I'm back in Philadelphia again for the weekend to celebrate Easter with my family and obviously, I'm thrilled. And per usual, my 300+ mile drive down the east coast yesterday sucked MAJOR bazungas. I've definitely experienced worse Boston to Philly trips -- like the time it took me nine and a half hours to drive what typically takes six and good GAH I thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown. But yesterday was no walk in the park.
First of all, I-95 was closed in Rhode Island. CLOSED. Kaputz. Cannot drive because it's been raining for the past week in New England and oh yeah half the state of the Lil' Rhody is under water. So my not so reliable GPS Cynthia took me some cockamamie route through bumbleburbs Rhode Island until the highway was finally opened again. Ten points for not peeing on myself this time though.
Then, of course, I hit intermittent traffic in every state I drove through. To top it off, the sun was shining (HALLELUJAH) but I was ROASTING in B's car because the air conditioner in his car broke TWO YEARS AGO and he refuses to get it fixed because do you think money just grows on trees? Open a window, woman. So I opened the windows but then I couldn't hear the music because I was driving on the highway so I turned the music up and then it was all just TOO LOUD so I rolled up the windows and and sweat through my shirt for the next six hours and BLERGH.
By the time I got off the highway, my t-shirt was soaked through, my butt was tingling, and I was so hungry I thought I was going to go into shock because I refuse to eat rest stop food because ICK. That said, I was slightly delirious and as I got closer to the town I grew up in, I started belting John Denver's "TAKE ME HOOO0000OOME COUNTRY ROOO000AAD TO THE PLAAAACE I BELOOO000NG," which is the song I always sing to myself when I'm on my way back to Philadelphia after a long time away.
It's incredibly ironic how much I enjoy this song considering he's singing about some backwater town in West Virginia, which is essentially my biggest nightmare. Guns, trucks, Rush Limbaugh on the radio, I'm giving myself hives just thinking about it. This may or may not stem back to the week after graduating high school, when all of my friends and I rented a house in the Outer Banks of North Carolina for two weeks. And for the second week of our stay, our next door neighbors were a group of boys from somewhere in the woods West Virginia. One night, they had wandered into our house for a party and let's just say things got slightly out of hand and a tad uncomfortable. As my friend Liz and I were herding them out our back door, one of them turned to us in his cut off jean shorts (shudder) smiled a huge, gap-toothed smile (shudder shudder), and proclaimed, a la "Deliverance," "when I come back I'm gonna make you girls SQUEEEEEL like a piggy." And then I shit my pants and had nightmares for weeks.
ANYWAY. I finally made it. The thought of Easter dinner -- which has always been one of my favorite dinners of the year -- powered me through yesterday's drive. But there will be no Easter ham for me this year. And when I reminded my mom of this, our conversation went like this ...
Me: Don't forget to have some vegetarian-friendly things for me to eat.
My mom: You're going to eat ham. I bet you will.
Me: Mom, I AM A VEGETARIAN. That means I DON'T EAT MEAT.
My mom: But you love ham.
Me: Yeah I did. Until I learned about it. I promise you, I will never eat ham again.
My mom: But you can on special occasions.
Me: Nope, doesn't work that way.
My Mom: Then I will be sure to eat extra for you and tell you how delicious it is with every bite. MMMMMMMM HAM.
Happy Easter to my Gentiles. Happy Passover to my Jews. And everyone have a FABULOUS weekend in the sun cause I don't know about you but I'm about ready to break out mah baving suit!