Wednesday: Let’s go along on Daddy’s work trip with him. Sure, why not? I mean there was that week in Florida, that was fun, right? Where we rented a car and played and took that air boat ride through the Everglades, and the water taxis, and the mahi mahi every night. We haven’t done that in ages. And it’s spring break week, and I asked for two days off, and Daddy’s headed to Tennessee, so let’s go.
Thursday: 7, as in the a.m., we have to leave? Are you kidding me? Jeez. Okay, ok, I’m up. Got your DVDs? We’re headed where? What state is that in? Oh, you’re dumping us off with a rental car, and we get to drive it to where? And you’ll meet us when? And there is what to do between here and there? By day’s end, Dylan and I are in Chattanooga, which I must say is a fine town. It has a waterfront. We got the best suite the hotel had.
Friday: Major traveler’s poo problem. I mean of the colon-blow variety. I felt all shiny and new after those hours on the john. Unfortunately, Daddy’s working and we have to hightail it outta town. Rental’s gone, and now me, weakened from losing half my weight and all my fluids, and Dylan have to be dropped off at a national park while he works. He says he’ll come back for us. I have a déjà vu feeling like I read this book. I think it’s a Flannery O’Connor short story, and you know what that means. Somebody’s gonna die, but not until there’s been a miraculous revelation.
He returns two hours later after I’ve wandered the park, which is a DRIVING park mind you, with Dylan on foot sans food or drink. We got the junior ranger book and have been busily trying to fill in the damn blanks so we can get our damn medal and badge. It’s important. It’s very boy scoutish feeling. It’s freaking desperation. There’s no comfort away from home when you’re sick, especially when you also have to walk for miles and pretend to like it. I don’t pretend well. I don’t suffer long. But we did it. I begged off to lie in the grass on occasion and tried to lie in the way too educational for me theater but the damn benches were made of wood. It was like a Parks & Recreation sit com episode. Ten employees but nothing to employ them with. If only they’d sold food and drink, give them something to do. Dave brought Saltines and Sprite on his return. Yes, he came back for us. After asking for ginger ale all day, I’ve learned Tennessee has never heard of such a drink. They are backward freaks like that, or maybe it’s just my attitude.
On to near Nashville that night. Yes, it turns out Daddy had no time for a little mini-vacation, a fact he kinda forgot to mention before signing us up to go along. Why did we come I ask again? Well I like you guys. I wish traveler’s poo on him.
I fall face first into the next hotel room bed while he goes to his next job. I awake to Dylan riding the rolling ottoman across the length of the room.
Saturday: Our day to do something and we’re too pooped to pop. Untrue, I’m totally unpooped for a week to come, but he’s a walking dead man. Turns out Dylan’s a great traveler—content to watch silly movies and laugh out loud. I say forgetabout Nashville, let’s go home. Except I have to drive. The whole way home. You know, this reminds me of something. Oh, yeah, I have sooo done this before. Yes, last time I was six months pregnant, leaving Arkansas for Raleigh, driving through the middle of the night on I-40 in fog. Going about 50 mph. Tennessee is one mile-ish state of being that I will not volunteer for again. But the day after you’ve felt so sick, you’re kinda on your game. I drove those 8 hours home and will do it again to get out of such a spring break. Anytime.