Before getting sick, I didn't really get home all that much. Sure I'd come home for a weekend here and a quick visit there, but I'm talking about the more substantial weeks at a time. It just hasn't been possible (or really required of me) since I moved into the city and started working full time. And the days I didn't work were either because I was hung over or wanted to go shopping with friends and spend my weekends at my apartment in the city.
During the summers of college when I didn't really have to work (unless by work you mean those ten measly hours I'd spend answering telephones at an Allstate office), I'd usually take my beloved Passat and drive it all around town while over singing the Dixie Chicks entire "Fly" CD. There was also that time I almost hit an old Chinese man on a bike because I was too busy shouting "Wide Open Spaces" out of my sunroof (off of their first CD). I'd grab a cup of coffee, maybe a donut or a few muchkins from Dunkin Donuts and just drive for like a good hour in the morning. I never went far. I just drove through the windy streets, by the water, into town and made different routes and loops all over a 10 mile stretch.
Usher P Raymond - this is my confession: I did it this morning. Though I no longer have the Passat (good riddance you poor excuse for a well made car!) I drove my mothers tank of an SUV after dropping her off at work. I figured well I'm up and the chances of me going back to bed at 8:30 are slim to none so I might as welllllll SING! And drive. So that's what I did.
It started innocently enough with "Cowboy Take Me Away" with a nice slow pace of a drive along the water. Then "Goodbye Earl" kicked things into high gear as I did the reverse wave* to the little kids who were waiting for the bus and throwing snow at passing cars. They were too confused to throw it at mine. Amateurs. Then by the time "Heartbreak Town" came on, I was nearly in tears driving down Main Street which at 9am is still very peaceful and quiet. I was reminded of a story my sister told me last night about some kid I went to high school with who apparently went to one of the three bars down there and drove home drunk and hit a snow bank and passed out. They found cocaine in his shirt pocket and she shook her head and said, "He's such a nice kid". No he wasn't. He was the biggest druggie/fuck up in school. I was more surprised that he had on a dress shirt with a front pocket.
That's the thing about being home. Nothing surprises me. When so and so's parents finally get a divorce you don't stop and think "But they were so happy". No. You think "Oh that makes sense I never saw them in the same room". When the town tramp gets pregnant at 20 and moves to Florida with her 29 year old boyfriend to live in a trailer park in the Kissimee St. Cloud area, it makes sense. It's written somewhere I'm pretty sure in stone that if you were the Big Asshole on Campus who used to be good looking and now work for Geico and spend your entire $22,000 paycheck at Gunthers - this too is not a shocker. The druggies will be druggies. The sluts will be sluts. The assholes will be assholes. And Sara Jo and her friends will always be fabulous.
* The Reverse Wave - When you honk the horn at someone and then wave in the opposite direction of where they are standing. It's a classic dick move that even at the age of 26 still manages to make me pee my pants a little.
