Cousin Amy was scheduled for a visit from California. To save loads of money, she decided to fly into Syracuse, New York. Not too bad of a drive to pick her up, but the rub was that her flight landed at 8:36 a.m. Which meant that I’d have to forgo my favourite thing in the world to go pick her up . . .sleep.
Figuring out that I’d have to wake up at about 3:15 a.m. to make it to Syracuse on time meant that I’d have to get to sleep really early the night before. Riiiiiiight. Yeah, like that could happen.
I’m one of those people that needs my sleep. So when I finally nodded off at just past 11, I knew I was going to be a sleepy driver at four a.m. Good thing coffee is available 24/7 in our town.
I was out of the house at 4:15 a.m. Peter thought I should allow myself plenty of time at the border, just in case there was a line up or something. I felt confident if not a little muzzy-headed as I pulled onto Highway 15 to make my way towards Brockville and the 401.
The complete darkness lent a surreal cast to my drive. It’s hard to describe the utter black and feeling that I was driving on a hamster wheel, not really getting anywhere. My headlights only cast so much light, and there are so many trees that when you’re sleep deprived like I was, things started looking a little bizarre. Like the sun would never come up, that the trees were chasing me, that I was really the only one on the road.
Yes, I needed to go back to bed.
Expecting a long wait at the border, I was quite surprised when I whizzed through, the only car out at that ridiculous hour.
When Amy finally arrived, my goofiness had already kicked in from lack of sleep. Of course, Amy had it over me. Her flight was so awful that she didn’t sleep at all, and they weren’t even nice enough to bring along her luggage.
When I asked Amy if she could fly into Ottawa next time, she said probably not.
“Why not? Don’t you think I deserve sleep?”
“If I landed in Ottawa I wouldn’t be able to eat at the Cracker Barrel.”
So guess where we went?
Amy is a very picky eater, and cheese is on the no-freakin’-way list. So when we ordered breakfast, she was distraught that the only hash browns available were in a cheesy hash brown casserole.
When the server arrived, I asked if we could get the hash brown casserole without the casserole. The server blinked a couple of times and replied “No, but I can make you some plain hash browns if you like.”
Good enough.
Bellies full, we stopped to fill up the car. I approached stress when I tried to stick the gas hose in my tank and it wouldn’t fit. Panic set in as I wondered aloud why American gas hoses don’t fit in my Canadian gas tank.
Amy leaned out the window and told me that I was trying to put diesel in my car. Oops.
Ten minutes of laughter later, we knew it was going to be a good trip.
