Are We There Yet?

A Normal Road Trip seen through the Eyes of a Teenager

You’ve been in the same van with your family for a long time. Three bottles of water sloshing around in your body, one hundred and twenty five miles still to go, and nothing but a few centimeters of metal separating you from seventy eight mile-per-hour wind and bone crushing road, you begin asking some serious questions. But a single overpowering question plays over and over again in your head. Unable to escape your thoughts, it pulses past the mental realm into a painful physical reality. “Where is the stinkin’ bathroom?”

This same situation occurred to me, as it always does, unexpectedly. It all began the day we went to Ponca City, Oklahoma for Christmas. Last minute packing underway and people rushing around in anticipation of the coming Christmas events, we all were excited for the few days we would spend talking with old friends, eating good food, and opening presents. I especially was excited to get away from the daily routine. Happily, I went about my business willing the time to go by more quickly so that we could finally be on our way. Little did I know that my joyful, naïve state would eventually be ripped out from under me by a terrifying reality: four-and-a-half hours on the road in a Dodge Caravan. Not until later, when my head was pounding and I had an intense need to us the bathroomm, did I remember how the seemingly innocent two-hundred-and-eighty mile drive could suck me of my energy and my resolve to live. We finished packing everything by Eleven O’clock and eventually loaded ourselves into the cramped compartment we called a van. After the last minute “did we forget anything?” question was finally asked and we were ready to leave, I settled down in my comfortable chair prepared to enjoy the ride.

The first few miles of any trip are always the best. Everything is still familiar, the joy of a new and interesting destination is in the immediate future, and your head doesn’t feel like it’s been smashed by a bowling ball. But this euphoria lasts only so long. Soon, two miles turns into twenty miles which slowly turns into fifty miles, which slowly turns into boredom central, and you don’t feel any closer to where you are going then when you started. Eventually the immediate destination doesn’t feel so immediate anymore. Your head is pounding and you begin to feel a subtle pain forming in the lower region of your body. These thoughts and feelings were what consumed my mind sixty miles into the trip. I couldn’t move around, I had forgotten that reading in a vehicle is not a very good idea, and I was polishing off a large bottle of water. If I had been thinking strait I’m sure I wouldn’t have been so hasty to put liquid in my body. Then it hit me full force. A whole world of excitement could not make up for the misery I was in at that moment. And it only got worse. As my need for the restroom became more intense, very little things caused me the greatest amount of irritation. A once normal friendly conversation became a bombing of loud noises to my ears. Each word slamming against my eardrum reminded me of the miles between me and the next rest stop. Then I realized that I was sitting in a very uncomfortable position. But I could not, for the life of me, get comfortable anywhere on the seat, and moving around to find the perfect spot only articulated my painful state. On top of everything, no amount of distraction could pull me away from what I was feeling.

As can be imagined when we stopped midway through the road trip, I was elated to stumble out of the van on to the heavenly, unmoving ground. Old friends, good food, and presents didn’t matter anymore. I was now facing a life or death situation and was desperately striving for life. Somehow, despite the stiffness of joints and general paralysis that comes from sitting far too long, I managed to make it into the gas station. Blurred figures moved around me, but they were only distant, unimportant images in my mind as I walked towards the one destination that would bring relief. Needless to say, after that day, I christened the gas station my “home away from home” for very obvious and practical reasons. As we piled back into the car I realized what our little puppy, Riley, must have felt as he was also shoved into a small cramped box. The only difference between his situation and mine was that I didn’t fight back and bark. The rest of the trip was much of the same with similar thoughts, questions, and regrets. Only the familiar view of the stop light and Lows sign, which marked the visible beginning of Ponca City, kept me from going crazy. All of the sudden the great fog of misery cleared and I could breathe once again. Familiar sights began popping up all over the place. As they became more numerous and closer together I felt an internal scream of joy boil up into my throat. We had survived the great obstacle between us and a relaxing, Christmas weekend. We had managed the long trip to Ponca City.

The van pulled slowly into my grandparent’s driveway met by a quiet and inviting scene. Compared to the rush of traffic and claustrophobic atmosphere, this was heaven. I heard myself sigh in relief as I pulled open the door and let the cool fresh air wash over my face. My life was looking good once again. I could only hope that the trip back to Missouri would be a little more forgiving.