Come On-A My Taos
Rosemary Clooney - "Come On-A My House"
Another theme song that accompanied us on our trip. And of course, we sang along with Rosemary as best we could. She probably would've been wincing in pain, but we tried anyway.
So, I finished packing our things the night before our departure at roughly 11 pm. I crawled into bed, which already contained a slumbering Will, after arguing with him that we HAD to leave by 2:30 am at the latest the next morning. I attempted to explain to him how my parents were flying into Albuquerque the next day at 1:30 pm, which really meant 12:30 pm Pacific time - and with it taking 12 hours of driving time to get there, we should've actually left at midnight to get there on time. So, as it was, by leaving at 2:30 am (our time), we were already going to be 2 hours late right out of the gate. He was not convinced. Mainly because when he's tired, he doesn't listen to reason...and when he's refreshed and awake, he doesn't listen to reason.
When the alarm sounded at 1:30 am - even though I had actually only slept 2 hours, I felt alert and ready to go. Will did not and expressed this to me rather vigorously. Too bad - so sad - get in the fucking car - we're going to have a great vacation, DAMNIT.
We left around 2:40 am and I already felt like we were in a rush. I didn't want my parents hanging around in an airport with their luggage longer than they had to and we were already 2 hours late. So, I was ready to haul ass for the NEXT 12 HOURS. Who wants to rush for 12 hours? Not me, but I tried and I did...and then some.
Wednesday conked right out immediately, like she usually does in a car. Even for a 5 minute drive, she usually falls asleep. Unfortunately, Gomez does not. And even though it was in the middle of the night, he was under the impression that we were going to the beach. He was under that impression for the first 10 HOURS of the trip.
Another rather unfortunate thing was that even though I've had my car for over 2 years, I've never learned exactly how to use the cruise control (not exactly and not even close). And I was most likely going to be driving the entire way. Will isn't fond of driving, so I didn't mind. Although, my right knee did, as did the circulation in my legs.
I know that it should be simple to learn how to use the cruise control - and it actually is, but this is one of the many quirky things about me that I won't take the time (all 45 seconds) to learn something that I won't need on a regular basis.
Well, after driving 8 hours through this and this and this, I really wanted to know how to use the fucking cruise control.
For the most part, the landscape was really beautiful and full of striking contrasts, like the Flagstaff area.
But to be honest, by the time we reached Gallup, New Mexico, I was stressed. My folks had already landed at the airport and were patiently waiting for our arrival (We were still over 2 1/2 hours away). I had delusional plans that we would be in Taos by 4:30 pm, before sunset. I was probably more delirious than delusional at this point and unless I started doing lines of Comet, there was NO WAY we were going to be there before sunset.
My knee hurt, my eyes hurt, I was strung out on caffeine - I had been drinking coffee, iced tea and chewing some horrible bullshit Japanese caffeinated fucking gum that our friend Kaelen gave us (Kaelen, I've eaten dirt that tasted better than that shit, thanks a lot) - that tasted more like I was chewing a soft piece of charcoal. And CAFFEINATED GUM??? What the hell? It's no wonder the Japanese had Kamikaze pilots. "Kamikaze" means "god" and "wind", but I really think that it means "freaked out" and "on caffeinated gum". By the time we pulled up to a gas station in Gallup, Gomez still had a hope that we were really going to the beach and all the caffeine was making me grind my molars down to dust.
I have a bad habit of leaving the keys in the car if someone else is still in the there. I know that it's stupid, but for some reason I just think that if the person needs the keys for some reason, there they are...in the ignition. Well, I got out to pump the gas. Will then got out to get some more water, not knowing that I left the keys in the car. He shut the door to keep the dogs in and Gomez hoping that we just took the long way to the beach parking lot, jumped up and locked the door, which locks ALL of the doors.
I heard the lock, but somewhere in my over-alert head - I didn't want to acknowledge the consequence, so I kept pumping gas. Will then turned to me and said, "Gomez just locked the car." He was fully expecting me to hand him the keys. Instead, I bitch-screamed. I think that they heard me in Texas. It sounded like someone stabbed me in the back. Then, my jaw hit the ground revealing my ground-down molars, I lost my breath and choked on tooth-dust (and over-ripe caffeine breath - yum) and my eyeballs bounced out of my sockets and hit the pavement and rolled under the car. God knows where my contacts landed...probably on the windshield wipers.
I then screamed like a 9 year old Vienna choir boy; "THE KEYS ARE IN THERE!!!" And luckily, I didn't burst into tears, like I wanted to...'cause I didn't have any eyeballs at that point. We both stared at one another for a moment (me from my sockets, Will from his eyes), then Will said, "Can we get in through the trunk???" The trunk was open, luckily, so there was a fleeting hope...a quickly fleeting hope. Everything we had in there went flying. By the time we finished tearing out the food, the luggage and the lining, dynamite couldn't have gotten through that trunk. Fucking German car manufacturers.
Then a police officer pulled up to get some gas. Thank heavens, we're saved. I asked him if he could help. Only if a person is trapped inside, can they do anything. I asked him what in the hell he thought the dogs were??? THOSE DOGS CAME STRAIGHT OUT OF MY VAGINA AND I FED THEM WITH MY OWN BREASTS GODDAMNIT! AND IF HE WOULD JUST GET THEM THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR, I'D SHOW HIM!!!
He wasn't going for it.
I told him that Will would do him a favor behind the gas station if he helped. He wasn't going for that either. I told him that if he helped, I'd let him live. He wasn't falling for that either. The fucker. He drove away as I silently wished that I had packed my missile launcher.
Well, sadly, my cell phone AND my roadside assistance phone number were also in the car. And I was thinking about taking up gasoline as my new drink of choice. However, Will DID have his cell phone and the women at the gas station found 2 phone numbers for the only 2 locksmiths in Gallup. Will called and called and called.
Just voicemail.
He left message
after message
after message.
I contained myself. Will apologized for shutting the door and even though I would've LOVED to have lashed out at him or anyone for this, it was MY mistake, no one else's. I told him that it wasn't his fault, because it wasn't. And in the midst of it, with being so amped up I could've probably pushed the car all the way to Albuquerque, I was glad that I hadn't lost my temper and blamed anyone but me.
It's a peculiar thing - taking responsibility for one's own actions. So many people don't for fear that it will somehow diminish them, diminish their credibility, diminish their self-worth and their false sense of control. But for me, it does the opposite. It's rather liberating. I've learned along the way, that I am the SOUL bearer of my actions - all of my actions. And even if I fall short of a satisfactory performance, which I do quite often, I'm still here. And it's all okay. I can make mistakes, many of them, and it's all okay. Because in the end, I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks of me. I care what I think of me.
And so what, I'm not perfect - so-the-fuck-what? I'm trying to figure it out, just like everybody else. It's called learning. (Damn...smelllll-me. Look at me go...shiiitttt....)
Out of the world of contemplation and back into our desperate reality, on the other end of the situation, somewhere among the dust of Gallup, New Mexico, one of the locksmiths had turned her cell phone off to conserve a low battery. She decided to turn it back on to see if one of her daughters had called and there were our frantic messages. She called us and said that she was on her way.
When she arrived, she almost turned around and drove off. I think that we may have frightened her as we ran towards her screaming and crying in our tube-tops and hot-pants, teetering on our go-go boots. But, she braved it and stayed.
She did have some trouble getting it unlocked, but she got it. Like a champ, she got it. And those asshole dogs were barking at her the entire time. Once she unlocked the door, after I had been praying to every god imaginable...and Oprah, I reached in, grabbed the keys and shut the door again to keep the dogs in. And they immediately locked the doors AGAIN. Talented, aren't they?
We were so thankful. I paid her double what she asked. And then I tried to french-kiss her for 5 minutes. She politely declined and we only went for 3 minutes.
I called my Dad to tell him that we were back on the road, but still 2 1/2 hours away. I was feeling encouraged that we were back on the trail. And I was feeling encouraged that I managed to take full responsibility of my actions and not blame anyone else. I was feeling encouraged that we would be there soon and I would rescue my lovely, smiling parents from the monotony of the airport baggage claim. And I was completely unaware that we would be arriving in Albuquerque just in time for rush hour.