juuuuuuust kidding

Contrary to my belief, leaving four hours before your scheduled flight out of John F. Kennedy airport is not enough time to make your flight(when you are about 45 minutes away).

My father decided we should leave by 7, I thought that ridiculous. My Aunt Marcy seconded that, I thought 8 would be fine. It wasn't.

From one highway to the next, it was bumper to bumper traffic. By 9:15 we were still in Westchester, my dad decided all hope was lost. At 10am, he decides to pull off the highway because he has to go to the bathroom. On the way back onto the highway, we get pulled over by the cops. Apparently he went through a red light. It was a blessing in disguise. Instead of even giving my dad a warning, he tells my dad all of the highways into the city that are closed, and gives us what he thinks would be the best way to go.

After a few streets the cop is still behind us, and we have already misunderstood his directions. So I run out of the car at a red light and ask the cop for clarification. Two lights later, we get pulled over again. This time, so that he could tell us that the Bronx river parkway, the route he suggested, was actually a river(as in, it flooded), and was closed. At this point I have called my airline and found out that the same exact flight exists tomorrow. I change my reservation, and we call it a day.

Unfortunately, we are still stuck in incredibly bad weather, with flooding on all sides of us. I decide, mostly out of hunger, that it might be a good idea to find a diner, get something to eat, sit down for a while, regroup and wait out the traffic. It's genius.

So, about an hour later, we are ready to head back on the road. 15 minutes later, my dad wanted to call my mom. I thought he had the phone, he thought I had the phone. Classic sitcom plot. We turn around and go back to the diner to retrieve the phone. Now, we are on our way. Half an hour behind, but not broken.

So dad knows all of the highways to take, but gets lost about 3 miles away. He stops for gas and directions, but then decides to ignore them. A few weeks ago, Julie and I, after an exhilirating trip to the Museum of Sex down in the city stayed up at my Aunt Marcy's, and I very vividly remembered that one of the roads right near her house was called Goebel. I mean honestly, how can you forget a road with that name. Anyways, so we pass this road, and I tell him to turn on it. He thinks I am crazy, but follows anways. After about .4 of a mile on that road he gets nervous and sees a cop pulling over someone else. My father decides to pull up behind the cop and ask him for directions. At this point we are within two streets of the house, and baring some luck that the cop is from the neighborhood, there is no way that the cop would know exactly where to go, but anyways. We finally see the old route 304 that was the next direction after Goebel, and eventually find our way.

I don't know why, but I saw complete humor in this whole series of events. Unless another natural disaster occurs I am still going to Thailand, just a day late, so it will work out in the end. One thing I learned from my GA job last year, is that as long as it finishes well, sometimes it doesn't matter how it got started. It's not worth all of the worry, anxiety and aggrevation. It will all work out in the end. Knock on wood.

So it looks like I'm in Rockland county another night and I won't be in Thailand for another day. This time my Aunt Marcy and mother are driving me.

Just a day in the life I suppose...