Up ahead we could see the Capitol and a bunch of other Washington-y stuff. Mr. Barto got on the bus P.A. microphone and started pointing out historic things, but since he’s Mr. Barto he kept getting them wrong. Like he’d say, “Over here to the left you can see the Lincoln Memorial,” and Miss Rector would whisper something to him, and he’d say, “I mean the Jefferson Memorial.” Our hotel was a big grayish building called the Warren G. Harding Hotel. It was really old. I think it was the official hotel of every Washington class trip since the Civil War. The lobby had saggy sofas that looked like some kind of farm animals gave birth on them. One kid claimed he saw a rat heading into the coffee shop. But nobody really cared, because we were in a hotel and our parents weren’t. Mr. Barto gathered us all together to tell us he was expecting everybody to behave in a manner blah blah blah. Meanwhile Miss Rector got the room key cards from the guy at the front desk and handed them out.
What do You think about The Worst Class Trip Ever?
