Roller Coasters

I was in 9th grade when my friends and I were at Dorney Park Day for our High School.  We were talking and goofing around going from ride to ride and I was not paying attention to what we would go on next.  Finish one ride; get in line for the next.  It was fun, and I was having a great time, until I found myself in line for the roller coaster.  
I don’t go on roller coasters; they scare the hell out of me.  I wasn’t paying attention, until we turned one corner in line and I could see people getting on the yellow car, and see the bar come down in their laps, and heard the car screech down the wooden tracks.  I started to feel my stomach knot up, how do I back out?  I wanted to scream and run away, but what would my friends say, my new friends, my pot smoking, class skipping friends?  How would they react to Bob the scaredy cat? 
Suddenly, I am transported back to six years old.  We had a family trip to Indian Trail Park.  They had a small wooden coaster that scared me to death.  My father waited in line with me, and he held my hand tight.  No matter how hard I tried I could not get free of his grip.  I pleaded, begged, and screamed.
“Dad, please, I don’t want to go on.”
“You're going to love it.”
“I’m scared.”
“Nothing to be scared of.”
“But I don’t want to go on.”
“Are you a fucking baby?”
“No, I’m just scared, please don’t make me go on.”
“It'll be over in two minutes.”
The closer we got to the ride, the more anxious and scared I got.  I started screaming and crying.  When we made it to the coaster my father put his arm around me and held me down on the seat and pulled the lap bar down. 
The ride operator looked at my father and said, “This his first time?”
My father nodded, holding me in place.  It was the most terrifying ride of my whole life.   
Now I am standing in line for one of the largest coasters I have ever seen.  I must have turned white because Brian said, “Hey, you OK?  You’re not afraid of a little coaster, are you?”
I didn’t say a word.  I mustered up every ounce of courage I could, sat down and pulled the safety bar to my lap.  As soon as it took off I felt my stomach tighten even more, along with my legs.  Then the coaster started to climb and climb and climb, I felt like any minute I was not going to be able to take it anymore and I was going to jump out.  As we came over the top of that hill, and I looked down,  straight down to the bottom, I heard a loud crack, and thought for sure the whole thing was falling apart and that I was going to die.  Then the speed kicked in and we were screaming down the hill, then up another and screaming down the next.  The fear seemed to transform into some kind of euphoria.  When that coaster stopped, I felt like I had left a part of myself on that hill.  I was no longer that scared little boy and I wanted to feel that fear again and again.     

The MRI

The congestion on the left side of my head did not seem that major, but when the month long antibiotic treatment my doctor put me on did not work, I began to become concerned.  Not extremely concerned, but enough so that when the next specialist I saw felt that I should get an MRI, I realized that I did not really have a choice.  So, the paperwork was filled out and the insurance company was notified.  It did not take long for me to get a call back from my insurance company.
“Mr. Brader?”
“Yes.”
“This is Marge from Freelancers Union.  We received all of your paperwork for the MRI and we believe it is a medical necessity, and we are going to cover the MRI.”
“That is great, thank you so much.”
“You're Welcome.  I hope things turn out for the best.”
I got off the phone with them feeling great about my insurance company, and feeling that with the money I have to pay them every month, finally it was paying off.
I missed a call from the Medical Center, but they did leave a message for me:
“Mr. Brader, we have you all set for your appointment tomorrow, just know that there is an amount due when you come in for the visit.”
I tried to call them back, but they had left for the day.  Knowing that my insurance company requires a co-pay, I was not worried.
The day of the MRI was an early morning, and I am not that great at early mornings.  Jumped out of bed at 7am, got dressed and Suzanne and I were ready to leave the house by 8:18.  We went to The Naked Café for breakfast and then ran over to the Medical Center for my 9:10 appointment.
The Center was huge and beautiful.  It looked like it was a brand new building.  We had to walk down a long corridor to office 110.  The door opened to reveal a large waiting area beautifully furnished.  Straight ahead were three different stations to talk with receptionists; to the right is the waiting area, large soft squishy chairs to sit in, wall to wall carpeting and a huge TV on the wall, with an aquarium video playing on it.  I walked up to the first receptionist.  She was a young lady with long black hair and a very reassuring smile.

“Can I help you?”
“I'm here for an MRI.”
“Name.”
“Bob Brader.”
She looked on her computer, nodded her head and grabbed a clipboard.
“I need you to fill these out.  Top page, verify name and address, sign at the bottom.  Next page, read and sign.  Next page, fill out this part and sign.  Next page, date and sign.  Next page, mark off all that apply, date and sign.  Next page, date and sign.  Next page, Initial here, date and sign.  Next page, date sign, initial at the bottom and then bring all of the forms up to me.”
I hate filling out these forms, it's always the same: no major operations, allergic to penicillin, I promise at this moment I feel like no matter how much you fuck up I will not sue you.  That one makes no sense  to me.  Of course if you fuck up I am going to sue you.  But I have to sign this form in order to have a doctor see me.  A very weird catch 22.  
Then comes a section that I have never seen before.  It is two columns going down the whole page asking about metal: 
Any wire sutures?
Any electrodes?
Neurosimulators?
Any metal slivers in eye?!!! 
What the fuck?!  I finally sign, date and initial every form and bring it back up to the nice receptionist.
“Thanks.  Would you like to take care of the payment?”  She asked in her nicest, and yet seemingly concerned voice.
“Sure, how much is it?”
“Six hundred and ninety five dollars.”
“What?  I have insurance, they told me I was covered.”
“You are covered, but you have a three thousand dollar deductible.  This rate is a discounted rate for you.  We tell the insurance company it was over a thousand.”
“This sucks.”
I look at Suzanne like I am ready to go, and I am.  It is Suzanne’s level head and her love for me that come through.
“What are you talking about?  We are here now.  Just put it on the credit card and we'll take care of it.  Nothing is more important than our health.  I love you, this is important.  We are doing this.”
So, I gave her our credit card and we went back to sit on the cushy chairs. We did not have to wait long before a technician came in.
“Bob..Bob Brader.”
I stood up.
“Right this way.  Can you verify your birth date for me?”
“9/15/67”
“Great.  Have you ever had an MRI before?”
“No, this will be my first.”
We started walking out the door.
“Our MRI area is under construction so we have these trailers that we are using for now.” 
It reminded me of the trailer that my grandparents lived in.  Small, but sturdy and I hoped secure.  I was also praying that no tornados were due to arrive during the time of my MRI.   We walked up five make shift steps to enter the trailer.

The whole place was very tiny and a bit cramped.  It was sectioned off into two areas.  The first was what I called the Tech Booth.  It was where the technician sat and ran the show.  Everything was on a desk that came out from the wall.  The desk ran the length of the tech section.  The main part of the desk was taken up with a computer that had two monitors.  At the end of the desk was a large box that the Tech opened with a key attached to a large yellow necklace.
“Do you have any valuables or wallet or jacket, please place it in here.  I will lock it and the key will stay in the room with you.”
I placed my jacket in the box and was lead through a door to the second part of the trailer, the MRI part.  The machine was huge and all white.  I felt small in front of it.  I laid down on the table, looking up at the Tech.  At that moment he reminded me of Ken Leung who played Miles on Lost.  I thought for a brief moment that maybe I was going to be transported into a different time or alternate reality.  But that daydream was broken by Miles.
“OK, so the test is about 15, 20 minutes and then you get an injection and we go for another 5 or 10 minutes.  Here, you are going to need these, it gets loud in there.”
He handed me a pair of squishy ear plugs.  They did not fit that well, but I did manage to cram them in.
“They want to see a dye test, and run it against the regular MRI.  Just relax and if you have any trouble just give this a squeeze and I will be in to help asap.”
He handed me what looked like an old fashioned camera bulb.  I smiled thinking that when you get really scared in the  tube, you squeeze the bulb and they get a picture of you looking all terrified.  Like they do on roller coasters. 
“Ready?”
I laid down on the table and nodded.  He pulled what looked like a plastic cage down to my shoulders, and had the table slide into the tunnel.  As my arms brushed against the side of the tunnel, I was suddenly in an immense state of fear.  I was transported to a different time.  It was a moment in my past that I had forgotten all about.  I was about 10 playing at my great-grandmother's house.  She lived around train tracks and there were lots of large pipes that you could climb in.  It was something I had done for years.  I would go down by the train tracks and hide in the large metal tubes.  They were very tight and it felt secure being in them.  On the day that was now flashing in my head I was playing with my friend Suzy and I was showing her the tubes.  Not sure why, but on this day I got stuck.  I couldn’t move.  I yelled for Suzy to help me, but she was scared and ran home.  I was alone and trapped. 
I squeezed the bulb.
“Hold it a minute.”  
He had the bed come back out of the tunnel, pushed the cage away from my face and I sat up.
“Sorry, I did not expect that to affect me that way.”
“No problem, lots of people go through that.  We have an open MRI machine about an hour and a half away.  I can set up an appointment for you at that facility.”
“No, it’s OK, let’s do it.”
I did not want to go to another hospital and go through all of this again, not to mention the fact that the other MRI may be more expensive.  Just relax Bob, just relax.  As I laid back down, I thought about getting out of the tube when I was a kid.

I knew I was too far away for anyone to hear me if I screamed.  I thought for a moment, catching my breath and telling myself to calm down.  Just relax Bob, just relax.  I sucked in my stomach and pulled my arms up over my head trying to make myself smaller and was able to wiggle my way out of the tube.  I never told anyone about that and Suzy and I were still friends, but the train tracks did not feel like such a safe place to be anymore, and I had to find another hiding place. 
I laid back down on the table and he pulled the cage down to my shoulders and I felt the table going back into the tube.  I took a few deep breathes, and only then did I noticed the mirror that was attached to the cage.  It was situated right over my eyes and positioned in such a way that I was able to see my feet, the whole room and a window looking into the Tech Booth.  Because of that mirror I did not feel trapped, and all of the fear disappeared.
I watched in the mirror as the Tech sat down and got ready.  I was not sure what to expect and when the broken symphony of distorted sounds started, I was intrigued by it.  I first started to think of songs that had that particular sound in them.  It was very random and I thought mostly of Nine Inch Nails and Ministry songs.  Before long, I saw the Tech come back into the room.
“OK, keep your head still and I will give you the shot and we can keep going.”
He did not remove the cage, and I could not see what he was doing at all.
“OK, just a little pinch, sorry about this.”
The needle hit with a slight sting and I was wondering how long this would take, because a regular shot is quick, and he is still standing here, and that needle is still in my arm.  It must have been a lot of fluid that was pumped into me, because it took a while.  At least that's how it felt not being able to see anything that was going on.
“OK, all done, almost finished now.”
I was starting to go back into the tunnel. 
This time the noise had two very distinct rhythms and sounds. The first one was like the opening guitar riff from AC/DC’s "Highway To Hell", and the other was a gentle light knocking sound, like something out of Tony Orlando and Dawn’s "Knock Three Times on the Ceiling if you Want Me".  I started to think that this machine was trying to measure my good side and my bad side, like it was trying to get a response from my Primus side as well as my Barry Manilow side.  This sent my brain into overdrive and my internal monologue took over.
“What can you really see over there Miles?  What is this brain showing you?  Can you see all the pain, all the joy, all the victories or the defeats that this brain has gone through?  All the loves, betrayals, heartaches and yearnings that this brain has encountered?  I have experience more than I ever thought I would, more then anyone ever thought I could.  I have fallen down below what I ever thought was bottom, and I have soared to highs that made me dizzy.  Can you see all the love I have for my wife or all the fear I have over this thing with my head?  Can you see if I am going crazy or if I am imaging this whole thing?  No, you can’t tell me any of that can you?  You have no idea what this brain has been through and your machine could never discover all of the things that we have experienced together." 
The table started moving out of the tunnel.  During my mind's rant I had forgotten all about the Tech sitting in the control booth and actually had my eyes closed.
“All done, Mr. Brader.”
He pushed the cage off my face.
“What will happen is someone will look over the MRI, write up a report and then send it to your doctor.  You should hear something by next week.”
 I walked out of the trailer and back into the hospital to get Suzanne.  She was sitting in one of the squishy chairs looking down at her iPhone, and I took a moment to look at her, like I tend to do from time to time, noticing just how beautiful she is, and feeling all of the love that I have for her and just soaking it in for a moment.  And my brain thought, that machine could never see that.

Getting there is half the fun. Come share it with us!

During our cross country trips, Suzanne has taken to writing down notes on different things that happen on the trip.  I wanted to include some of the notes here and embellish on them as needed.

CROSS-COUNTRY TRIP #5

DAY 1: 12/18/11
NYC to Salem, VA

Alexander Hamilton Rest Stop, NJ

Roy Rogers

Suzanne: which do you recommend? The egg cheese and sausage crescent or the breakfast platter?

Woman behind counter who does not understand English:  You want both?

Bob: You are not going to get an answer on that one.

Whoa! Having those windows open is like having a York Peppermint Patty!

Waiting for sandwiches at the Carlyle,Cumberland County, PA

SHEETZ:

ENT Guy 1: I got number 69!

ENT Guy 2: that's a good number!
(They both laugh very hard)

The brilliance that is Mix CD disc 2.  I made seven mix CD's for the car, Suzanne is partial to CD number 2! 

Restaurant du Grease at the BP

Still smelling the grease 20 minutes after leaving the place and we only got tea.

Light up Santa at the entrance of the La Quinta Hotel, BIG ASS blow up Santa behind the concierge desk - hotel employee a little bitchy especially when she finds out we did Hotels.com and she can't take our credit card.

Showtime, Chinese, Dexter finale.  We used our TomTom, and Suzanne called ahead to find a hotel that had Showtime so we would not miss the Dexter Finale!!  It was so worth it!!

DAY 2: 12/19/11
Salem, VA -> Jackson, TN

At IHOP:

Suzanne: "That bacon looks nothing like the bacon in the picture."

Highway Sign - "blasting today at 11:30". I-80

Disc 3 is playing Sting's "If I ever lose my faith in you" and just then when we're thinking and talking about Patrick we drive by a green sign that says "Montgomery Co."

Bob: OMG! Long John Silvers! Richard and I used to go to the mall and eat there because it was really cheap.

Waffle House!

Perkins!

Bob: Perkins is a little more dignified.

Suzanne: Just a smidgen.

Hampton Inn Front Desk person: Mrs. Breeder?

Suzanne: No!

DAY 3: 12/20/11

Jackson, TN to Russellville, AR

Abandoned gas stations, Shell firebomb and unmarked on west side bring us, hovering above red zone, to Exxon on east side of 40, we usually boycott Exxon, but in this case we made an exception.

Memphis.

Suzanne: We're in the city of my conception.

Bob: Are you feeling all tingly?

Suzanne: Yeah. But it may be the morning redhots.

Church with bright flashing billboard - Jesus is the reason for the season of Christmas.

DAY 4: 12/21/11

Russellville, AK to Amarillo, TX

Free hotel room courtesy of dumb ass night shift guy turning off the A/C in our room from the Main Office by mistake and the lovely day girl remedying the situation.

Cracker Barrell lady, a younger blond Kathy Bates wears a "mistletoad" on her apron: green frog wearing Santa hat!

Kickapoo Casino

Bob: I wanted to take a picture of that restroom.

Suzanne: Really?

Bob: Awww, it was bad.

Sign - Leaving Kickapoo Nation

Bob: For a while there we were part of the Kickapoo Nation.

Bob: That (white) car has an antler and a red nose and drives like a maniac!

 

(Seeing Hitchhiker) Bob: O My God, it's Bill Bixby.  Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

1/4 mile later:  Sign - Banner Road.

Bob: Maybe that's where that hitchhiker was going!

Gracefully avoiding the Chalet Inn at Groom, TX, a town with a massive creepy cross standing in its town center.

DAY 5: 12/22/11

Amarillo, TX to past San Jon, NM to Amarillo, TX to Odessa, TX

 Frozen tundra wonderland

Gray, cold northern Texas

No recycling at the Hampton Inn

29 degrees. Why is it so cold?

Sign - Bushland

Bob: Is that an amusement park?

Jersey Girl Pizza in Texas - great pizza

DAY 6: 12/23/11

Odessa,TX to El Paso, TX

A horse statue stands outside the Fairfield Inn. We don't know why.

Putting on disc 1 which starts with "Movin' Right Along" per Bob's request and simultaneously passing a green sign that says "Kermit"!!!!

Large collection of cameras, and mirrors on large stands on both sides of the road.

Bob: What the fuck was that? Are we getting our pictures taken or what? (Border Patrol vehicle parked nearby).

Bob: Maybe they were taking pictures of us to make sure that we're white.

Heavy Snow...weather advisory: I-10 is closed through New Mexico.

Stranded in El Paso for the rest of the day. 

So there you have it!!  Right now we are stuck in a hotel room waiting for the snow to end.  We hope to be on our way by tomorrow, or Christmas!!  

A few shots from the road!!!

The Test

My girlfriend Cindy had the monogamy level of a five-dollar hooker; of course I did not find this out until we were breaking up.  As our last fight was ending and she started to read off the long laundry list of men she slept with while we were dating, the only thought that went through my head was that old familiar phrase, “You are not only sleeping with her, but everyone she has ever slept with.”  As it turns out, I was fucking a lot more people then I thought. 

With that in mind, I decided it was time to take the test; the big test, the HIV test.  Now, this was in the summer of ’95, and I had no insurance, no idea where to get this test, and I wasn’t even sure what the test entailed.  After a lot of calling around, I found out that I could get it done, whatever it was, at a clinic in Jamaica Queens, and not only was it free, but it was also anonymous.  I walked into the hospital, it was a Wednesday morning and the place was empty.  I asked at the front desk about the HIV test and the lady  pointed to a large wooden door that had the word “clinic” written on a piece of paper taped to the door.  I walked in and it was a huge space.  They had TVs in every corner of the room looking down from the ceiling held up with brackets, and row after row of chairs except for an aisle that lead to the nurse behind the bulletproof glass that was so thick she had to use an intercom system in order for you to hear her.

“Can I help you?”  Her voice echoed throughout the empty space.

“I’m here to take an HIV test.”

“Fill this out.”

I filled out the card and placed it back through the paper-thin slot under the bulletproof glass.

“Have a seat, the doctor will be with you any moment.”

I sat alone in that huge space thinking about nothing but how much I hated Cindy for making me feel paranoid enough to even take this test. 

The nurse called me into the doctor’s small room.  The exam table was just large enough for you to sit on, and across from it was a metal cabinet crowded with jars of cotton balls, tongue depressors, Q-tips, normal things in a doctor’s office, but there seemed to be no order to anything it was just thrown together.

“Take your pants off and sit up on the table, the doctor will be with you soon.” The nurse was then out of the door in a flash.

I took my pants off and sat on the cold metal table.  Now I am having images of choking Cindy with my bare hands.

The door opens and in walks the oldest doctor I have ever seen in my life.   He has white hair, walking really slow and looking very confused.  The only real way I knew he was the doctor was because he wore a white coat and had a stethoscope.  The image of Tim Conway from “The Carol Burnet Show” jumped into my head and I almost laughed.

“HIV test?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You like to be checked for other sexually transmitted diseases, yes?”

“Sure.”

With that being said, in a flash, the doctor grabbed my dick like some kind of angry lover and very roughly examined ever inch of it.  Now the doctor has ceased to be funny in my mind, he was starting to scare me.  While he still had the stem of my dick in his hand, he reached over and grabbed a long Q-tip out of one of the containers and in one quick motion rams it into my dick.

“OW!”

“Sorry about that.”  Now I am thinking that this doctor just wants to torture me.  He yanks the Q-tip out and releases my dick. 

“I do not see any warts or lesions or puss, so that is good.  The nurse will be in to take your blood, you can put your pants on.”

As he waddled out of the room, I could not help but feel violated.  Now I am thinking no matter what the results, I want to tell Cindy I have something just so she has to go through this hell.

As I am pulling my pants back up the nurse comes in.

“Hold out your arm.”

She grabs my arm and jabs the needle in a vein and fills up a vile.

“So, which test is the HIV test?”

“This one is, the blood needs to be analyzed to find out if you are positive or negative.  I had you take off your pants, because I knew the only reason a white boy like you would come to a clinic like this was because he stuck his dick in something he should not have stuck his dick in.  Am I right?”

“Well, I guess that is true.”

“And nobody will know that you ever came in here to take this test, unlike if you went to your family doctor who would have to put the results in your file.  That’s why I figured you’d want to get checked for everything while you were here.  All finished, you can come back in three weeks for the results.”

She put a label on my blood and I was out the door. 

After I left the hospital I thought about how stupid I was being, worrying over this test.  I am not sick, I feel great, and I am just being very silly.  The day to go in and get my results came and went and I felt no reason to go in and get the results, I am fine.

Then the letter came.  It was from the clinic. 

Dear Mr. Brader,

A few weeks ago, you came into the clinic to take an HIV test.  The results of your test are in and it is imperative that you come into the clinic and get your results.  Please report to the clinic on Saturday, August 22.

It is amazing how only one word stood out in that letter, the word imperative.  Fuck, I knew I was sick.  Christ, I have this fucking disease.  I knew that was not just a black and blue mark on my leg, when did I hit my leg against anything?  My throat has been sore for the last few days, and that is not normal.  I am going to die.

When I walked into the clinic on August 22, it was a totally different scene than when I was there the first time.  All of the seats were full, people were all over the place, and all of the televisions were on.  The noise was deafening.  I went up to the bulletproof glass.

“I am here to get the results of my HIV test!”

“Name!”

“Bob Brader!”

“Have a seat!”

I turned and looked for a seat, it was not easy to find, but I did and started to notice everything that was going on in the room.  All of the television sets were on and two of them had Magic Johnson talking about dealing with AIDS.  One of the other ones had a video on about a man who had an affair with a prostitute and has to tell his wife that he has AIDS and she needs to get tested for it.  The other set had a doctor talking about living with AIDS and the different drugs that are available.  The TVs were freaking me out even more, so I started looking around the room at the people waiting.  Nine gang members were sitting in one corner, all of them crying.  Not just a tear, but openly weeping, loudly.  A mother was holding her baby, crying and screaming.  A family on the opposite end of the room were all looking at their one son and shaking their heads.  The rest of the waiting room was filled with people like me, anxiety-ridden people waiting to get that result. 

Then it hit me, that is why they called me in on this day.  Everyone here has it, this just makes it easy for them.  If you are here on this day, you have the disease.  At this realization, I go into a panic, I am having trouble breathing, I am sweating and I am shaking.  I look over at the gang members who are now hugging each other and wailing.  Who am I going to be able to hug when they tell me?  How do I tell my mom that I am going to die?  How the fuck am I going to be able to afford all of those drugs this doctor is talking about?  The room is spinning, all the blood in my infected body is rushing to my feet and I feel like I am going to pass out.

“Bob Brader.”

“AH!”

A man dressed in all white carrying a clipboard calls my name.  He is the Messenger of Death, and he wants me to fallow him to the doctor’s office.  He looks like a very nice guy, and this very nice man holds the secret to the rest of my life in the palm of his hand.  Once we are in the office and he closes the door, he throws the clipboard on the desk. 

“I guess you want to know what your results are?”

“Yes, I do.”

He takes his pen, puts it under the top page of the clipboard and flips the page up.

The word NEGATIVE was in big bold letters on the center of the page, and nothing else.  The Angel of Death said some more things while I was in the room with him, but I have no idea what they were.  I ran out of that clinic, with the feeling that I had just cheated death. 

Driving Test

This is in honor of my one year anniversary of being a licensed driver!!

We pulled up in front of the DMV and I was incredibly nervous.  These three girls were standing out front, all of them very perky, young and pissed.
“He said I wasn’t going fast enough, and last time he said I went too fast.  They can fuckin’ eat me.”
Her girlfriends were in total agreement, and I knew I had to divert my attention.  None of them realize what a huge responsibility a license is. 
He looked to be about fifty, balding with grey hair forming a perfect horseshoe on the side of his head, and he had a very friendly smile.  He had a small black canvas case in his hand that held the small computer that would decide my fate. 
I got into the driver’s side, and he got into the passenger side.  He started fumbling around with all of these papers that he had inside the canvas case, trying to get the computer ready.  The papers were folded in all different ways, it looked amazingly unorganized and I immediately thought of Columbo.  He wants me to think he is a bumbling mess, so he can trip me up on this test.

“AAAA…Do you have your permit?”
I handed him my permit without saying a word.  I am innocent Mr. Columbo, I know how to drive. 
“And  AAAA...Your certificate for the class.” 
I pulled it out of my pocket in a second.
He scanned that certificate and handed me back my permit.  He was still fumbling around with all of his papers when he said: “When you are ready you can pull out.”

I waited, put my seatbelt on, fixed my mirrors, even though I didn’t need to, and turned the key with my foot on the brake.  You are not going to trip me up on the easy stuff Mr. Colombo.  I put on my turn signal and got ready to pull out.  I checked my blind spot by turning my head; something that I kept forgetting to do during my driving lessons, and I started easing out. Just then little miss perky and pissed with her two friends decided to run in front of the car.  I stopped easily and even waved them along.  You see how relaxed I am Mr. Columbo?
We started down the road a bit and he was still fumbling with his papers.
“AAAA…Make a left up here.”
I hit the blinker and made a beautiful left turn; I think it was a personal best. 
“AAAA...Pull up to that car and Parallel Park.”
I hit the blinker, Looked at my blind spots and started backing up, but as I was going back I noticed I was pretty far away from the curb, so I pulled it in a little more, then straightened out and put it in park.  It was not horrible, but not great. 
“Now make a three point turn please.”
I hit the blinker, checked the mirrors and pulled out.
“You need to check behind you  when pulling out right?”  Columbo has now stopped playing with his papers.
I made the rest of the turn well and we went back down the street. 
“Turn right at the stop sign.”
We are heading back to the DMV.  Oh well, I thought, maybe I shouldn’t be behind the wheel anyway.  The dreams, the fear, it’s all telling me to stay in my place.  Why did I think I could do this?
I made the turn. 
“Now at the next street, make a right.”
The test wasn’t over, and I suddenly felt like I had a shot at passing this test.  As soon as I made the turn I saw a huge truck in my lane, not moving at all.  We drove up the street to the truck; traffic on my left was coming in the opposite direction.  I had to wait; this wait was amazingly stressful.  Car after car just kept coming down the road.  I had hoped he would go back to fumbling with his papers.  Instead he just sat there watching me.  It seemed to last forever.  I was just about to make my move when a red sports car came flying down the road.  I turned to Columbo.
“This sports car seems like it’s in a hurry, so I’m going to wait for him.”
He nodded and just kept watching me. 
I passed the truck, hit my blinker and immediately went over to my lane. 
“Make a left here.”
I made the turn and it was good, not great, but good.
“Make the next left.” 
I couldn’t see a left turn coming up, no signals, no road marker, no only lanes, no turn lanes. 
“Left, the next left!”
Finally I noticed the turn.  It looked like a driveway, but it was really a road.  I signaled and went for the turn, just as I was in mid-turn a guy ran across the street.  I waited for him in the middle of the road, then proceeded to make the turn.
“Sorry I didn’t see the turn.”
“Not all turns are marked with a sign or signal.  Sometimes you just have to look.”

We drove down the road. 
“Make a right here and pull over.” 
I looked and noticed that we were right across the street from the DMV, a block from where we started.  Columbo went back to fumbling with his papers and I was just relieved it was over.  I had been stressing about this test for so long, and now I knew what to expect.  Next time it will seem easier, and I do need more practice, this was a bit sloppy, I totally understand him failing me.
He pushed a few buttons on the computer and then a piece of paper flowed out of his machine, like a credit card slip.
“Please sign this.”
He looked annoyed, and in a hurry.
I was looking for a retest date or for him to tell me again about all of the mistakes I made that forced him to fail me. 
“This is your temporary license, keep it with your permit until you receive your permanent license.”
“You mean I passed?”
“Yeah.”
He got out of the car and I was shocked and shaken.  I got an adrenaline rush that made my whole body shake.  Every part of my body was excited and invigorated.  I did it!  I passed!  Aubry, my driving teacher, drove me home, and only after I got home and it was all over did the fear come back.

Why did he give me a license?  I’m not ready to be a driver.  I still make stupid mistakes.  How could that guy have passed me?  Was he paid off by someone? How can he know that I am ready to put other people’s lives in jeopardy, with only a five minute test?  He doesn’t know how good I am under pressure.  How well I am going to be able to handle going 70 miles per hour?  He doesn’t know my fears or doubts.  I was so excited to get my license, but I knew I should not be on the road.  Maybe he felt sorry for me, poor 42 year old guy, still not driving, poor loser.  How can he tell I’m not crazy, that I’m not going to ram the car into some poor child or hit pedestrians crossing the street?  I mean hell, they are right there in front of me.  Just some pressure on the gas and bang I have just changed that person’s life forever.  Could I live with that?  Can I accept that I won’t do those things?  That I won’t get drunk and think I can drive home?  Can I handle the responsibility of being behind the wheel?  Who the fuck does that guy think he is; with the push of a button he has put tons of steel and glass legally at my disposal.  Didn’t he notice I wasn’t ready?  Did I fool him?  Or was he just not paying attention.

This is Vegas?

Suzanne happens to be one of the biggest Vegas fans I know. She can name almost all of the hotels on the strip, knows where the best shopping is, the best places to eat, she loves Vegas. At the risk of being unpopular, especially with my wonderful wife, I did not like Vegas. Maybe it was because we only had one night to see everything, but the whole place looked to me to be all set up and no bang. It was like being at Disney World with all of the magic and fantasy of a major attraction, without the satisfaction of getting on a ride.
We got majorly lucky in the fact that we got set up in a hotel that we should have never been set up in. We got into some deal that was being done with Planet Hollywood, and their new condo. They were having people stay over to try and sell them a condo. It was way less than it should have been and it was like being a celebrity. It had a great view of the strip, huge TV and two smaller ones throughout the room, huge bed, Jacuzzi in the bedroom, huge bathroom, wonderful shower and a special door for the john. It was the most amazing room I have ever had the pleasure of staying in. If we had stayed in the room, I think I would have loved Vegas.
It was venturing out into that world that gave me pause. I am not a gambler, I never have been. To me gambling is fun for about an hour maybe two. I will play the slots for a bit, a little electronic poker, and maybe watch some people play blackjack but then I am done. I just don’t like playing games like that when I know that I am just not going to win. I find it boring. So, we walked around a lot and I got to see a lot of Vegas. It is very pretty, and reminded me a lot of Disneyworld. Every moment I was like, “What ride is this?” Only to find out it was just another casino.
Vegas just left me a bit cold. Especially the day after, when all of the neon is off and you can see that they are just buildings, and you notice the people walking with their heads down. You can feel loss and emptiness.
However, here are some of the things I loved about Vegas: the Bellagio fountains were beautiful and I was really happy I got a chance to see them, the big ball of light from the show Vegas, the Caesars Palace shopping area was amazing, our room, and being in that place with Suzanne was what really made it special.
I am hoping to go back to Vegas again and see what my wife and millions of people every year see. I know I am missing something, I just don’t know what it is.

Day Three!

It was a very smooth five hour drive from Yulee, Florida to Palm Beach, Florida. Florida is a huge state!! The highlight of the trip was finally getting to our destination, and the burning field we passed on the road. I am pretty sure this was some kind of arranged field burning, because lots of cop cars were around, and no one was doing anything. It was so beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Sometimes there is beauty in destruction. We have had a ball getting this together and will be posting more when we start out on Thursday morning going to Anna Maria Island!