I figured I’d keep with the vacation theme with the post
today. On another trip (the destination
is irrelevant), my father was being a particular turd, huffing and gesticulating
with his hands in the air, because my stepmother didn’t know every landmark and
hidden turn along the route we were taking.
Keep in mind that this was back in the days before GPS, so we were
navigating solely by a flat, two-dimensional, paper map. If you hadn’t seen the route before, then
everything was a new experience. My
father didn’t take that well. He expected
his navigator to have expert-level knowledge about the route, because he
trusted her explicitly.
To my stepmother’s credit, she was normally a saint when it
came to dealing with my father’s unreasonable expectations. However, on this particular trip, she had had
enough. She snapped. She took the map and threw it at him, saying,
“If you think you can do better, then you do it.” My father was wildly trying to fend off the
flying map, while keeping the car safely on the road. My stepmother grabbed the rest of her hamburger
and French fries from lunch and headed to the back of the van.
For the next 15-20 minutes, my father helplessly drove down
the road, trying to guess the way he should go, while my stepmother pummeled him
with French fries from the back of the van.
That’s right, she was periodically throwing French fries at the back of
his head to voice her displeasure!
Eventually, I took pity on my father and climbed up into the front seat
to help him find the route. But the
French fries kept on coming, until every single one lay on the floor or
clinging to my father’s shirt. I bet he
regretted super-sizing her order after that.
