Comment on site design, two weeks in: this makes our diaries look more patriotic and yet also crave Orange Sherbet. Yum.
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Three Days, Two Cities, 2,100 Miles, and a Couple Traffic Tickets (July 2003)
All right, so I promised you a story about one of my travels in 2003—actually, I managed to create it a week ago, and it wound up being so long, I made it into an essay on my personal blog space. You can read it in its entirety here, but here’s some background:
In the summer of 2003, we bought cars. My car, a base model 1997 Chevy Cavalier (no power anything, automatic transmission) was in Siler City, N.C., and I traveled by Greyhound and taxi to get there. Then I almost wrecked it, sleep driving. Nonetheless, I made it back home, and was having the time of my life. This is where tonight’s story begins. Enjoy!
Hey, life was good. At least, the part of my life where I did not need my mom’s car anymore. I had a relatively decent job, my own car, and what I thought at the time was a budding romance.
About a month later, however, the limits of friendship, and how far one should go for such friends, would be tested. At the time, I was smitten with a (then) former co-worker, who, as I’ve written here before, wasn’t all that into me. Still, she asked a favor: she wanted me to drive to where she was visiting family at the time; drive her back home, then drive back to where I picked her up.
In Knoxville. The one in Tennessee.
Therefore, on a Sunday morning (4:30am) in July of 2003, I set off on perhaps the most ridiculous—in logistical terms—adventures in my life. I left my home in Maryland, with tapes of Mary J. Blige, New Edition, and the aforementioned Vandross tape in tow, and literally—quite literally—sped off to Knoxville. Got there at noon, and then promptly got lost. 45 minutes of driving around in circles later; found the condominium where she was staying with family member, and went to sleep for 6 hours. Woke up, collected lady friend, drove back to Washington—oh, yeah…got pulled over by Virginia State Police for speeding (because, Invincible Me decided he could drive 81 MPH on I-81 at night, and survive because he did so in daylight hours).
We get back, but she has to go to some (guy’s) place—45 minute delay—drop her at home, back to Stately VeeCee Manor at 3:50am. That’s 18 hours driving out of 24, and might I add: I didn't sleep much before I left for Tennessee. I'm one of those travelers who is restless before the task. Actually, on the way to Knoxville, I stopped at the rest area on the border, to take a short nap--6 hours after I had left Maryland.
So, now that I'm home, I rest until Noon on Monday (paid vacation time off), and then she calls from D.C., awaiting pick-up and escort back to Tennessee.
Now my mother has a conniption, because she knew then—and I relatively know it now—that this was a might over the border of ridiculous. However, she acquiesces, because…she knows me well enough to know that, even though I’m obstinately imprudent at times; when I make a promise to someone to do something, I don’t intend to break it. And I wasn’t about to do so, here, because…smitten. Also, "Son will do what Son will do".
I go into D.C., and…guess who gets another ticket? Not for speeding this time; no, this for getting caught using the Illegal Shortcut off of the end of I-395 North, that spills onto side streets. It’s an emergency entrance, but commuters cheat there all the time. Nevertheless, this was the day I was caught. Also? This was the point where I wanted to abort the entire mission. Who gets two traffic citations in less than 12 hours, anyway? NASCAR drivers don’t even do that.
Finally get to her locale in Downtown D.C., and we slowly make our exit from the D.C. Metro area. As in, “rush hour flowing out of the District into Northern Virginia on I-66 in the effing afternoon” slow. After about a half dozen stops for bathroom breaks, fuel, and food, and enduring Ricky Martin, ABBA, and…Barry Manilow tunes...we arrive in Knoxville, 1:20am EDT. (For the record; I have nothing against these tunes, and me being eclectic, I didn’t mind the music. Nevertheless, and in all seriousness: this adventure is why I own and promote the use of SiriusXM radio, an iPod, and GPS Navigation devices with enable traffic features. This. All of this.)
I go in, sleep on couch until 11am. We say our goodbyes—she’s staying, I’m going home—and at 2pm, away I go, driving from there all the way back to Washington and Maryland in a cold front. That’s right, it rained the entire drive home. It rained in Roanoke, rained worse in Harrisonburg, and rained worst in the stretch from Front Royal to Manassas. Also? Tailgated by tractor-trailers on I-81. In the pouring rain.
Nonetheless…at 10:30pm, The Tennessee Mission—66 Hours, ~2,000 miles, two traffic citations, a disgruntled mom, and 30-35 songs you won’t be hearing in my car ever later—mercifully ended, upon my return from 7-Eleven with drink for family.
That's all for now. As for the Late Late Show, Joel McHale and comedian Greg Warren are the scheduled guests.