We were meeting the other people at noon, and were a little late since the person I took with me is 101 years old. The sun was really beating down when we reached the parking lot of the complex (composed of several houses and an amazing Moorish garden), and the very old lady on my arm had already had it up to her back teeth by the time we got to the entrance. The whole party of grads had held up the tour till we staggered in (with almost a case of heat exhaustion in the case of my companion). Robert Byrd came to mind. We said we were sorry we'd made them all wait but we were just gonna head on back. I organized the opening of the huge, 800 year old wrought iron gates, almost rusted shut from lack of use, so I could bring the car around to the main house entrance to pick up my favorite wrinkly and headed off again to get the car.
When I got back she'd recovered, partly to do with the shade of the entrance portico and partly because everyone was making a fuss over her, but she liked the idea of a grand departure with everyone waving as much as that of seeing a cultural icon, so we came on back to town. I've had worse Independence Days.