Stayed in a hotel in Alexandria one night when my nephew--who was 4 at the time--said something that totally cracked me up. As my sister was ready to take him back to the National Mall, he said, quite simply, "But I HATE the mall!"
But my better memory also occurred in Alexandria. I got together with a HS friend and sorta-kinda-girlfriend when we each were 31. All past stuff was long-since forgotten. Indeed, I had to set aside some current stuff, since she was writing a lot of stuff I passionately disagreed with in her role as policy analyst for the Heritage Foundation. But none of that mattered when we went out on a warm night and found a very cool busker on the streets downtown. He had gathered a crowd by playing wine glasses. He had a whole table of them and played them beautifully. He called up several people for an audience participation number, and I was among those called up. I followed his instructions for how to play a glass--each of us had one--and I kept that low note going as the underpinning for his rendition of the theme from Chariots of Fire.
My friend sat there smiling, watching while I played that note.
Old friends. Can't value them highly enough.