Traveling Home: The Trip Back

Both Jeremy and I were very saddened when Jeremy's mom, Diane, called to let us know his grandmother, Blanche, had passed away. We quickly rounded everything up, and headed out the door--yes, driving, rather than flying back to Iowa. Yes, we weren't really thinking very well, which is typically only something I do. Fortunately, for my wonderful husband, he got to spend 22 hours in the car (one way--48-50 hours total) with me, his lovely wife, on our trek back. Unfortunately, for him, I am often not the best passenger (which is usually why I drive) and sometimes am prone to navigational "errors." I like to call them "scenic routes" (this is what my grandpa Wenger always referred to them as), but he just likes to shake his head and groan.

The first part of the trip started out very nice. As a passenger, I looked around at the beautiful, Georgia countryside, at little towns we hadn't yet explored, and then realized I had to pee. Okay, so me being an idyllic passenger lasted roughly one hour.

"Jeremy?"
"Yes?"
"I think I have to pee."
"Already? Didn't you go before we left?"
"Yes, but I think I have to pee again."
"You think? So that means you can wait another half hour or hour?"
"Umm, maybe I've progressed past the 'I think I have to pee stage' to the "I really have to pee soon stage," I replied, giving a sweet little grin to try and lessen his obvious displeasure.
"Then why didn't you just say you have to pee?"
"I was trying to break it to you gently."

Sigh from Jeremy, "Okay, we'll take the next exit and find a gas station then." We take the next exit and slowly meander through a sleepy little town. Unfortunately, this appeared to be the one town without a gas station. On the very far end of town, we finally spot one.

"Jeremy, isn't that gas station on the same road we exited off of to go into town?" I asked. Jeremy sighed again. It was. We had gone through the whole town for no reason at all.

Coming out of the gas station, feeling refreshed and armed with water, soda, and a chocolate milk, Jeremy just stared at me.

"We are not stopping every hour for you to go to the bathroom. We'll never make it back!"
"Yeah, but I was thirsty," I responded. "You don't want to have to stop for me to keep getting drinks, do you?" Another sigh. I had a feeling this might become a trend.

Off we go again. And soon I'm bored again. I would read in the car, but unfortunately, if I read too long, I get carsick. I'm pretty sure Jeremy didn't want to add extra stops for that, so I start developing ideas in my head. You see, there's all these blank billboards everywhere, emphatically calling out to me "Advertise Here!" or "Rent Me!" with phone numbers listed.

"I think I should rent a billboard" I tell Jeremy.
"Why would you want to rent a billboard?"
"Well, I could put up little messages for people stuck driving ."
"Why would you do that?"
"Cuz all the billboards are so boring. I mean really, who actually stops at Pete's Western Wear? And do places like McDonald's and Wendy's really need to advertise?"
"Probably not. But why do you need a billboard? What would you actually put on it?" I pondered this for a bit.
"I don't know. How about I Like Cheese?"
"Why would anyone want to read that?"
"Because it's different. Because it really doesn't say anything at all. Maybe it would get them thinking about cheeses they like or things they like. It would have to be more interesting than Circus Shoes or Jimmy Joe's Jamboree."
"I suppose."
"Or," I said, really getting into my idea, "I could put up thought provoking things for people to debate, like 'Whoppers are Better than Big Macs.' I could have the message changed every few weeks to something new!"
Jeremy looks at me. He doesn't say anything about the idea or how ridiculous it is. He just says, "Do you know how much it would cost to rent a billboard and have it changed every week?" Damn his logic.

Back to driving, driving, driving, driving. Through Georgia, through Alabama, me navigating. Then we get to Birmingham. It really wasn't ALL my fault. You see, the atlas I was using was three years old. It showed, in jagged form, a road that connected with the interstate--a more convenient route than meandering through the north side of Birmingham to catch the same road outside of town. I mean, really, three years later, who wouldn't expect the road to be finished. So I directed Jeremy down the interstate, and roughly 10 miles out of Birmingham, we both came to the conclusion that said road still did not exist. So, we decided to just take an exit and head in the general direction of the road we wanted. This would have been much easier if my out of date atlas actually showed more than just interstates and highways. I have to say, rural, northern Alabama was very beautiful, but the roads really do wind around. We finally stopped at a gas station to figure out where in the world we were (Not my idea--I hate stopping for directions, but Jeremy knew if he didn't, I'd have him meandering for hours through rural Alabama). Fortunately, we had somehow landed less than a mile from the intersection of the road we wanted. Am I an awesome navigator or what! (Okay, so Jeremy insists that I put in here that it was not me that navigated us to that point but him. I really do think he was going off my inspiration though).

By that time, the sun had almost set. We turned onto our road and gaudy, neon glowing signs greeted us on both sides. What in the world. I thought we had hit some sort of weird strip club alley. Neon palm trees, dinosaurs, miners, flashy pink, green, blue, and purple signs shone brightly in the night, each place packed. Then we took a closer look. It was Bingo! The next 10 miles was filled with extravagantly lit Bingo palaces (yes, some of them actually were castles). Despite the fact there had to be at least 50 of them, each place's parking lot was filled with cars. We stared in fascination. Was this where all of the elderly were now retiring? How could so many Bingo joints, on a strip of highway out in the middle of nowhere, all be successful? And why did they all look like strip clubs? Sadly (and I'm sure you're pondering the same questions), I have no answers. Also, I was a bit sad when we finally hit the next town because, once again, there was nothing to look at, especially since it was dark.

So, back to driving. Through the rest of Alabama, a chunk of Mississippi, and then Memphis, Tennessee. We finally hit Memphis, where we were supposed to switch interstates, at about one in the morning. We were both pretty tired at that point, and lets just say my navigational skill might have deteriorated a tad bit more. We were about 25 miles out of Memphis when I noticed, on an acceleration ramp, a sign that said Interstate 40. Interstate 40 runs east-west. We were supposed to be on 55, which ran north-south. Hmmm, something was definitely not right.

"Ummm, Jeremy. I think we're going the wrong direction."
"What? Why?"
"Well, I just saw a sign that said we were on 40." Several rather unsavory words then came out of Jeremy's mouth. And a sigh.
"I guess we'll just have to turn around and go back."
"But we're like a third of the way to Little Rock. Why don't we just take 40 to 35, then head north?" Jeremy just looked at me incredulously.
"Lisa, where does 40 intersect with 35?" I looked through the atlas and said matter-of-factly "Oklahoma City."
"So, you want me to go to Oklahoma City, then head north?"
"Sure!"
"Lisa, look at the map. Where is Oklahoma City? Where is Des Moines, Iowa?" I didn't even need to look at the map as it slowly dawned on my sleep-fogged mind.
"Oh," I said smally. "Maybe that's not the best route."
"You think?" Jeremy asked as he took the next exit. We turned around and made our way back toward Memphis. Definitely quicker to turn around than to take my proposed route. Another hour and a half of driving and we were in southern Missouri. By this point, it was like 3:30 in the morning (2:30 central time). Great, 4 hours of sleep, and we had to be up and on the road again. Jeremy got us a wake-up call and we flopped into bed.

Promptly at 6:30, the phone rang. I usually wake up very cheery and talkative. This time, I was cheery, but not really awake at all.

"Good morning," I happily slurred into the phone.
"It's a recording, isn't it," Jeremy laughed. Well, at least I put somebody in a good mood this morning.
"Ummm, yes," I said, putting the phone down. "I don't think I should be awake yet."
"Too bad. Hit the shower." What is this? Boot camp! I grumbled and stumbled through the dark, preparing for Travel Day 2. I groaned as the lyrics to "On the Road Again," popped into my head. Willie Nelson could not have been writing what he actually felt in that song. That or his on the road again involved a 5 minute trip to a convenience store.