Skrip - tyur' - i - ent: adj. Possessing the violent desire to write.


#139 In which our hero contemplates a roadtrip.

This weekend is the Fourth of July weekend. The Scientist and I tend to homebodies -- and not just because of the girls, we where really fairly slug-like before we had children -- but this weekend is different. We have big travel plans!

My in-laws live on the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland. Every couple of years they have a big summer party slash family reunion. It’s all The Scientist’s family, of course, so while it’s nice to meet people I’ve heard discussed over the diner table, it’s not the big draw for me. The big draw for me is the hard crabs.

Growing up in Ohio, my exposure to good, fresh seafood was limited. My idea of an excellent seafood dinner was “Super Summer Shrimp Days” at Red Lobster. But, once I started dating The Scientist I was treated to real seafood during our visits to see her parents… and I mean fresh, like, this crab was crawling along the seabed four hours ago fresh. Good stuff.

Now, as you can imagine, I didn’t know shit about eating hard crabs. At the first summer party I attended, I was handed a plate full of fresh, steaming hard crabs and a hammer. In situations like that, my general game plan is this:


And I got some results… but perhaps not the most elegant results. As my brother-in-law said, “Jesus, you murdered that poor crab.” Finally, the secret to eating hard crabs was revealed to me. Did you know you can open up those little fuckers just like opening the hood of your car? Tell me that’s not some sort of cosmic okay from the creator, saying, “Hells yes, eat all the crab you want!”

And there will also be ribs. Good Lord I like ribs.

Anyway, my considerable enthusiasm about the food is greatly tempered by the fact that we have to get there first. And we’re driving. For eight hours. The Scientist and I have taken this trip ourselves many times, and it’s no big deal. Most of it is long boring stretches of highway across Pennsylvania. But this will be the first time that we’re taking the girls.

I fear the worst.

My father-in-law gave us a little in-car DVD player, which I’m hoping will go a long way to keeping our girls entertained. At least Lily should watch it. But Macey is only one, so I’m afraid she isn’t going to be as captivated. She had a screaming fit most of the way home from Geauga Lake, which was only about 45 minutes in the car. I kept doing the math in my head:

1 screaming child X 8 hours = Daddy’s head fucking explodes

But, we’re as prepared as we can be. We have movies, we have toys and, if all else fails, we have Dramamine. The concern is that Lily and/or Macey may get carsick from watching a movie on a bumpy road, and as much as I’d hate to hear screaming for hours, the smell of kid-puke would stay in the car for days. Plus, if the drugs knock ‘em out, that’s a win-win, too.

Once we get there, all will be well. We leave Thursday afternoon, and we’ll come home on Monday. The Scientist and I both have the 4th off and, after all that driving, I’m sure we’ll need it to relax.

Or to scrub puke out of the seats.


Blogger Lil Kate said...

I wish you the best of luck! Best to get the girls used to long car trips while they're young. Then maybe they won't act like caged animals when they're older.

4:38 PM


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