So we both woke up yesterday at 3:30, after sleeping on the world’s most unyielding bed. We were both stiff and groggy. I made myself a breakfast of my leftovers of Chicken Parmagiana and then Esteban ate what I couldn’t (Maggiano’s’ where one meal feeds four people). In retrospect, it was far too early in the morning to be eating’ let alone spicy Italian food.
I was seriously hoping that we could be home in time to watch Buffy at 7 pm.
I was seriously delusional.
We made excellent time out of Atlanta, binging on the excellent radio stations on last time. I declared that I wouldn’t mind living in Atlanta and Esteban countered that if it were July, I would have a different opinion and also that I make my decisions upon how livable the city is by how much I like the radio stations. Not so, I countered, it also has to have good stores for me to shop in. But that’s pretty much it in a nutshell.
We made one stop just outside of Gawgia at a convenience store. Esteban pulled the car up to the area in front of the door (it was 5:00 a.m’. still dark, no customers) and the convenience store cashier came over the loudspeaker and said ‘You cain’t park by ta doors&AO8AvwC9AO8AvwC9- move yer car!’ really meanly. Esteban moved the car while I used the bathroom but when I returned; he moved the car back in front of the store, daring the cashier to make the announcement again. Something about little sleep on a hard ass bed brings out the social change rebel in him. Finally, I pointed out that every second we sat there taunting this hick cashier was one more second we’d have to sit in the car and he grudgingly drove off.
We stopped at a Stuckey’s so I could get some Tums from the trunk (note to self: eat really bland foods at 3:30 a.m.). I also picked up some Goo Goo Clusters to bring to the folks back home. They must have thought that we were nuts, stopping into a Stuckey’s and buying two cases of candy bars, but whatever.
I snoozed a bit, thankfully through the barrage of Rock City and Ruby Falls signs that proliferate through that area. Then we switched drivers after the mountains of Tennessee (which scare the beejeezus out of me.) Then I drove and Esteban snored for several hours. We both agreed that the car seat combined with my down pillow was more comfortable than the bed and we should have just saved the $600 and slept in the parking lot. I got stuck in a traffic jam in Nashville at 7:00 a.m. I called my office at 8:00 a.m. and told them that I would be taking a day of vacation on Wednesday. My boss sounded a little disappointed, stating that my team really was excited for me to come back. She lobbied for a half-day, but I already knew that I’d need a day to recover and feel normal again. Then I popped in some CDs which Esteban had declared off limits. The nice thing about being the driver is that you have veto power over CD choice, thus with me driving, it was all about Abba and Nerf Herder.
I drove until I was starving for something solid, like eggs, and we needed gas again anyway. I pulled us over to a Cracker Barrel somewhere in lower Kentucky. Esteban was all sorts of grumpy about this’ being that I had simply made the decision and also that we weren’t just going to go to a drive through, but I was adamant. I wanted to stop moving for awhile.
I ordered some basic breakfast thing that came with grits. I was a little nervous about the grits but I’m adventurous. Esteban got a bacon cheeseburger.
Grits’ what can I say about grits’. Well, they reminded me that I’ve got a bucket of drywall mud in the garage I have to dispose of. I tried putting two packets of sugar into the grits but it just tasted like sweet paste. Maybe you have to be Southern. The biscuits were good though.
Oh, and score one for the Southern Experience checklist: when I was paying our bill, the cashier said, ‘Ya’ll come back now.’ That tickled the crap out of me. If she had added a ‘ya’hear?’ to the end, I may have just peed my pants with giddiness. Luckily Esteban wasn’t in earshot of this, because he would have said something like ‘Only if I have a gun pointed to my head’. He wasn’t in the best of spirits at that point.
Esteban drove at that point but didn’t want me to nap because he felt that if I slept, he would be more likely to nod off. So I tried to stay up. I did pretty well, but then I declared in Indiana that I was going to take a nap. He didn’t need my navigating skills at that point because we just had to go north on 65 for 500 miles or something, so I snoozed lightly while he sang along to a CD.
We hit Chicago at evening rush hour and decided to try a different route than what Map Quest had given us, opting for the 294 bypass which claimed that it would take us to Wisconsin. It probably took us the long way around, because it seemed like we were in Chicago for a lonnnng time, but at least we never came to a stand still on the highway, as we had the way down during morning rush hour.
And then we were back in Wisconsin. I made the sad realization that I would not be seeing Buffy. Esteban was mad at my bladder as he said he could set his watch by it. Every hour I had to pee. He cut off my fluids. Burgermeister.
We stopped north of Mequon again (this time driven to stop because Esteban needed to stretch’ NOT because of my bladder, although I did take that opportunity once more). We hopped back in the car and Esteban set the cruise to 79 and we were off. He estimated that we’d be home in an hourish.
Then I saw a car whip around in one of those turnoffs. It had the predatory nature of a shark. I said ‘That’s a cop.’ Esteban looked and said ‘Well, then we’re busted because I’m 14 miles over.’
It was a cop. We were busted.
I should bring up now that Esteban has a magical ability to get out of every cop encounter he has. Seriously. It pisses me off, actually. We’ve probably been pulled over the same amount of times, but every time, he walks away with a smile while I walk away with a ticket or more. Once he pulled out of a bar parking lot at 1 a.m. in the morning and stopped at a lighted intersection while a cop sat waiting on the other side. He stopped and then went, without waiting for the light to change. Did the cop check his blood alcohol? No (not that he would have found anything as he hadn’t been drinking). Did he give him a ticket? No. He just laughed at him. Whereas, if I even look cross-eyed at a cop, they pull me over. One time, I passed a cop on a highway. She was doing 50, the posted was 55 so I passed her doing 54. She pulled me over. And I got a ticket. I’m not even sure why. I think it was for wearing white after labor day. Another time, a cop pulled me over to yell at me for not cleaning the snow off my car after a snow storm. I am Weetabix: Cop Bait. There is just something about me that pisses cops off. But Esteban’ he’s their best friend.
We pulled over and the cop pops out. I swear to god, he was the cheeriest state trooper I’ve ever met. He said that he had clocked us at 79 and did we have a reason for speeding? Esteban said ‘I’m sorry, officer. We’ve been in the car since 3:30 this morning. We’re coming home from Atlanta.’ He asked to see Esteban’s drivers license. I invited the officer to check out the dead bugs on our front grill as proof. He laughed. We laughed. It was like a little cocktail party.
While the officer was back checking his license, Esteban was shrugging ‘Hey, I’ve been doing 80 the entire trip’ and I haven’t gotten a ticket in 13 years, so I guess I’m due.’ I assured him that it wasn’t a big deal but with his luck, he would probably get off with a warning. Esteban shook his head and said, ‘No way’ I was way over the limit. It’s going to be $249 and 6 points. I’m certain of it.’
Then he comes back, hands Esteban his license and says ‘This is a warning’ let’s keep it under 70, ok?’
‘Ok Officer, thank you Sir.’ Esteban said, tipping his hat to Officer Smiley.
‘See?’ I said when he left. Esteban was grinning so broadly I think the corners of his mouth were touching his ears. Naturally, if I had been driving, you wouldn’t be reading this entry because I’d be in jail, for possibly ending a sentence with a preposition. That man has this way with the police’ I just don’t get it. He’s untouchable.
Esteban set the cruise to 65 and we headed back northward. I popped in Pink Floyd’s ‘The Division Bell’, which I had forgotten that I liked, and promptly feel into a deep sleep, with my hand on Esteban’s knee, his hand covering mine. I woke up when we were exiting the highway a mile from our house.
The cats were very happy to see us. I had suspected that Tilly would have reverted to being a feral cat, but she was very clingy and needy. I think she’s finally gotten past her wild hellbeast stage. Well, maybe she’s just a wild hellbeast with abandonment issues. I wrote last night’s entry while I was getting used to not moving and Esteban checked his email.
Then we collapsed into our bed, with the luxuries such as a comfortable mattress, a bottom sheet that covers the entire mattress, and a blanket that covers both your feet and your shoulders. And we slept the sleep of the dead. It was lovely.
Next trip: we’re flying.
