Maybe you just had to be there

I don't have anything profound to blog about today, so I'll tell you about a little adventure I had today. I am totally willing to admit that this might be one of those "you had to be there" stories or at the very least, you just have to hear me tell it out loud and watch me as I tell it.

This morning, I was headed up to Lewisville (home of the Fighting Farmers) with my parents to take my Aunt Lois a fruitcake for Christmas. (Yes, some people actually do give and receive fruitcakes for Christmas, especially if you are from Corsicana, home of the world famous Collin Street Bakery fruitcake. Evidently kings and presidents receive these fruitcakes for Christmas.)

As I have stated before, Dallas drivers can be maniacs, and this guy almost ran over the car in the lane beside us, swerved in front of us and almost caused us to hit him. After my dad slammed the breaks, my mom says, "I had to go to the bathroom before, but I really need to go now."

Evidently, by saying this, she meant "take the next exit." Dad didn't get that hint, and I didn't realize this was an emergency. So, a couple of miles later, Mom repeats, "I need to go the bathroom now."

We exit off in Carollton where there is only a string of car dealerships. No gas stations, no McDonald's, nothing. We go further down the service road, mom points out a restaurant off the block, but it's too late to turn. Up ahead is a train that has traffic stopped, and there's not another place to turn before getting to the railroad track.

I know, right now you are thinking, this story has got to get better...

So, here we are stopped for a train. I say to Mom, "That looks like a visitor's center or something over there, you want to get out and walk over there, and Dad can pick us up?" Dad certainly chimes in that I'll get out of the truck with her.

Reminder, we are on the service road to I-35, stopped for a train, and my mom and I jump out of the truck. I'm wearing a new pair of shoes I bought last weekend that add to my height which I need since my jeans are a little long. They are cute shoes, but not walking shoes, and no pair of wedges should ever be considered running shoes.

We have to climb over this chain to get through this parking lot, cross one street, look in a door to see if they have a restroom, then cross back. All the while I am walking as fast as I can in these shoes that don't want to stay on while Mom has on more decent shoes and a full bladder evidently makes her walk about twice as fast as normal. I look ridiculous tailing behind trying to keep up with her. As if we don't look ridiculous enough getting out of the truck and trekking around.

We go back to this building that we pointed out to begin with and realize we are still striking out. So, across Beltline road - a 6 lane divided road is a gas station. We jaywalk - correction - jayrun across the road and Mom hauls butt to get into the gas station. I yell at Mom, "I'll stand here on the sidewalk and try to get Dad's attention because he's going to have to turn to find us if the train ends."

I end up standing on this sidewalk along this busy road. I feel like a Harry Hines road reject or something standing out on a street corner. (You may have to be from Dallas to know exactly what that means.) With nothing else to do, I watch a mouse that ends up running into this shrub. Just as Mom comes back out, I warn her about the mouse as she's walking by and the train ends. (The mouse part is random.) We watch for Dad, and of course, he doesn't see us.

It takes us forever to get back across the six lane road because of the timing of the lights and the fact that an 18-wheeler blocked the intersection. Then, we aren't exactly sure where Dad ended up. Mom is still speed walking and I swear never to wear these shoes again, but thankfully we find him without a lot of trouble.

I think I hear crickets chirping now that the story has come to an end. I warned you it wasn't profound.