The Perils Of Travelling Lise Style

So last Tuesday I pile into my co-workers car to drive to Hamilton for Church business meetings and yes it as boring as it sounds. The meetings, not the drive. Since none of my 8 blog followers were at the meeting I figure I am safe. I see I got 1 more follower and at this rate I should be famous in about 100 years. Okay, maybe I’ll never be famous. Anyway, I digress. It is like a big giant 3 day Church elders meeting where you get to eat lots and listen to people jabber on about inconsequential details. Whenever I drive anywhere the occupants of the car and I try to solve the world’s problems. I am really quite sure if I was given the chance to rule the world things would run smoothly. I say, give me a chance!! I’ll eliminate debt and make mean people be nice. I shall do this through torture. I know torture is mean but I say the mean justifies the end (heee heeee, do you get my pun??) Now don’t go sending me comments on the incorrectness of my thought; I’m just saying......... don’t knock it till you try it.

Anyway, my girl Erica is learning to drive and I have decided that Greg is not allowed to give Erica driving lessons. It did not take long for me to fear for my very existence so I kept correcting Greg’s driving as any good mother would do. Except I am not Greg’s Mom and I expect that this small factoid caused Greg to start driving dumb on purpose. Greg, Greg, Greg.......

I get back from my meetings on Thursday night – time enough to wash my favourite jeans, repack my suitcase and catch my flight to Vancouver Friday evening. Because I was very aware that I may hit Friday night traffic I leave right after work without eating dinner. So I start out the drive a wee bit hungry and by the time I arrived at my Park N Fly I am cross-eyed with hunger. I wait for my little green and white bus to pick me up and take me to the airport. There is this older Jamaican gentleman at the wheel. He cranks up the Jamaican music and then proceeds to drive through the lot and to the airport like a freaking maniac. I am eyeballing the other passengers who are also visibly concerned for their well being and by the time I arrive at the terminal I was sure I may just barf.

But common sense prevails and I breathe deep and decide barfing would be embarrassing plus I hadn’t really eaten anything so it would have been a wasted effort that would have resulted in me just gagging. I head straight to my gate and of course I get swabbed for drugs yet again. I ask myself, do I look like a druggie? They tell me it is random but I always get pulled aside. Perhaps, I look shifty. Perhaps, they think a middle aged Mom is a good cover for a terrorist who might blow up a plane?

I enjoy my flight, I watched 3 hours of Law and Order which made me think that mankind is generally not nice. Then I tell myself “Self ....... it is not real, get a grip”. So I get a grip and watch SpongeBob. Now that is real. I arrive in Vancouver cross-eyed with tiredness. It is pouring rain and its 3:00am Ontario time and I have to make my way to the motel where I almost drown trying to get from my car to the motel. I wish that my family is with me because they are the best travelling buddies ever.

Before my head even hits the pillow I am asleep and I remember to whisper a small “Thank you Lord for a safe trip ......zzzzzzzz”

The next day was my beautiful cousin Carries wedding. They had a dance. I think dances are fun. I wished I had danced more when I was younger. I still have lots of time to dance. Hey Mark, are sure you don’t want me to chaperone your Grade 8 Grad dance? Live, love, dance my friends...........