Tuesday, July 9, 2013

The Return

     So our glorious summer vacation had to come to an end, but the laborious journey home still laid ahead, like a dreaded deadline.  The normal setting for these adventures involve yours truly, "Driving this boat." (That's a popular quote I use often), the better half candy-crushin' in the passenger seat, a young lady, with an extremely effective screech similar to a banshee or one of those sirens that make you crash your boat on a bunch of rocks, behind me watching the Power Rangers on her DVD deal, and finally #22 or #7 (depending on which sport you speak of) on the field #1 in your heart, the king brooder, the master of teen angst (even though he's not a teen yet) doing whatever it is that he does, I'm never really sure.  With all these ingredients, many interesting events are likely to occur.  Now....The Return.
     First of all, traffic on the Sunday after the 4th of July is completely insane.  I believe that vigilante justice should be the norm on the roads during days like this.  When there is a long string of cars in the fast lane and the same is present in the slow lane the following offenders should face immediate execution or at least some sort of humiliating public punishment:  #1) Those people who attempt to pass the long string of cars in the fast lane to move up a couple of car links should be drawn and quartered, and if you are one of those people; please come see me, and I will dispatch of you properly.  #2)  Those drivers who insist on driving in the fast lane slowly, and have no intention of following proper traffic laws or etiquette- and in some cases cause the above mentioned long string of cars.  These folks should be subject to a public flogging.  Unless, of course, these people are elderly.  I was raised to respect my elders, but they should not have a license to drive an automobile if their skills to do so are let's say, slipping a bit.  #3)  Anyone who cannot multi-task enough to talk on the phone and drive at the same time.  Please remember, You're not in the kitchen talking on the old cordless phone here.  Get off the road or face imprisonment.  That's just how I feel about this kind of stuff, and I believe if we were to follow this sort of code of conduct things would be much better.  This comes from a guy who once enforced traffic laws, so I have at least some standing in this matter.
     On a lighter note, I would absolutely love to meet the guy who invented "snacks" or "snack time" or whatever one calls it.  I would love to run across "John Q. Snackwell" so I could punch him in the throat.  The words, "Mom, can I have a snack?" are so common on the cross-country trip that I would hazard a guess that they occur every couple minutes or so.  I always use my standard answer, "No.", but my wife is more sensitive to the plight of these snack seekers.  She packs many different kinds of snacks, and is prepared to dole them out at the drop of a hat.  Now, I'm a big fan of the Skittle, and I absolutely love some sour gummy worms but this incessant pursuit of a snack needs to stop with the quickness.  These children of mine are addicted to the snack, and I for one believe it's time for an intervention.  I want them all to admit that they are powerless over the snack and begin to say the Serenity Prayer upon request.  Who am I kidding, as I sit here and type this out, I'm craving Raisinets.  They've won.  When in Rome.
     The overnight hotel stay is always interesting for the family (See Seymour Snorefest 2013)  We stopped just South of Indianapolis, Indiana this time at a Holiday Inn Express.  We have to stop somewhere that has a pool, and this is a prerequisite for my wife.  She wants the children to swim to have fun on the way home.  I'm opposed to this, because these same children have given me absolute H-E double hockey sticks from the backseat all day while I'm. "Driving this boat!"  But as is the case with these kind of things, my lovely wife wins out in the end.  So we all have to go swimming at the pool.  Luckily, we were behind schedule and food had to be obtained quickly due to being in the Eastern time zone, and we didn't stay in the pool for hours on end.  However, we didn't get out before I was goaded into a jumping football catch into the pool by my sole male heir.  This action produced water in my ear that wouldn't come out, and stopped up my ear canal.  I am prone to this happening, and also to "Swimmer's Ear."  This is probably the result of swimming in good ole "Fultondale Pool" every day during the summer growing up, but that's another story.  Well, I spent the rest of the night trying to get this water out of my ear, but again my wife the Boy Scout was prepared.  She brought some of that ear drying drop stuff.  Two good things happened from this malady, I finally understand what twerking is thanks to Miley Cyrus (that visual will never leave my head) and the hotel room television, and I avoided a "Just South of Indianapolis Snorefest 2013", because my one ear was stopped up and I laid on the one that was working properly.  I couldn't hear much of anything, and that was a good thing.
     Coming home to the Great State of Alabama is always sweet for me, but this time it was a little bit bitter-sweet because we all had so much fun in Wisconsin that we really didn't want to leave.  The water works from my youngest (Maddie), and Grandma made for an emotional goodbye, but the memories we made will last a lifetime.  I've said it before, but I feel a certain kinship with folks from Wisconsin, it's like they are my sister or brother from another mother.  Now it's back to the grind of child care, home upkeep, youth sports, higher education, graduate school exams, History Capstone Project research, math, science, blah, blah, but with the exception of math and science I like all those things a whole lot.  I reckon I'm a lucky fellow, even if I have issues with idiots driving, swimming just South of Indianapolis, twerking, and John Q. Snackwell.  It's good to be home.  Roll Tide.