Long Day’s Journey through the Night

The holiday season stirs memories of seasons past. This is a story of one holiday trip my family experienced years ago.

Disclaimer: No apologies if family and friends who accompanied me on this journey challenge my version of events.

Hour 1

Christmas vacation offered a perfect time to visit aging relatives and younger cousins in the Sunshine State, and my family welcomed the thought of time outdoors in balmy weather. We packed bathing suits, left our two old cars home, rented a roomy four-door Dodge Intrepid sedan, and steered south.

We did not journey alone. My girlfriend, her boyfriend, his daughter, and her two sons were also leaving town for the holidays. Their Subaru Impresa and our Dodge formed a mini-motorcade packed with four adults, five kids aged 8 to 16, and piles of luggage.

Nine of us piled into our cars in Lancaster, PA, on a late December afternoon and headed out on the open road.

Unfortunately the road was not so open. 

Traffic haunted us for part of the trip, but the first hour posed no problems.

Hour 2

We merged onto I-95 outside Baltimore. The timing proved dreadful: peak rush hour. We crawled around the city, suburbs, and onto the beltway that bypasses Washington, D.C. Slow but steadily moving traffic turned into a turtle-tempo creep, then an annoying stop-and-go crawl.

One more time we came to a standstill. A wide shoulder and cement wall bordered us on our right. Suddenly a jeep-like vehicle careened past us on the shoulder, wobbled, flipped over, and struck the wall. A small dog jumped out of a side window and ran into the road. Daisy, a fearless 16-year-old animal enthusiast, jumped out of her car and ran to rescue the dog. Daisy’s Dad flew out of his car and darted after his daughter and the dog. Sirens could be heard in the distance as emergency vehicles approached. Folks ran from cars around us to help the accident victims.

Daisy rescued the dog and returned him to his grateful owner. The rest of the kids, not allowed to leave their seats, grumbled, but safety came first. 

A few minutes later, the excitement over, our journey continued.

Hour 3

A refrain of “Hold it…wait…we’ll stop soon…only a few more minutes…damn traffic,” aimed at whiney voices from the backseat repeated as nature’s call could not be ignored. But we were determined to limit rest stops. Exiting the highway, driving on traffic-clogged streets, and locating a place with minimally clean restrooms, took time. 

Traffic eased as rush hour ended and high-density commercial and residential areas transformed into a more welcoming landscape of trees, fields, and small towns as we drove through Virginia. The troops were getting restless and hungry, bladders demanded attention and demands to GET OUT OF THE CAR NOW grew louder. 

Hour 4

We left the highway for dinner.

Why does it take so long for nine people to make decisions? “What do you want for dinner…Times up! Make a choice or I’ll make it for you…Did you pee yet? You complained for the last hour and now you don’t have to go!…Not hungry? We’re not stopping again until breakfast…I don’t care if you don’t like the food. Eat or starve. And don’t moan that you’re hungry later…”

The kids ran off pent-up energy while adults engaged in table talk: How can you limit kids’ liquid intake? How many pee stops will we have to make? Will we survive until morning? I’ll never make it through the night. I’m tired already. 

Why didn’t we fly to Florida?

Hour 5

Night descends early in December, and most of the trip occurred in darkness. The adults began to get drowsy, while the younger generation seemed energized. Occasionally kids switched cars so they could fight with someone else. Meanwhile adults swapped drivers, and as the hours passed dozed – when not driving, of course.

Hour 7

The clock rolled into the next day. The kids calmed down and snoozed. No kids fought or whined, no adults scolded kids, just a calm drive through North Carolina, then South Carolina. 

Before each break we told everyone, “Be back in the car, belted and ready to go in 10 minutes.” 

Never happened. An impossibility when nine people and two cars had to be indulged. We filled the gas tank, visited restrooms, purchased caffeinated coffee to ensure consciousness, bought snacks the kids demanded, adults too drained to argue. We didn’t lose anyone! We counted before leaving each stop.

As kids chomped snacks, the younger ones stuffing themselves on the way to stomach aches, we returned to the road.

Hour 8

I lapsed into a midnight siesta. I know because the kids later made fun of my snoring.

Hour 10

Road signs told me we were in Georgia. I found myself behind the wheel and somewhat awake after my nap and coffee. Everyone else was in a dazed state brought on by a combination of exhaustion, discomfort (how many hours can anyone sit in a car?), and the car’s movement and humming.

Hour 11

An undercurrent of creatures stirring and muddled murmurs enveloped the car. Then the pleas began: “I have to pee. Me too. I’m hungry. I gotta stand up. I need to stretch my legs. Where are we? How much longer do we have to drive?”

Are we there yet?

I could barely make out the road sign in the dark: Welcome to Florida.

Hour 13

Breakfast! 

I managed to avoid dining at a Waffle House for my entire 40+ years on earth. Until this trip. The yellow sign flashing in the distance was the signal for bodies around me, and in the car behind me, to shout out STOP! 

The Waffle House in Jacksonville, FL, witnessed nine bedraggled humans shuffle into their establishment at a still-dark 6:00 a.m. Car-weary folks rubbed their eyes, yawned, looked around for the bathrooms, and suddenly got enough energy to sprint. Bladders required attention before stomachs could be satisfied. 

My opinion of the chain restaurant did not change after actually experiencing the place. Greasy food, greasy table, greasy floor – an unclean aura permeated the establishment. Or maybe my tired, glassy eyes deceived me.

But I don’t think so.

Hour 14

Jacksonville was our separation point. Our friends had five more hours to drive before reaching their destination – Fort Lauderdale. My family was going to visit friends in Lake Wales, in the middle of the state.

As the first rays of the sun emerged, we bid our friends farewell and piled back into our rented Dodge Intrepid. 

Three hours to Lake Wales. 

Two and a half hours to Naples. Then a soft, comfortable chair! a real bed! A night’s sleep! 

But first a glass of wine (adults only, of course).