One of my very favorite old hobbies was watching people proudly take photos of themselves with the hotel sign at the Old Post Office.
I wondered what it was that they were planning to do with the photo. Perhaps it was destined for a post on the Facebook: What I Did on My Summer Vacation to Our Nation’s Capital. Or maybe they printed it out at the drugstore and put it in a tasteful gilt frame from Home Goods, on a bookshelf surrounded by no books. It seemed not so much a touristic photo as much as a fulfillment of a promise, proof of a pilgrim’s progress.