparently hand-painted. It was a gracefully styled dress of a widely flowing design. It suited her well. It suited her nature. I felt it might have been the sexiest dress in all of Washington. What a surprise! She hadn't bought a dress like this in years.
She smiled when she saw me. I didn't know quite what to expect. We embraced each other, and held the embrace for a long time. Then she noticed Ushi.
"You must be Heather," she said to her with the warmest smile.
Thank God she was still smiling! I felt like hugging her just for that.
"No, I'm not Heather," said Ushi. "Maybe I should wish I were," she replied. "I'm Ursula Fleischer, a journalist with the East German trade mission."
"Then it was you whom Pete met in East Germany, right?"
Ushi smiled and nodded. "If you only knew how terribly worried Pete was. He was scared telling you about Heather and me. He was afraid that you might be hurt by it."
"Oh, I have known this for two weeks, my dear," Sylvia replied. "A friend had called me from Washington, telling me that I have the greatest husband in the world who virtually exiled himself to Russia to somehow figure this thing out."
Ushi gave Sylvia a hug while we walked towards the baggage area.
Our limousine had a special parking stall outside the terminal. The driver was waiting for us. He politely opened the door and treated us like royalty. We drove into the city in style!
