Laura is quite the world traveler. This travels rarely include me, and I can't fault her for that; I can barely handle a trip to the dry cleaners with myself. However, one thing for which I can fault her is her tendency to book flights that leave at 5 AM. On the kind of departures she takes, the only people on the plane are bank robbers trying to flee the country and high dollar prostitutes. Now I'm cool with her fallin into either group there as long as she cuts me into the loot. My problem lies with the fact that, on these butt o'clock flights, I have to drive her to the airport. My 9 AM drive to work is an adventure on its own. When you move it up 3 hours and expand it in length 10 times (I live realllly far from the airport), it becomes a journey into the hazy area between life and death.
Case in point: the Christmas drop-off. She was flying from DFW, which happens to be about 5 miles from my dad's house. Even with that as our base of operations and the fact that I had made this trip literally dozens of times, I messed it up. The drop off went fine, as it always does. The return trip did not go as smoothly. One minute, I'm right down the street from my dad's house. Thirty five minutes later, I'm pointing a flashlight at the sky to see if the buzzards were circling yet. I had no freaking clue where I was. I was literally 1/2 mile from my Dad's, and then I found some kind of wormhole that transported me to Denton County. I knew then that I would never make a good conquistador.
We had another instance today. Laura's going to the Bahamas for Easter and she put me in charge of driving her car safely back from the airport. Just like the time before, I knew where the airport was and where I needed to be; just liek the time before, something went dreadfully wrong in applying that knowledge. Things were going well right after I dropped her off, but then the grogginess took over. It only took two street signs to send me into a paralyzing moment of east-or-west? mania. Before I could make up my mind, the east-bound road peeled off on a u-turn, thus taking my lane with it. Luckily, there was an unoccupied field right ahead into which I could skid safely and then soil myself. The car is fine, I am fine, and the only thing damaged is my already-tenuous grasp on airport drop-off skills.Posted by Cody at April 12, 2006 5:56 PM