Part 2 - I used to wanna be a SEAL
Mar. 22nd, 2010 01:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
boogieshoesI thought it was time to continue the saga of the worst vacation ever. Part 1 is here. What follows is, of course, Part 2.
Troy has always been a highway stop – even wagon trains would stop in the area and use the short rest to re-supply. These days, there are three major highways that form the major nexus of roads in Troy, lined on both sides with a plethora of fast food places and gas stations. As is usual in any road trip, the first major stop along the way is a gas station to top off the tank. Thus it was that we watched the sun rise over I-55 just as Kirk hinted at our first disaster:
“Mom, my throat hurts.”
Mom placed her hand on his head. “You don’t feel warm, are you queasy?”
“No,” said Kirk.
“Well, we’ll keep an eye on it, and be sure to tell me if it gets any worse.” Now, I love my brother, and he is surely the least literal of us, but for some reason, he had decided that day that this particular directive meant he should update Mom every 30 minutes, in as whiney a voice as possible. You can see where this was going.
Some four hours later, Mom made that growling sound that implied she was ready to leave us on the side of the road. Kirk is not dumb, despite his lack of interest in academics, and shuts up quite well.
Two hours later, it was time for lunch. Now comes the part where I explain about the truck. See, the truck had two front seats, driver side and passenger side. And the truck had a middle bench, where Kirk and Tammy sat, argued, played, and wrestled. But I got the best seat in the place, the truck bed. Except it wasn’t a pick-up truck. It was a blue Dodge Ram with a little ram’s head on the front that I adored, and looked like an older version of an SUV: it sat higher, and it didn’t have a third bench seat in any sense of the word, but the back half was carpeted in a matching blue, and had most of the luggage. Even so, I had plenty of room to play, sleep, and read back there as I wished. Or color – I believe I brought some horse-themed coloring books that day. And of course, my prized box of 98 crayola crayons.
Lunch was fairly quick, but it was a sit-down meal, for which we were all glad. It’s amazing how tiring being in a moving car is, even when you’re not the one driving. It was also nice to get out of the summer heat, which is great for napping in, but makes the interior of cars and trucks feel a little stuffy, no matter how much room there is…
… and also concentrates the melted wax smell from the crayons when we opened the truck door after lunch.
“What the -?” Dad moved around to the back of the truck and opened the trunk door to see a thin stream of hot colored wax and paper bits flowing out of a sad, sad crayola crayon box.
I thought the back of the truck looked beautiful with all those colors, but the rest of my family wasn’t so sure.
“Monika!” cried Tammy, horrified, “It’s everywhere! All over the luggage!”
“Dad, look what Monika did!” tattled Kirk, as if it wasn’t obvious.
“I’m not laying down on that! I’ll get burned!” I whined.
“Make it stop,” whimpered Mom in a small voice.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On we continued on our trek to Florida, over hill, over dale, over the beautiful Appalachian Mountains.
“Mom, my ear is hot!”
“Well, it’s in the sun – why don’t you put an ice cube on it? You probably picked up a sun burn.”
“OK,” replied Kirk.
A few minutes later, my darling brother piped up again with: “Mom, my ear hurts!”
“Hmm, do you think you got a bug in it? That would hurt.”
“No,” Kirk said, “nothing’s in there, it just hurts!”
“We’re going over the mountains, you probably need to pop it. Why don’t you chew some gum?”
“Ok,” Kirk said, a little doubtfully.
This conversation repeated in various forms over the next few hours, with Kirk noting that his ear was getting progressively worse, and Mom getting progressively desperate, uncertain of what to do. Tammy and I were getting progressively irritated with Kirk’s whining – until he started moaning, and then screaming in pain.
Fortunately, we were near a stopping point with a decent-sized town. We checked into the hotel, and Dad said he’d take Tammy and myself to get dinner while the hotel doctor looked at Kirk.
“But, I wanna see!” I whined.
“It’s not polite to listen in,” Dad said.
“Besides, we don’t want to hear about it every 5 minutes for the rest of the trip – we’ve heard about it enough already!” Tammy huffed.
So, off to dinner we went. When we came back, Mom was sitting against the headboard of one of the beds, and Kirk had his head in her lap.
“Well?” Dad specializes in efficient word usage.
“It’s swimmer’s ear. We got some drops, but it should be ok. Also, some child-dosage pain-killers for the drive, just in case.”
My brother chose that moment to let out a snore. In our family, one does not simply sleep. No, we saw logs with the finest chainsaws in world. Even the dogs get in on the act. There were no dogs in the hotel room, but Kirk was doing his best to make up for it.
“Hmph,” said Dad, “I guess he’s not going to want dinner tonight.”
“I’ll eat his share!” I cried.
Tammy rolled her eyes.
That night proved interesting, in the Chinese sense of the word. We were wakened several times as the pain got too much for Kirk to sleep through. I’m sure he was miserable at the time, but being as young as I was, all I could think of was my own wish for sleep – and voicing it in true whiney brat fashion.
Mom, worried, dosed Kirk with ear drops and pain medication exactly on time, but the pain seemed to overwhelm the medication far too easily. Finally, though, Kirk seemed to settle down to a deep sleep. This was sometime after I got in trouble for throwing a pillow in his direction after I’d been woken up one time too many, in my not so humble opinion.
The next morning, as everyone was getting ready to go, my sister cried out, “Mom, look!”
We all looked to where she was pointing: the pillow Kirk had slept on during the night had a big red spot on it. With some interesting yellow gunk on it.
“Kirk!” Mom gasped, rushing about the room trying to find him.
The hotel room door opened about 5 minutes later to reveal Dad and Kirk.
“Kirk! Where have you been?” Mom barked.
Kirk gave her a confused look. “I was loading the car with Dad – why?”
“The – The pillow, look – “
So Kirk and Dad dutifully looked at the pillow. “What’s that, Dad?”
“It looks like your ear drained, kid.”
“Cool! I mean, it’s kinda gross, but it’s also *way* cool!”
“Let me take a look at your ear, Kirk,” Mom said.
“Aw, Mom, I feel fine!”
“Kirk! Just let me look at your ear!” Mom yelled.
Our family's adventures continue in Part 3 and Part 4.
-bs
Troy has always been a highway stop – even wagon trains would stop in the area and use the short rest to re-supply. These days, there are three major highways that form the major nexus of roads in Troy, lined on both sides with a plethora of fast food places and gas stations. As is usual in any road trip, the first major stop along the way is a gas station to top off the tank. Thus it was that we watched the sun rise over I-55 just as Kirk hinted at our first disaster:
“Mom, my throat hurts.”
Mom placed her hand on his head. “You don’t feel warm, are you queasy?”
“No,” said Kirk.
“Well, we’ll keep an eye on it, and be sure to tell me if it gets any worse.” Now, I love my brother, and he is surely the least literal of us, but for some reason, he had decided that day that this particular directive meant he should update Mom every 30 minutes, in as whiney a voice as possible. You can see where this was going.
Some four hours later, Mom made that growling sound that implied she was ready to leave us on the side of the road. Kirk is not dumb, despite his lack of interest in academics, and shuts up quite well.
Two hours later, it was time for lunch. Now comes the part where I explain about the truck. See, the truck had two front seats, driver side and passenger side. And the truck had a middle bench, where Kirk and Tammy sat, argued, played, and wrestled. But I got the best seat in the place, the truck bed. Except it wasn’t a pick-up truck. It was a blue Dodge Ram with a little ram’s head on the front that I adored, and looked like an older version of an SUV: it sat higher, and it didn’t have a third bench seat in any sense of the word, but the back half was carpeted in a matching blue, and had most of the luggage. Even so, I had plenty of room to play, sleep, and read back there as I wished. Or color – I believe I brought some horse-themed coloring books that day. And of course, my prized box of 98 crayola crayons.
Lunch was fairly quick, but it was a sit-down meal, for which we were all glad. It’s amazing how tiring being in a moving car is, even when you’re not the one driving. It was also nice to get out of the summer heat, which is great for napping in, but makes the interior of cars and trucks feel a little stuffy, no matter how much room there is…
… and also concentrates the melted wax smell from the crayons when we opened the truck door after lunch.
“What the -?” Dad moved around to the back of the truck and opened the trunk door to see a thin stream of hot colored wax and paper bits flowing out of a sad, sad crayola crayon box.
I thought the back of the truck looked beautiful with all those colors, but the rest of my family wasn’t so sure.
“Monika!” cried Tammy, horrified, “It’s everywhere! All over the luggage!”
“Dad, look what Monika did!” tattled Kirk, as if it wasn’t obvious.
“I’m not laying down on that! I’ll get burned!” I whined.
“Make it stop,” whimpered Mom in a small voice.
On we continued on our trek to Florida, over hill, over dale, over the beautiful Appalachian Mountains.
“Mom, my ear is hot!”
“Well, it’s in the sun – why don’t you put an ice cube on it? You probably picked up a sun burn.”
“OK,” replied Kirk.
A few minutes later, my darling brother piped up again with: “Mom, my ear hurts!”
“Hmm, do you think you got a bug in it? That would hurt.”
“No,” Kirk said, “nothing’s in there, it just hurts!”
“We’re going over the mountains, you probably need to pop it. Why don’t you chew some gum?”
“Ok,” Kirk said, a little doubtfully.
This conversation repeated in various forms over the next few hours, with Kirk noting that his ear was getting progressively worse, and Mom getting progressively desperate, uncertain of what to do. Tammy and I were getting progressively irritated with Kirk’s whining – until he started moaning, and then screaming in pain.
Fortunately, we were near a stopping point with a decent-sized town. We checked into the hotel, and Dad said he’d take Tammy and myself to get dinner while the hotel doctor looked at Kirk.
“But, I wanna see!” I whined.
“It’s not polite to listen in,” Dad said.
“Besides, we don’t want to hear about it every 5 minutes for the rest of the trip – we’ve heard about it enough already!” Tammy huffed.
So, off to dinner we went. When we came back, Mom was sitting against the headboard of one of the beds, and Kirk had his head in her lap.
“Well?” Dad specializes in efficient word usage.
“It’s swimmer’s ear. We got some drops, but it should be ok. Also, some child-dosage pain-killers for the drive, just in case.”
My brother chose that moment to let out a snore. In our family, one does not simply sleep. No, we saw logs with the finest chainsaws in world. Even the dogs get in on the act. There were no dogs in the hotel room, but Kirk was doing his best to make up for it.
“Hmph,” said Dad, “I guess he’s not going to want dinner tonight.”
“I’ll eat his share!” I cried.
Tammy rolled her eyes.
That night proved interesting, in the Chinese sense of the word. We were wakened several times as the pain got too much for Kirk to sleep through. I’m sure he was miserable at the time, but being as young as I was, all I could think of was my own wish for sleep – and voicing it in true whiney brat fashion.
Mom, worried, dosed Kirk with ear drops and pain medication exactly on time, but the pain seemed to overwhelm the medication far too easily. Finally, though, Kirk seemed to settle down to a deep sleep. This was sometime after I got in trouble for throwing a pillow in his direction after I’d been woken up one time too many, in my not so humble opinion.
The next morning, as everyone was getting ready to go, my sister cried out, “Mom, look!”
We all looked to where she was pointing: the pillow Kirk had slept on during the night had a big red spot on it. With some interesting yellow gunk on it.
“Kirk!” Mom gasped, rushing about the room trying to find him.
The hotel room door opened about 5 minutes later to reveal Dad and Kirk.
“Kirk! Where have you been?” Mom barked.
Kirk gave her a confused look. “I was loading the car with Dad – why?”
“The – The pillow, look – “
So Kirk and Dad dutifully looked at the pillow. “What’s that, Dad?”
“It looks like your ear drained, kid.”
“Cool! I mean, it’s kinda gross, but it’s also *way* cool!”
“Let me take a look at your ear, Kirk,” Mom said.
“Aw, Mom, I feel fine!”
“Kirk! Just let me look at your ear!” Mom yelled.
Our family's adventures continue in Part 3 and Part 4.
-bs
