Part II: And That My Friends Is The Rest Of The Story

     Okay.  So, where was I?  Ah yes, we had just figured out that our car wasn’t about to make like a marshmallow and roast.

     So we went happily driving along the route that Maggie (we’ve named our Magellan GPS system Maggie) dictated.  And when we arrived at the Interstate entrance we saw a law enforcement vehicle blocking the on-ramp just like there had been in the podunk town.  The only difference is that we were the only waiters at this entrance, as opposed to the massive line of motorists waiting at the first on-ramp.

     We first approached the officer and asked if he had any inkling as to when the Interstate might open up.  He didn’t.  Nor did he want to venture a guess because, as he put it, “it could be five minutes or five hours.” 

     Awesome.

     The only sign of life in the area was a convenience store/restaurant.  I wish I could be more specific here but the signage posted outside of said restaurant read, “RESTAURANT.”  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  Not knowing how long we’d be stuck I contemplated patronizing the RESTAURANT.  We cruised slowly by and, from the safety of our four door sedan, cased the place.  The fact that there was nary a diner to be seen wasn’t as much a deterrent as the fact that the RESTAURANT did not have its own entrance.  To gain admittance to the RESTAURANT one had to go through the convenience store.  Seeing as how I have a policy against eating anywhere that shares a bathroom with a gas station we decided to decline.  My bladder, however, required immediate attention so I did pay a quick visit to the ladies room at the convenience store.  I fully expected it to be one of those bathrooms that facilitates just one at a time while a hoard forms in the hallway and without fail some brainiac comes up and rattles the doorknob just to be sure.  It wasn’t that sort of ladies room though.  Upon entering I found a row of stalls and chose the second one from the door because that’s what I always do if availability allows.  You can imagine my surprise when I shut the door behind me and found not one but two commodes there, placed squarely side by side. 

     I don’t even want to know.

     I felt a tad guilty tinkling and running without even purchasing a pack of gum but I got over it quickly enough.  As I was fighting the raging wind to open my car door without it knocking me cold I noticed that the policemen were driving away and abandoning their posts at the on-ramp.  The last one to leave noticed us waiting there and stopped next to our car.  When Jeff rolled down the window he told us that the Interstate was open for westbound vehicles.  And that proclamation, my friends, was music to my ears.

     It was a bit eerie on the Interstate seeing as how there wasn’t a single car or truck anywhere to be seen.  We assumed we must have gotten quite a head start on traffic.  But about fifteen miles or so into the journey we happened upon a tow truck cleaning up the remnants of an overturned semi truck.  The remaining wreckage took up both lanes of the road and our presence there raised a few eyebrows.  Not looking a gift-horse in the mouth though we simply went around the accident, nonchalantly offroading just a tad to get by.

     Some quick calculations told us that it would be nearly ten at night before we got home so we thought it best to try to find something to eat in the next town we came to.  Now if you’ve been reading my blog for awhile then you know that fast food, by any other name, is not my thang.  So when we came upon a Pizza Hut I weighed it against the Taco Bell/KFC place and decided to go with the pizza.  Not that Pizza Hut counts as real pizza, but at this point in my day I was too exhausted to split hairs.

     You can imagine how I was pleasantly surprised to see wine offered on the Pizza Hut menu.  Normally I would scoff and turn up my nose but after the doozie of a day I’d just endured i threw caution to the wind and ordered a glass of the two dollar and twenty-five cent per glass good stuff.  Of course the server looked at me as though I’d asked for Fillet Mignon.  I pointed to the menu where it clearly stated wine by the glass, but she wasn’t fazed.  We have Bud or Bud Light.  Alrighty then, no boxed wine for me.  I made do with Pepsi.

     After filling ourselves with a greasy concoction of fake, stringy cheese and saltine crackeresque crust we indulged in a family order of cinnasticks.  Whatever.  Nutritional value is totally overrated anyhow.

     When we got back into the car for our last 60 mile stretch things seemed to return to normal.  The kids drifted off to sleep in the backseat and I dreamed longingly of my head coming to rest on my pillow at home.  As I gazed out the window I noticed a bizarre orange glow snaking through the mountains.  It was dark so I couldn’t tell for certain but it looked like fire.  I had to roll down the window and take a big ‘ol whiff to confirm that it was indeed fire.  Fire that seemed to go on and on for miles.  Being the nosey passerby model citizen I am I did my civic duty and called 911.  Ah, but it wasn’t my day to be a hero as someone else had already informed the powers that be of the situation.  The 911 operator did inform me that there were two fires burning in the mountains outside of our little desert city, likely sparked by lightning.  Pffft.  Lightning.  You think that’s impressive?  Let’s talk haboobs lady.

     After the day we had I half expected to find that a UFO had crash landed in our backyard while we were away.  Much to my delight though we found no such thing upon our return home.  We quickly bathed the kids and ourselves (we couldn’t very well crawl into bed covered in dust now could we) and slipped into the comfort of our beds.  And that, my friends, was one doozie of a day.

     It was worth it though; we got our Cassie back.