Remember back in September when I went on that awesome trip to Hawaii with my BFF? The only thing I wasn't looking forward to was flying. I am not afraid to fly. Flying is good. It's the crashing that is not so good. I am afraid to die in a firey plane crash and leave my family behind. My doctor prescribed me Xanax so I wouldn't die from anxiety. It was good.
On our latest excursion, I've discovered I hate driving maybe more than flying. At least with flying, the torture generally only lasts a few hours.
Day 1 of our driving trip went like this:
First stop: Wendy's, just around the corner from our house, for food. When we eat in the car we call it a "car picnic" and my kids love it. They were so excited to be having a car picnic. We were off to a great start! Happy kids is a must for an 18 hour drive, broken into two days. My husband ordered medium drinks for the kids. They were about 1/2 gallon each. My husband's comment was "Great, we'll be stopping for toilet breaks every hour." I got a large drink, but I have a bladder of steel and it's very rare that we make a pit stop for me.
Second stop: Bank ATM. Before we could get to the ATM, though, when turning into the bank, we hit a bump, which caused the youngest child's 1/2 gallon drink to bounce out of its cupholder and all over the van floor. Pit stop #1 and not because a child had to pee. I think I made my first comment about how I should have taken a Xanax before we left.
Finally on the road, we quickly run into bumper to bumper stopped traffic on the highway. What is usually a 20 minute drive to the Ohio/Kentucky border took just over an hour. I now make my second comment, but about my 473rd thought, that I should have taken a Xanax. Unfortunately, they were packed away and I couldn't get to them. My husand confirmed I had my muscle relaxers and that there would be enough for him to take six of them, but not while he was driving, of course. We are not afraid of prescription drugs in a time of need.
The entire drive to south of Atlanta (and then from Atlanta to Central Florida the next day) was bumper to bumper traffic. I drove for a few hours, but the rest of the time my husband drove. His driving is a lot different than mine. When I see brake lights ahead of me, I start to slow down in preparation of stopping. When he sees brake lights ahead of him? He speeds up - I guess he is in a hurry to slam into that car in front of us and he wants to be going good and fast so when we do slam into that car, there will be no doubt that it will slam into the car in front of it and so on. Someday, we are sure to make the news for causing a major pile up on the highway. I frequently say, "they are braking ahead." He frequently says, "I see that." I say, "Then why are you speeding up?" He never has an answer that makes me feel calm. On this trip, he actually accused me of being "jumpy" and making HIM nervous. I agree I was a little jumpy. That usually happens when my life flashes before my eyes.