Home again...

Back in Brooklyn, after a too long journey. Funny--I've come to realize that even after years of traveling, many road trips, etc, I absolutely suck at driving. I don't mean just the actual driving--to anyone who's ever been in the car with me, this is apparently a foregone conclusion. What surprised me, however, is the realization that all the planning necessary for a succesful, fast trip is somehow impossible for me.

Take for instance, the following: I'm moving along 95 at a fast clip, enjoying my pace. Suddenly, I've really got to urinate, so I stop. I take note of the quantity of gas that remains in the tank--a little over a quarter tank. I'll wait, I figure, and fill up a bit later--I don't feel like stopping for long. Of course, I soon learn, a quarter tank isn't that much gas. And so, within 20 minutes or so, I've got to stop for gas, which involves leaving the highway (for quite a bit--one of those bullshit, supposedly conveniently close gas stations that turns out to be something like 4 miles off the highway). I pull off, get gas, pull right back on...GOING SOUTH!!! I'm heading back to Baltimore after I've just passed through the damned place! What a loser. So finally, I'm driving fast again, full tank of gas, and I get really, really, really sleepy. I'm having visions of driving into oncoming traffic, slowing down a bit, figuring that I'll be less dead at 60 mph than at 75. So, once again, I pull off the road for a coffee. I run in and run out, get back in my car, and get driving again. Now, fully caffeinated, I'm once again pushing 80, enjoying the feeling of eating the asphalt that remains between me and home. And now the coffee runs straight through me! It's like I'm drinking this delicious milky, hot beverage, and I'm enjoying it so much that in my excitement I forget to let it hit my stomach and instead choose to bypass all organs and tubes and stops along the way and deposit the stuff right in my bladder.

And so now, I'm nearly peeing in my pants, my bladder is sore to the touch, I'm bloated and uncomfortable. I pull off, pee, grab a bite to eat, and hit the road again. Moving again, I'm starting to get sleepy....

The cycle repeats itself too many times to recount on these pages. Needless to say, the drive was long and slow and a bit silly. I did however, get good NPR coverage, and I got to hear most of Garrison Keilor's Prairie Home Companion, which was fantastic as usual. I also stopped (on one of the many pee/eat/gas extravanganzas) at Maryland House, which is probably the best rest stop (I'm not sure why I love it so much) on the whole trip.

So, all in all, the trip home wasn't too bad. The thing is that trips home, well, they're all a bit melancholy, ambiguously emotional and all that. And so, I guess having to stop a lot for coffee and pee and eat and gas up isn't all that bad in the scheme of things. At least I got to hear some good radio.