Day 25: Travels with Richard

Halfway across Lake Champlain, next to an eighteen wheeler on a ferry built for cars, I had a meltdown. Here's what happened.

Our trips start with so much hope and inevitably end with metaphorical sound proof glass between the driver and passenger side. We've been planning this trip to New York for weeks. This morning the skies were bright, and the roads were clear. We purchased enormous coffees from a local gas station and began the trip home- a meandering 7 hour drive that would turn into 15 hours, a dozen aching muscles and two charlie horses. But he earned both of those.

Let me tell you about Rich and how he drives. He starts out fine. He is focused, he watches the road. But Rich loves to look around him and everything catches his eye- from ponds to pine trees. The problem is that Rich's hands follow his eyes, so when he sees a particularly nice looking stream that is undoubtedly stocked with fish, he does a double-take and the car swerves toward the stream. Micky (who is perched in the back seat) slides, banging his head against the window, I get a jolt of nervous adrenaline and start swearing which prompts Rich to lecture me about my language. At this point I pull out the sound proof glass that I have stored in my closet of facial expressions and we ride in silence for 15 minutes. Until someone says they're sorry and the other person laughs it off. We've been through this scene a dozen times, in nearly every trip we take together. What was once an adorable trait has become something that makes me so crazy I can't laught it off and it ends up leading to a charlie horse.

The Crown Point Bridge over Lake Champlain is closed. It's the only bridge across and he heard from someone that the Ferry cost a hundred dollars each way and that the wait is over two hours. So we spend the next four hours driving up and down the Vermont border, looking for a bridge to New York. There isn't another way and eventually we end up grumpy and on a Ferry, which ends up being a ten minute wait and completely free of charge. A dozen dogs circle the boat, sending Micky into a frantic state of raised hairs and low growls. But my meltdown happens when a couple of men squeeze by the car- they are headed to the railing and press up against the windows, their puppy in tow. Micky loses his mind. He is howling and jumping around the backseat of our Yaris, trying to leap forward and coughing in a strangled way because he's leashed to the backseat. I expect Rich to jump in and save the day but he doesn't do a thing. He looks the other way and lets Micky continue in his tantrum and this sends me into a silent fury. Trapped on a small ferry in a tiny car, I have a moment. I am standing outside of myself looking into this vehicle and I realize that I want to be somewhere else- anywhere else. I don't want to be with this dog. I don't want to be with this man. And I certainly don't want to be on this boat headed into the dark to look at properties I don't know how to find.

There's not much to do but stare ahead as the dock lights come into view. The car stalls as I shift into gear and pull off the ferry into the night feeling a little lost and still annoyed. But we're back on land and I'm the one driving, so everything will be okay.