Traveling alone with my two youngest children (ages 8 and 13) to Washington, D.C., recently wasn’t as difficult as I imagined.

In fact, it was surprisingly easy to consistently say, “No, the Bank of Mom is closed!”

Of course it was a bit exhausting to constantly negotiate the five W’s (who, what, when, where and why) with the mini-dictators.

I felt safe exploring the excellent museums and mall because the capitol police were everywhere — extremely visible even if they were just sitting in their air-conditioned patrol cars texting on their cell phones.

The sun might occasionally bake us here, but our air isn’t so thick and sweltering that you feel as though you’re wading through it in slow motion. Even the D.C. locals complained it was too hot!

Andrea didn’t want to be in the heat or in the blasting cold air museums. And she wanted to take cabs between buildings. Unless it involved the gift shop or butterfly exhibit, she wasn’t interested. Shane was a tiny bit more amiable, but food had to be attached or forget it.

The National Gallery of Art provided a kids’ “find this artwork” sheet, which fueled Shane’s natural competitiveness as he raced around the crowded galleries ahead of Andrea and me in order to win. While bumping into strangers, I realized that people are people no matter where you live. All the VIPs in D.C. are just like you and me. It’s human nature to act a certain way in certain situations.

I found that retail clerks in D.C. have similar hearing problems just like here in Federal Way. Take ordering a cheeseburger (just the way you want it) for an example. Finicky eaters only like ketchup on their bun. Why only ketchup and, more importantly, why is that so impossible to get? It’s always a test to see how well my request is heard and delivered.

At the McDonald’s in D.C., we were immediately bombarded with multiple cashiers asking in unison if we were ready to order. I mentally prepared my speech before stepping up to the third cash register. I should have noticed that there were two of them standing there. That is not a good sign if indeed training is involved. After attempting five times to order a hamburger patty with cheese, and a bun with just ketchup, I looked beseechingly at Shane for help. He was shaking his 13-year-old head, laughing out loud at me.

I began to have a surreal moment wondering if I had spoken English or babbled incoherently because the cashier (I couldn’t determine which one was in training) kept repeating what I had said the wrong way. It was the blind leading the blind. After 10 minutes (that is a lifetime in fast food years) we hedged away. I was so confused I didn’t even know what I had ordered or why McDonald’s didn’t take credit cards anymore. (They did, but apparently I was in the cash-only line).

Tentatively, I watched Andrea’s face as she peeled apart the bun to analyze it. I looked at Shane for support and again got nothing. Staring in stunned acknowledgement, I said, “Yes, hello mustard, two puny pickles and relish!” Isn’t it amazing how communication can break down so easily? How often do we listen politely to the conversation, while thinking about what we’re going to say next? Do you ask questions or deliver monologues?

I am as guilty of that behavior as the next person. I pledge for today to stop talking long enough to hear the words being directed at me. And to let them complete their sentence before saying “No!”

Federal Way resident Jan Hallahan is a writer and stay-at-home mom: Jan12160@yahoo.com.