Well, It Ain't the Ritz

But it's home.....

To wrap up our trip to Lake Oconee. After we learned that the car was possessed - okay, the electronic locks were all cattywampus - I ruled that The Dancer was not going to drive to Athens by herself. Imagine, if you will, she's driving alone for an hour, nervous, on unfamiliar roads, on her way to a really important audition, still feeling sick and no sure how often she'll need an emergency bathroom break. Add to the mix, being locked into the car and well - I wasn't having it. It seemed like an invitation for more trouble.

So she extricated herself from the car and went back to the room to sleep while I attended my meetings. The University emailed us and someone is supposed to call about possibly rescheduling the audition. Here's hoping.

Finally, The Dancer and I got on the road. It was a quiet, uneventful trip, punctuated by the sound of an occasional received text message or me asking her if she was still doing okay. We zoomed along in the possessed car, sealed in tightly and all locked up.'

We arrived home and I pulled into the garage. The Dancer exhaled a long breath. "Man, do I have to pee," she said.

I switched off the ignition. "Me, too," I agreed, undoing my seat belt. "This stuff is going to have to wait." I gestured over my shoulder at the luggage.

Automatically,we both reached for the car doors. Click. Click. They weren't budging. Oh, fuckery. Having to pee is great motivation to move quickly. We bumped heads as we clambered over the car seat and went tumbling out of the passenger's side rear door (the only one that had stayed unlocked). Shoving and fighting each other all the way up the stairs, we reached the top, and ran down the hall to the bathroom.