Maps & Flying French Fries

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.