Sure enough, I started reacting after about 3 miles and took my drugs. The issue became this though: taking lots of antihistamine would stop the reaction in it's tracks...but also make it impossible for me to stay awake. I was bound and determined to drive to Nikki's house before night fall and knew that the reaction was slowing. I walked home and started packing, letting the reaction run its course. I hid in my room and debated how to make it past the roommates. You see, I live with kind wonderful amazing young women who drove me to the ER and sat by my hospital bed a couple months ago when I had a crazy strong reactions. So, I was a little hesitant that they'd willingly let me out of the house with my droopy eye lids, puffy lips, and reddened hive ridden skin. Fortunately, after minor questioning, I was trusted and permitted to start the trip.
The drive went amazingly smoothly (I'm only a good navigator when I'm also not driving). I hastily picked out a couple audiobooks from the library before stopping to fill up and buy some caffeine on the way. When I reached Nikki's house, I discovered I'd parked in a huge puddle as I tried to make my way around the back of my car to get my bag. I squealed loudly as I found myself soaked to the ankle in freezing water and became acutely aware of the neighbor fellas working on their truck next to the garage. Nikki was kind enough to leave her garage door open, but was unable to hear me knocking. After several minutes of pounding and attempting to reach her by phone (without any reception). I was faced with three perceivable options. I could keep pounding on the door, start opening and closing her garage door until she heard from upstairs, or visit next door (the guys could totally hear my random pounding on the door). At that precise moment as I stood on the cusp of branching out into greeting the neighbors or going crazy with the garage door button, I was discovered and started enjoying a perfectly lovely weekend with Nikki. I will skip the details. I enjoy spending time with this lady just to spend time with her. Know that we made some baked goods and painted the town red. That's about all that's important
 |
| This is Nikki! |
Skipping ahead to Sunday afternoon, Nikki walked me out to my car to say goodbye. She was the first to notice that the 6 inch deep puddle had frozen around my passenger side tires. I was able to rock the car slightly forward and back, but it became clear that we'd need to try something else. Before we could get the shovel or put a support under a tire though, Nikki's neighbor walked over. I had a limited vantage point, but it appears as though the not at all ugly twenty something propped his legs up on the mountain of snow in front of my car and started doing push-ups against the hood (I cannot complain about the view from behind the wheel). Despite her sandals, Nikki joined in and they pushed me free (I told you she's amazing, did I not?). Seeing their shocking display of physicality, I mentally committed to working out upon reaching La Crosse.
In a rush to not look awkward in front of the neighbor I hastily programmed the GPS to go "home" assuming it wouldn't lead me astray. Finishing Mindy Kaling's delightful autobiography, I popped in an audiobook by Samantha Bee (chosen for the familiar looking cover). The content of this book is well phrased but disturbing. I listened with confused disgust. Unsurprisingly, I missed a turn. I decided to make it look intentional by stopping at a Kwiktrip to fill up, buy some "just in case" oil, and pick up a coffee. In the excitement of learning that a refill is significantly less expensive than a new cup of coffee, I entirely neglected to fill up and buy oil.
A while later, I recalled that the fuel needle of my car is notoriously dishonest. So, despite having a good deal of fuel remaining, I kept my eyes open for green signs boasting my favorite gas stations. Seeing none, I thought to myself, "This sounds like a job for Garmin!"
I selected the "Fuel" option and started directing myself towards a stations. 15 minutes later I reached my "destination" in the middle of farmland with a few houses nearby. I tried again for several miles...and became even more lost in fields. Craving civilization, I rerouted back towards "home". Becoming very very nervous with the now precarious position of my fuel needle, I turned off at the first sign of a city, now rather unaware of where I might be and dreading the idea of becoming stranded on the highway. Not finding a gas station, I pulled into a Festival parking lot. In times like this, I turn to comfort. Grocery stores tend make me feel comfortable. I also defaulted to my two sure fire fixes. I reached into the back seat to start devouring the brownies I made with Nikki (they were meant for school...but this seemed more important) and messaged my friend Andy (Back story: Andy has also saved me from tornadoes at a DCI competition, being lost before my second day of student teaching, and various other minor remote disasters. He's kind of my fairy godfather of phone support). He informed me that I was near Altoona (according to the internet) and that I should inquire inside (which was the plan). I was just entering Festival, when I noticed my hands were covered in chocolate smears. Feeling sheepish, I further committed to some serious cardio upon my safe return.
Following the directions of the gentleman who pretended not to notice or judge me for being chocolaty and lost, I found my way towards a Kwiktrip and noticed a Red Robin signalling that I was in Eau Claire. I only know how to get to one place from that Red Robin, but was comforted by the fact that at least I could migrate to Nikki's parents abode if I was in need of further comfort (or call the friend I'd been potentially planning on meeting in Eau Claire on the way home). I was way off course, but could recognize my surroundings.
It took me an hour longer than expected to get home, and feeling betrayed by the distraction, I put away the autobiography in favor of the radio. Reflecting on my misfortune, I vowed to take the time to plan a trip home EVEN if I'm reacting to poultry at the time or fleeing an impressive neighbor of a friend.
