Long Way Home

This past Saturday I drove home for the day to visit with my brother and parents and also hang out with my Aunts, Uncle, and cousins who came by for supper.  My mom made some delicious baked spaghetti (def one of my favs!) and we all played scrabble and taboo.  I also beat my brother in Wii Resort 3-point shootoff (who says I'm not good at basketball!), and my dad and I showed off some sweet dance moves.

I drove back Saturday night so that I could make it to Sunday school and church on Sunday.  My parents get very nervous about me driving at night, so my mom made me promise to call her as soon as I got back to school.  (It's about 50 minutes from my house to PC.)  As I was pulling out of the driveway, my mom noticed that my front left tire was looking kind of low.  My dad followed me to a gas station right off the interstate in Chapin and filled up my tires with more air.

I actually enjoy driving...believe it or not...as long as the conditions are not excessively stressful.  (Driving in Harbison during Christmas...def not my fav).  My mom called me about an hour after I left the house, nervous because I hadn't called her yet.  Forgetting that my dad had to fill up my tires with air, and that my cell phone has a hole and is connected to my keychain (if you haven't seen my new phone I will show it to you because it is SUPER cool), which was in the ignition because my car key is also on my keychain, my mom called me right about the time I got to Newberry.  I couldn't ignore the ferocious vibration of my phone, so I pulled over at the next exit to call my mom back.  I made it to PC, called my parents, and everything turned out alright...but stopping off the interstate reminded me of one journey I made home last Spring.

It was the second semester of my freshman year at PC.  I decided to go home for the weekend.  I also was in a very adventurous stage of my life (I would describe myself as adventurous in general though some may disagree), and went off of an initial gut instinct to drive to Irmo without taking the interstate.  Naturally, I got directions from Mapquest, packed a totebag for the weekend, and got ready to leave.  I lived across the hall from a very cool, artsy girl named Caroline.  She roomed with my best friend at the time, and I visited her room often.  Caroline loved to drink hot tea.  I aspired to be as cool as Caroline, so I started drinking hot tea too.  Knowing I needed a drink to make it back, I figured what better to take with me than hot tea?  I got a giant thermos, nuked some H2O, and put 2 teabags in the water considering the sizeable amount of tea I was preparing to consume.

The ride home along the backroads of SC proved to be an interesting one.  I passed through downtown Union, noticed a state forest, and got lost only about 2 times.  About the time I crossed the interstate leaving Clinton, I realized I had to use the bathroom...number 1.  I figured I could hold it for an hour until I made it home.  Not recognizing that the drive home down the backroads would take longer than the drive home on the interstate, or that I drank about 30 ounces of hot tea, I later cursed myself for my stupidity!

Somewhere between Pomaria and White Rock (didn't know those existed?  neither did your average South Carolinian...), I had to go so badly that I thought I would explode.  If a hospital was nearby, I would have definitely checked myself in because I had to PEE to the extent that it was a medical issue.  I was in pain.  But smartie pants decided to take the back way and the only possible toilets nearby were inside some country-bumpkin churches or residential homes!  What to do, what to do, not even a gas station in sight!

Finally I saw a sign for a restaurant.  I turned down a little road, drove for about 2 miles, praying that there would be a bathroom I could visit, and pulled into a gravel parking lot of a small local restaurant.  I can't remember the name of the restaurant, but it was built from logs and had a carved sign that stood barely off the edge of the road.  There was only 1 other car in the parking lot.  I left my car, locked my door, and walked (if you want to call it that... really I was hunched over, my knees together, skipping/running) towards the restaurant.  Thankfully, the restaurant was unlocked.

Inside, the lights were dim.  I noticed unfinished floors, big wooden booths, a stage in the corner, a register near the door, unlit neon beer signs, and one lone old man sitting in the first booth, pen in hand, finishing some paperwork.

"Canipleaseuseyourbathroom???" I cried/pleaded?

Not thinking of the safety of the situation, I ran to the back of the room, and powdered my nose so to speak.  Well...I definitely felt A LOT better.  As I exited the bathroom, I explained my situation to the man (I was on my way home from Clinton, decided to take the back roads, had to use the bathroom REALLY badly) and made my merry way back to the car.

It was only about another 15 miles until I made it home, but after I told my mom the story she made me promise never to take that route home again.  Needless to say, there are definitely some memorable journeys back and forth between PC and home.