A couple weeks ago the kids and I tagged along with my husband on a business trip. Five hours to Canada. Due to forgetting things, it took four attempts to leave our driveway. The last item being our passports, so thank Christ we remembered those.
We were lucky to get anywhere. We needed to maneuver around tornados, bolts of lightening and sheets of rain. If flaming hoops showed up at the Canadian border, I would not have been surprised.
My husband tailgates. Not the beer-guzzling, classy-hot-dog-in-the-parking-lot kind of tailgating. It's the ramming-our-car-into-another-car's bumper kind of tailgating. Trust me, I'd prefer a beer and hotdog. I always watch the drivers as we pass and more often than not, they flip the bird.
The hubbs refuses to believe he's a rude driver, so I have to come up with sarcastic ways to suggest he back out of the car's anus that is driving in front of us.
"Man, that guy should really get a colonoscopy. He has a polyp on the left side of his anus."
"Gross. Who are you talking about?"
"The driver in front of us. You are currently driving inside of his asshole."
"We must be getting really good gas mileage, that's awesome."
"Why? Why would you say that?"
"Because your front two wheels are literally on top of the car in front of us, forcing them to pull us all the way to Canada. I mean, I don't care, but I would think they would want us to remove our front tires from their skulls."
Then Parker gets worked up..."Who's skull are we on? Dad, what are doing? What's going on?"
After five hours of this banter, we arrived at our destination. Apparently Paige, the yougest, thought we drove to Spain. As we sat down for dinner, the server took our order and Paige yelled, "I had no idea the people in Canada speak ENGLISH! Wow!"
After one night of swimming and movies, we were back on the road. We relied on our GPS even though it drove us to a cornfield. At this point, we were verbally abusing our GPS. "Oh, I'd love to take a left, you piece of shit, but we don't want to drive into a cornfield! You have successfully driven us to a field of nothing, you no-good piece of junk." I was waiting for it to laugh at us. At some point the joke is on us, the idiots, for blindly following it right toward a cornfield. "Well maybe if we just get through the first few rows, there will be a road leading..." Christ.
We may have lost our minds on this trip, but we did gain some good memories and inside jokes that should carry us through the next year or two. Isn't that what it's all about? Memories and being able to laugh at ourselves? That's the good stuff.