I spent my last week in Philly packing up, organizing... and chillin'. I had dinner and drinks with my cousins, Kate and John, in Center City. I attended the alumni reception at CHA and hung out with some old friends. I spent time with my parents. And then, I packed up my life and loaded into the back of a Nissan Xterra, and hit the road to DC where I joined mother, sister and company for Mother's Day weekend.
At Mother's Day dinner in Alexandria. I was quite introspective. Long highway to drive tomorrow. What's at the other end of it? After dinner I sensed myself getting frustrated. We all took a brief stroll down by the Potomac and looked out over the River. In hindsight, I believe that the sentimentality of the moment brought about such emotions in me that I shut myself off. I needed not to feel them or I would have cried. And if I cried, Mom would have cried. Can't have that. Next thing you know, Abigail will be crying and I definitely can't have that.
I drove back to Andi and David's place, Gary riding shotgun, stopping at a couple of plays to get gas. Why a couple of places? Because the first two places either had broken pump handles on the available pumps, or nobody came to the pay window because the cashier was probably in the backroom, playing switch. I felt myself getting antsy.
Back in Crystal City, it was handshakes for David and Gary. Hugs and kisses for Andi and Mom. Andrea told me "Work hard. Do your government and your country proud. Represent them well."
Mom hugged me tightly for a moment, kissed me on the cheek. She pulled back with a couple of tears glistening on the skin under her eyes. "Be careful," she said. Guess you can't prevent the inevitable. Well, at least I delayed.
Halfway down the hall, the apartment door re-opened behind me. It was Andrea. "Call us when you get there."
I drove up to Rockville to Ben and Louise's place. My "brotha from anotha motha" and his wife, "my sista from anothe mista," were waiting for me. We talked awhile in their living room. I poured myself a Jack and Coke. After two episodes of Deadliest Catch on Discovery, and sometime into Justin Timberlake's third hosting of Saturday Night Live (DVR'd), Ben and Louise fell asleep on the couch at the same time, curled up like a couple of lion. Louise woke after a short time, probably from the unusually raucous uproar of laughter from the SNL studio audience as they reacted to a music video -- the sequel to the notorious "D**k In a Box." Louise shook Ben. He snored. After two drop kicks and a flying elbow from the ottoman, Ben stirred and awoke to hear his wife say "Honey let's go to bed." I watched TV for awhile then lied down to sleep around 1 am.
This morning, my cell phone alarm went off on-time, at six fifteen. After I reset the alarm for seven fifteen, it then went off on-time, yet again. Both times, Ben had heard the alarm. Both times, he came out to make sure he said goodbye before leaving. The second time, he sat in the living room while I showered upstairs, and put back on the same shirt and slacks I had been wearing the night before. Grabbed my back packs. A bear hug from my best friend and I was on the road again. "Drive carefully," he called after me. Out the door and out of Rockville at seven forty five am.
I drove the Washington Beltway to 95 south. I stayed on 95 through Richmond, then picked up 85 south. Stopped for breakfast at a WaWa around Manassas. Stopped for gas a couple of times. I also stopped twice for half-hour naps. Once after breakfast and once about two hours after the lunch I had somewhere around Greenville, SC. I stayed on 85 and rode that bastard all the way into Georgia. Within a few miles of Atlanta, I realized something. This is the widest damn highway I've ever seen in my life! Five lanes! Plus an HOV lane! Plus two lanes at each ramp! District of Columbia, eat your heart out!
Checked in at the Crowne Plaza - Atlanta Perimeter just before 8 pm. I made my phone calls, watched the news, and then had a club sandwich and a Diet Coke at the lobby bar. Both the soda, which was canned, and the Yuengling I had after dinner, which was bottled, tasted watered down. This is what they tasted like in Tennessee, too. What is this, a southern thing? It can't be. I walked cross the street and the Diet Coke I bought in a 2-liter tastes fine!
And, as Colonel Sanders said "This is now now." Room 401. I'm sitting at the desk, in a wonderful, black leather swivel chair.
Sorry this post hasn't been more exciting or thought-provoking. Try back again soon. It's a quarter after midnight now, and I still have my boots on. So now I'll conclude this post, as I opened it, once again, with a few words from Willie Nelson:
You can't make a record if you ain't got nothin' to say
You can't make a record if you ain't got nothin' to say
You can't play music if you don't know nothin' to play
--
Shotgun Willie sits around in his underwear
Bitin' a bullet, pullin' out all of his hair
Shotgun Willie has got all of his family there
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