The Not-So-Casual Traveler
Where should I start? Maybe in Hopkinsville, Kentucky where we (my wife, and two grand daughters) had spent the night. We were heading home to Panama City after the previous day’s trip to western Indiana to pick up one of the kids. She is spending a few weeks this summer with us before I drive her back home to Indiana in August.
We left the motel sharply at 6:30 the next morning, on schedule I might add, and headed for Panama City. As usual, I had carefully planned each step of the trip and had allowed enough time to hit Nashville early enough that we could easily navigate around the city without dealing with heavy traffic. I was checking out the Sheraton Hotel where I plan to stay in October when my wife and I will be attending the IBMA (International Bluegrass Music Association) convention. I am a die hard, hard core, bluegrass music fan and can hardly wait to saturate in all things bluegrass. But, that is another day and another blog.
Saturday is usually a good day to travel since there are fewer tractor trailers and fewer business travelers. That was not the case this weekend. As we left Nashville, and headed south down I-65, traffic began to mount. When we reached Birmingham, we were embedded in some of the worst traffic I have seen since my last trip to Atlanta. As the stress increased, so did the clouds and before we left the city, the sky opened, thunder boomed, and lightning illuminated the dark sky looking a little like 1980’s disco. Traffic stopped. Well, some of it did and the rest of the maniacs hydroplaned down the highway spraying even more water on my windshield. It took almost a full hour to get through Birmingham and to make matters worse; my itinerary was all out of sorts.
I should be honest at this point. Some say I suffer a bit from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder because I like for some things to be perfectly organized. Travel is one of those things. I have a specific time to leave for a trip, a time to arrive, a time to refuel, a time for lunch breaks, comfort breaks, and specific times to be at specific destinations. I like order. Yes, I know, I should see someone about that but I can’t seem to fit it into my schedule.
So, by the time we were completely through Birmingham my nerves were shot and so was my schedule. As we approached Montgomery, I am running very low on fuel. But my itinerary indicated a refueling stop on the south side of Montgomery and that was what I planned to do. What I didn’t plan for was a major traffic jam as we approached the city. Traffic was at a dead stop. Minutes later, it was at a crawl, then a stop, then a crawl. You know the kind of traffic I am talking about.
Meanwhile, my fuel warning light and alarm goes off. There is no way I can get off of the interstate and traffic is not moving. Down goes the windows and in comes the heat. I am at the end of my rope when from the back seat comes this:
“I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”
“Where do you propose to go,” I snarled.
“Can you hold it? You’re Poppy will stop in a few minutes,” my wife added so calmly that I knew she was simply trying to contrast her calm with my aggravation just to make a point. She does things like that.
As we are creeping along, I am formulating a plan to find fuel when a sign indicates that the next exit is only a mile and a half away. Thirty minutes tops and I will be off the interstate and into the city where surely there will be fuel.
Much to my surprise, I make it to the exit, find fuel, and wind my way through the inner city streets of Montgomery to US 231 South with the tank full and the bladders empty. I am way, way, behind schedule but finally heading home.
I’ll not mention that I foolishly decided to take 167 south through Enterprise, Alabama thinking that I could get out of the heavy traffic on 231 because I will only get stressed again thinking about the bumper to bumper mistake in judgment. As it turned out, the traffic was heavier than on 231.
So, I get home, take a shower, and decide to spend some quality time on my porch with my old guitar. I’m sitting in my swing and softly strumming away my anxiety when my wife walks out the same door that I had just walked through and stepped squarely on a snake.
She screamed that she had been bitten and sure enough, blood was streaming from her toe and it is swelling. The snake, I determined, was a pigmy rattlesnake or it sure looked like one. The wife ran to call the emergency room and I proceeded to bludgeon the snake beyond easy recognition. Just a week earlier, coming out the same door, a corn snake fell on me. Now, that is something I will remember forever. I will never forget the unmistakable “flop” a snake makes when it grazes your face and hits your shoulder. But that is another blog for another day.
We raced to the emergency room (from my home on highway 20) where we will spend the next six hours. To make matter worse, I had two young children with me who were worried about their Grandma and completely exhausted from our day’s travel.
I had put the snake in a small cooler thinking the doctor would want to see it. You should have seen the nurse’s face when I handed her the cooler and asked “Should I have killed it first?” Ok, that was mean but by now, I needed a little comic relief.
(This picture of a banded water snake came from aaanimalcontrol.com)
The wife was ultimately treated for infection and after a weary day, happily sent home. We were very relieved that she did not have to stay and undergo treatment for a painful, venomous bite. After starting our day in south Kentucky, we finally make it to bed by 2:30 AM and way behind schedule. We are thoroughly tired, exhausted, and mentally spent but very happy that the day had a happy ending.
So, I learned a few things: Even the best plans go astray, half full is not the same as half empty, go to the potty even if you don’t have to, and always, always, watch your step.
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About Me
The life of any News Director is stressful most days... so, when the weekend rolls around I find myself on the back roads of our bountiful and beautiful part of the state looking for bluegrass music, interesting things to do, and, of course, fried chicken. I will try to share some of these "finds" with you. There are a thousand stories left to be told or simply remembered. Don't expect to find them all here; maybe just a little stroll down memory lane or maybe a little skewed insight into topical issues.
Larche Hardy,
News Director
All My Entries:
- Nashville Bluegrass at IBMA
- Marty Raybon and Georgia Bluegrass
- Curse of the Acoustic Guitar
- A Millville Hero
- Bluegrass at BAMA JAM a hit!
- Bird watching not a bore
- No Poet Laureate
- Let the Bluegrass begin
- Hurry Spring
- Alabama’s Highway 52
- Cell Phone Interuptus
- Bellying up to the bar
- Resolutions are Doomed to Failure
- Bah-dad-gum-Humbug
- A hunting we will go!
- Hot Stuff!
- My new camo hat… A bargain at $34
- The Road Trip
- “If you don’t want to make the news, just don’t do it.”
- Hostage
- Not a Cat Person
- Hollywood - Here I don’t come…
- Found: a cure for the blues…
- It won’t be long…
- Not Enough Historical Markers, I say…
- Evolution takes many forms
- Revisiting Vernon
- All I know is that it’s hot…
- I Love Slocomb
- The Not-So-Casual Traveler
- The Casual Historian
Other News13 Blogs:
- The Casual Historian - Larche Hardy
- Derby Girl - Enocha Van Lierop
- The Newby - Jessi Chapin
- Gainesville, Georgia's All American Girl - Tuquyen Mach
