On Friday, Elysha, the kids, and I went to New York City to see “Two Strangers (Carry a Cake Across New York)” on Broadway.
We met Elysha’s parents for the show — our Christmas gift to them.
The show was recommended by a client whose recommendations are always excellent.
She was correct again.
We had hoped to go to dinner after the show, but since snow was forecast for later that afternoon, we decided to cancel dinner and beat the snow home.
That plan did not work. The snow moved into the region much faster than anticipated, and it was already snowing by the time we emerged from the theater. We managed to escape from New York on relatively clear roads, but by the time we reached the Hutchinson River Parkway, the roads had become treacherous, and speeds were reduced to less than 20 miles per hour.
By the time we reached Interstate 684, the windshield wipers began to freeze up, and by the time we reached Interstate 84, I could barely see. Traffic had slowed to about 10 miles per hour. Most motorists were driving with their hazard lights flashing. We spotted at least two dozen cars that had slid off the highway into snow drifts and ditches. We drove past two jackknifed tractor-trailers and at least two accidents.
Three times, I was forced to pull over and get out of the car to clear the wiper blades of ice and pound away the ice that had built up on the windshield with my fists and elbows.
Meanwhile, inside the car, we boiled. We had to run the heat so high to keep the windshield clear that everyone was sweating. Charlie removed his shoes and socks. Everyone stripped down to T-shirts. Elysha’s iPhone stopped charging because it was overheating in the 85-degree interior.
It wasn’t an easy trip.
More challenging than the driving conditions was the stamina required.
We made the trip to New York City in just over two hours.
Our trip home took more than five hours. Five hours of intense concentration to keep the car on the road and us safe.
Elysha and Clara were understandably worried. As we drove past cars in ditches and accident scenes, they worried we might suffer the same fate.
I was less concerned. As long as I kept my speed down, I knew I’d be fine. The visibility was challenging, but even that was manageable. It required me choosing safe spots to pull over to clear the windshield and wipers, but as long as I pulled in front of a car already parked on the side of the road — and there were plenty — I would be fine.
Charlie was completely relaxed. When Clara asked him why he was so chill, he said, “I know Dad is a good driver. He’ll get us home safe.”
I appreciated that.
About an hour from home, Charlie asked, “Was it worth it?”
He was asking if it was worth the five hours of driving through this mess. I could only remember one other time I was forced to drive in similar conditions, but that trip was less than an hour long.
This was more than five times as long.
But my answer was quick:
Of course it was.
The trip was long and treacherous, but we saw a Broadway show. Admittedly, we see a lot of them, but every chance you have to see a show of that caliber should be treasured. And we all loved it. The show was funny, surprising, poignant, and memorable. Parts of the characters’ journey spoke to me.
I won’t ever forget it.
We also spent time with Barbara and Gerry. Always a fine way to spend an afternoon.
We ate a decent lunch at a Food Emporium.
When the employee told me there were no public restrooms, I found the employee break room at the end of an aisle, with a sign reading “Employees Only.”
I went inside and found a restroom.
I hoped to teach Charlie that some doors were made to be opened, even when the sign said otherwise.
Plus, we have the journey. Yes, it was long and hard and even a little scary at times, but we’ll never forget it. We’ve driven to New York hundreds of times, but most of those trips have been forgotten because they were uneventful.
I’m not complainingn. Uneventful is lovely, too. A simple, two-hour drive to the city is fantastic.
But it’s also pretty great to have a few trips that you’ll never forget. Trips that burn themselves into your brain to the point that a decade later, you’ll be driving through a minor snow squall and say, “Hey, remember that time we went to New York to see a show, and the trip home took four hours?”
“No, it was more than five hours!” someone will say. “And it was so hot in the car, we took our shoes and socks off!”
“Remember how Dad had to keep pulling over to clear the windshield.”
“That was crazy,” someone else will say. “Mom wanted us to pull over and get a hotel.”
“Yes,” she’ll say. “But Dad refused.”
“Yes,” someone else will say. “He kept saying, ‘What one man can do, another can do.’ A quote from some movie.”
“I’ll never forget that trip.”
“Me, either.”
That is why it was worth it, Charlie. All of it made it worth it.
Every little bit of it.
