Nashville Bound

How I miss the days when we traveled and all three kids grabbed their Game Boys and jumped in the car. Now, depending on the reasons for traveling, at least one is screaming they don’t want to go. This time we were headed for Nashville to see my oldest play rugby. Which left my younger boy trying to convince me that he was an adult and perfectly able to stay home alone. Why is he never an adult when he needs money? Then he is my sweet little boy who loves his mom and really would like her to pay for everything.

He told me I was ruining his spring break, and he was missing a Guy’s Night. I didn’t see why 17 year olds need a Guy’s Night. Technically, I don’t think they qualify yet as "guys." And how tightly leashed can the girls have them while still in high school? However, this was clarified at the previous Guy’s Night when while happily munching pizza and discussing guy things, the lasso came flying through the window, landed around one boy’s neck, and the girl hauled him out of his cluster of buddies while he was pleading for mercy and promised to never forget to pick her up from work again.

Watching his retreating body, I realized girls are evidently much more assertive and muscular then when I was at Airline High. Vitamin powders and progressive thinking have taken females a long way.

When my son refused all reasons why he needed to get in the car, some rope and my best jujitzu moves did the job. Thank goodness my daughter still travels with a smile. She still likes to sit in the backseat, watch videos, and play the animal game for 9 hours. This left me wishing I was grown up enough to stay home by myself instead. I had my fill of family bonding after the first 3 hours of guessing strange, little known animals and fish. How does one distinguish one of about 12 million different fish. I think my know-it-all Steve Irwins knew I was severely lacking in fish facts.

Arriving in Nashville, we did some touring and watched some rugby. 2 teams, one ball, and no rules! What fun! And out of 80 teams, nearly 60 were women. Evidently similarly vitamin enhanced and progressive thinking women as the lasso wielding girl at home. Only these looked a bit threatening. I decided it was best to keep a low profile, just to assure that I wouldn’t get beat up and tossed around like a rugby ball by a bunch of testosterone enhanced, overly zealous female athletes. Even my best jujitzu wouldn't match up to these women. So I stayed quiet, and wore dark glasses.

After 3 days of country music, rugby, and non-stop complaining by my son, we headed back home. It was late, it was raining, and we were in the heavily forested, winding unmapped mountains of Arkansas, when my daughter had to go to the bathroom. I knew this was a problem, but told her to hold on, we would come to a town soon.
2,732 miles later, we pulled into a little town that actually had electricity. Circling around we looked for anything that remotely looked like an open gas station or restaurant. Evidently in the deep, dark reaches of the Ozarks, people go to sleep at 8 p.m. My daughter was desperate, her eyes had turned yellow, and the seatbelt no longer reached across her distended belly. Seeing a police car up ahead, I opened my window and waved.

Luckily the 2 cops remembered arresting me on a previous occasion and were old friends. After backslapping all around, they told us to follow them to the police station. The only indoor plumbing in 200 square miles.

Back at the station, after all using the plumbing, we hung around with the police, traded old memories, read all the Wanted posters, discussed who’s family members were in the Wanted posters, and were pleased I wasn’t in the Wanted posters. They also had me approve their jail cells to insure they were comfortable for the next time I might get thrown into them. Getting back into the car, we were excited to get home and tell everyone we went to the bathroom at a real live police station just like a criminal, but the police actually pinned silver badges on our shirts, and allowed us to leave.