At the ripe age of 10 years old, I had the privilege of traveling to Washington D.C. with my family on summer vacation. Being the bratty pre-teen that I was, for most of the trip, all I cared about was how hot it was outside. There was a specific MELTdown at the National Archives building that I’d prefer to never think about again.
Even with sweat-induced rage pulsing through my veins at almost every hour of the day, I still managed to create one intense, positive memory.
