Sometimes when I'm driving, I'll visualize myself losing control of the car and smashing into a guard rail, or running over a curb and plunging into a holding pond. I'm not sure what triggers this latent paranoia, but after spending the last few days with my parents, I'm pretty sure I know where it came from.
It was getting late last night, and my parents and I were babysitting my nephews and neice so my sisters could go out and have fun for once in their lives.
My parents communicate primarily in sighs. Dozing on the couch between them, I wondered whether they have developed a kind of Morse code during their 40+ years of marriage that only they can interpret. Were they talking about me?
After ten minutes of sighs, coughs, and throat clearings, I heard my dad say "maybe you should ride home with Evan to make sure he doesn't fall asleep at the wheel." Now, just so you don't think I'm a narcoleptic in denial, during my cross country trek this summer, a friend and I took turns driving from Macon Missouri to West Palm Beach. We drove a 24 foot box truck for 25 hours straight. I drank two 16 oz red bulls in a row at 5 in the morning to fend off fatigue. I'm not recommending this to anyone, but driving the 0.75 miles to my house at midnight is a walk in that park after that trip.
Last year when I made the mistake of telling my mom I was going skydiving, she said "if God had wanted us to fly, he would have made us angels." When I told her I was statistically 40 times more likely to die in a car accident on the way there, she offered me $100 not to go.
I remember when I was 15 or 16, I came home from a party. My mom was sleeping in her recliner, her friends at Fox News singing her a lullaby. She has an interesting wardrobe. At night, she wore an African robe and matching headdress to mask her curlers. She lunged at the door when I opened it. It was terrifying, like being bum-rushed by Nelson Mandela. I screamed as she slammed the door on my shoulder that it was just me, Evan, her son. She returned to her La-Z-Boy, sat down, deployed the footrest and said "I thought you were a robber."
I can only imagine a world where all of the things my parents are nervous about come true. There would be an Amber Alert every three minutes. People wouldn't leave their houses without assault rifles, and would drive cars only when they wanted to attempt suicide.
I'm still relatively certain my car won't inadvertently go sailing off the PGA bridge any time soon, but after spending the last week with my folks, I'm starting to really wonder.
HAHAHAHAHHHAHAHA I remember her attacking you! that was awesome.
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