Oh my God. Oh my God. Tara and I road tripped home yesterday, but what everyone and his mother apparently knew that we didn’t was that there was a huge MOTHER of a blizzard rolling in. We were just hitting the road when Allison texted us an ominous “DRIVE SAFELY.” Then my dad called to say if we wanted to spend the night in a hotel, he’d pay for it. And to not take chances. And to make sure we had an emergency kit. “Thanks, Dad,” I said, at which point I hung up and said to Tara, “Apparently there’s going to be a blizzard?” I glanced outside; no snow, cloudless sky. “How bad could it possibly be?”
Four hours later, Tara was shouting at me, “YOU DID THIS! YOU JINXED IT!” while we skirted bluffs the size of some lesser mountains and struggled not to get squashed by a particularly reckless snowplow while wind, snow, and sleet pummeled the windshield. “There’s not even a road,” she said, banging her fist on the steering wheel. By this point, we had been in the car for six hours. She’d been driving for seven. “It’s essentially a free-for-all. The only rule is try not to hit other cars.”
We spent most of the drive listening to episodes of Loveline that featured Joseph Gordon-Levitt. This, Tara said, kept her calm and focused on the road. We are indebted to you, JGL. You saved us from a blizzard. You and your extensive sexual expertise.
Eventually, we ran out of episodes and instead played duets that we could both take part in. While Tara was driving, I was simultaneously trying to keep up with the directions on my phone’s GPS, text my increasingly worried father, and sing my part of “The Way I Do” from Starship.
All in all, I think we cheated death nine times, including about four during which the road just ceased to exist and we were driving on snow with no discernible lines or marks of any kind. My mother asked me if we had any close calls, and my response was to laugh-sob. But we’re home. (My mom and brother have ANOTHER snow day. Shocker. That brings the total up to 6.5.)