Trust Me

I have a wedding coming up in 3 weeks! 3 weeks! Well, not mine actually, but my son's. Way too young to get married, and she's a mere baby, but they are such a cute couple.




Anyway, in anticipation of that event in Utah...
I am humbly reminded of my niece's wedding in Chicago about 5 years ago. They knocked themselves out to create an unforgettable experience for their guests as well as themselves, but unfortunately the totally indelible aspect I can't forget no matter how hard I try is the transportation one. You see, I drove. Rented a car all on my own and fancied myself a big girl. In the driver's seat, so to speak. Although not previously known for my prowess with directions and all, on the road or even in the house (often I would get lost at home trying to get back to the kitchen from the bathroom), I was confident that I could easily get around there, having grown up in the Garden Spot of the Midwest. Kind of primal instinct, no?

Not wanting to show off though, I believe I followed son-in-law Shane's van from the airport to the hotel the first day. Then drove the entire distance across town to Midway that evening to pick up my son Jared, who had flown in from San Diego. Figured he must have been terribly impressed with how I navigated Lake Shore Drive, and got us to the rehearsal dinner at the downtown restaurant. A little aggravation parking, and that was it. I was feeling goooooooood. So when it was time to return to our hotels, I nobly scooped a few tired souls into my car to ferry them the half hour or so to their waiting beds. I think it was lovely daughters Afton & Treesje who joined us.

Three or four hours later, we ambled in. Not to bore with the details, but suffice it to say, every freeway I got on, I was determined that I knew the way, no matter what anyone else said. From the Indiana border to the Wisconsin one, I always knew I had to be going in the right direction. After all, I grew up here. It was in my blood to know.

The first hour or so, my passengers were politely questioning me. But as time wore on, nerves were on edge. Found out daughter Torrey & son-in-law Chris had stayed at the hotel with the one year old twins, and were waiting for us to bring them dinner. A little pressure. By 1 am, when we were pulling up to their hotel, the girls had relapsed and were silently fuming, when Jared jumped out of the car before I stopped, cussed and threw his suitcase to the ground, clothes spilling into the moonlight. What's life without a little drama?

The next day I think everyone else somehow managed to get other rides to the historic Catholic Church. Me? Undaunted, I made it by myself there in plenty of time. Luck can change,right? And following the ceremony, I needed to leave to make another airport run. This time for #4 son Wayne, who also flew from San Diego, so he could at least make the reception. He called me when he got in and I told him I was circling the pick up route. "Oh, is that you behind the white van?" he inquired. "No, see me, I'm behind the black Mercedes." His reply, "You mean you're the dark red Mazda behind the bus?" "No, Wayne, I'm over here, see me behind the tan SUV? I'm the blue Olds." "Don't see you Mom." "Where on earth are you Wayne, you said you were standing right out here?" "I am, right out here at O'Hare with everyone else." "O'Hare? You're not supposed to be at O'Hare. You're supposed to be here across town at Midway, just like Jared was last night." In hindsight, I suppose communication is a valid concept. My sister Dianne and her husband were dispatched to pick him up at O'Hare. Good thing family is family, and good family at that.

So I turned around and headed back East to the other side of town to apologize and turn over my car keys. About an hour later the signs on the side of the road indicated I was almost to Iowa. Had a recent tornado relocated the state to the other side of Illinois? Not sure of that, I decided to turn around. Unfortunately the car wreck of the decade had just made turning around impossible and a huge traffic snarl to boot prevented movement any way at all. After a huge delay I managed to get off onto some other road and with a hit and miss strategy, I patchworked my way back to the hotel just in time to leave for the reception. No one was amused by my absence of many hours, echoes of the personal approval I had engendered only the night before. An executive decision was made--I believe several "executives" were involved, and it was unanimous, and I was not allowed to drive the 2 miles to Brookfield Zoo, site of the reception, by myself. I unceremoniously plopped in someone's back seat. You could call it functional. Or perhaps, hostile.

Now the only reason I mention this at all is that with this Utah wedding looming, I want people to know, I have learned my lesson. Let me just reassure you all. I am not renting a car. I'm driving my own. And for general information, I didn't grow up in Utah. I went to college there 40 some years ago, and even though I didn't drive then or even get around campus much, I do know my way around all of Utah. You can safely ride with me. I guarantee it. It's in my blood.