Some things in life are predictable. Some are not. They say death and taxes fit into the predictable mold. Kids, however, do not. Today was the first day of our five week vacation camping in a 25 foot trailer with the four kids and a dog.
We did everything just like we were supposed to do. After three days of packing, cleaning, laundering, and scheduling, we had the trailer packed and the route mapped out. To our surprise, we pulled out of the driveway only three minutes behind schedule. As our overloaded Suburban lumbered down the road dragging the helpless trailer behind, my wife and I reviewed our mental checklists of things we may have forgotten.
“Did you get your swimsuit?” she asked me.
“I got two,” I replied. “What about shaving cream? I didn’t pack any.”
“Don’t worry, I packed yours,” she said with a smug grin. After a few minutes we were satisfied that we had everything we needed.
“That’s strange,” I said as we slithered up the canyon leading out of the valley and toward the nearest interstate. “There are no cars coming down the hill.”
It soon became clear why the road was empty. Up ahead, we noticed a contingent of fire vehicles fighting a brush fire along the side of the road. The opposing lanes were closed. “Good thing we are heading north,” my wife said. And then it happened. All the planning in the world cannot compensate for the reality of living in Southern California traffic.
Without warning, all the cars around us came to a complete stand still. The cars heading southbound were forced to do u-turns in front of us, thus snarling the northbound lanes. My introverted wife was content to leave the windows up and hide in within the sanctity of the Burb. I, however, thought this would be a good time to strike up a conversation with the neighboring vehicles. Traffic was moving, albeit slowly. When a well dressed middle aged woman in a brand new Range Rover asked if she could cut in front of me so she would be in position to get on the freeway, I decided to see how badly she wanted the spot. “I take bribes,” I said.
“You can have my firstborn,” she shouted back through her open window. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I counted my own kids.
“I already have four. If that’s the best you can do, I guess I’ll just let you in,” I replied.
Once we finally got on the freeway, traffic was moving well and we were making up for lost time. Then it happened again. Traffic slowed to a crawl and we were stuck. This time it was a multi-car pile up on the 101 (so said the guy on the radio). By the time we got through that, it was the heart of rush hour and traffic again snarled. By this point, the baby is screaming and mom is doing her best to keep him quiet. “We’re not stopping,” I said as my wife crawled into the back seat to figure out how she could nurse an infant without unbuckling him. (It can be done!) Ahh, peace and quiet. Ahhhh! More traffic. But at least it is quiet.
The first leg of our trip was scheduled to last two and a half hours. Four hours later, we arrived at our destination. We’ll be here for a few days. Hopefully the rest of this trip goes better.
