The Washington Monument looked like a giant pencil stuck in the ground, blindingly white. We queued to go in and take the elevator; my ears were ringing as I went up. Looking out the window, the plaza's pool and Lincoln Hall looked like tiny squares. An old lady pointed into the distance, saying that was her state, but I couldn't really see anything. My legs were a little weak as I came down; walking around the base, I noticed the stone's color varied from top to bottom, darker above the waist. People were lying on the lawn sunbathing, and kites floated gently in the sky.