I was all for the winter wonderland, fairing much better than I did last year–bragging about it even, until today!
When we left Pennsylvania this morning, after a night of babysitting success and perhaps a little over confident, it was wet and a little slushy, but nothing to seemingly interfere with the 2 1/2 hour drive ahead of us.
Nevermind that there had been a winter storm warning for New York, only the direction we were driving. Ha! We don’t watch the news. I’d only read it on FB, so the gravity of said impending storm seemed little to none.
It was only after we had driven smoothly for an hour when I realized the “time to destination” had not moved that I began to question our decision of leaving PA so late.
Typically we are over-prepared with the snack game, but today we had a half bag of kale chips between us. We thought for a second about stopping at our favorite Indian joint in the Pokonos, but it was 11 AM and at that point roads were fine and we were still cruisin.
Elisa’s first meltdown happened shortly after. We were out of windshield washer fluid and periodically the windshield would completely white out with salt. Oddly, she wasn’t a fan of my method: follow car or preferably truck closely enough that they kick up some snow just right for me to clear the windshield. After three failed attempts to get me to exit, she finally confiscated my phone and turned off my audiobook.
A lovely wrinkly and round lady with a Grinch hat and great smile sold me the washer fluid. We were fast friends. She made working in a gas station seem like the best job on earth. I wish I’d asked her name.
We got back on the highway thinking all our problems were solved until we hit the snow. Still the “time to destination” had not moved on my GPS. Shit.
The roads were getting worse; my audiobook was putting me to sleep.
Hallelujah!! There’s a Chipotle!
It was as if angels had appeared. Until we had exited the vehicle, nearly dancing in the parking lot only to realize it was closed due to poor weather. Shit. Shit.
This is when my meltdown began. I announced, “I am having a meltdown!” Just so there was no confusion.
Time to destination: 1 hour 43 minutes. Ahhh!
We got back on the highway.
We crawled. I drove while Elisa worked. My audiobook at speed 1.5 moving faster than we were.
We finally passed a road I recognized in New Jersey. There’s a Whole Foods near there, I thought. But then just like that it was behind us. And not 5 more miles down the road we were nearly parked.
The “I should’ve gotten off at 278” game began. Elisa didn’t play. She just ignored me. I stewed.
Second meltdown: THE GPS ISN’T TALKING TO ME! Check and make sure there’s not another route, I barked.
Elisa took her time.
At the signs for Hoboken and Holland Tunnel, I’d had enough. I’m not driving anymore! I pulled the car over abruptly in a town I was sure we were lost in because the Mother F#$%Qn GPS wasn’t talking to me!
Elisa took the wheel.
I still stewed.
By the time we made it to Brooklyn nearly 4 1/2 hours later, we were barely talking and equally pitiful.
I suggested a burger and Elisa folded.
My mood lifted at the sight of the joint, but Elisa wasn’t renewed until the sweet potato fries were within reach.
We paid the bill right as school let out, naturally.
We went to the co-op and shopped in just the right amount of time that our Jewish neighborhood was littered with Purim trick or treaters, blizzard and all, when we got home and it took nearly 30 minutes to park the car.
The meltdowns though had ended with the burger. I was renewed and restored and could take on school bus traffic and trick or treat traffic. By now, it was all a trip–literally.
I watched EllenTube when we got home to pad the wounds and Elisa made cookies. We hugged in the kitchen and I asked could we start over.
And we did.
I leave you with this: What sends you into a meltdown city?
Kat Hurley is a transformational author, speaker and personal development coach, making over motivation @The Year of Magical Dreaming. For the full 411, visit kathurley.com, yo!