how to be a brat

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Road Trip Up South


We all turned our heads toward the brilliant white color coming from the left side of the packed-to-the-brim ‘7 minivan. Boyne Highlands, MI, home to some of the most breathtaking views (and the fastest chairlift) in the Midwest. What a great place! The fresh, distinct smell of the cold, dry air drifting through the car reaching each and every one of our noses.


“Ahhh . . . ,” I let out a long sigh of relief trying to forget one of the longest and most complicated car rides I’ve ever experienced in my life.


To tell you the truth, when I got in that car with my two closest friends, Erik and Rachel, I was ecstatic. I was so lucky to be able to be going on a road trip, even better - we were going skiing! My friend Erik’s parents have a place on the slopes. Now, I’m lucky to be standing here with my hair still intact.


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“Okay so we just take North and then exit at the Boyne Highlands exit and follow that until we hit the Jefferson Blvd. . . . ” I was the designated navigator of the trip. “Wait a second! Are we on South?” I thought I had things somewhat under control, after all, how hard is it to get from Ann Arbor to Boyne? Let’s see . . . a little tougher than I thought.


“That would be correct.” Erik is taking control of the driving for the first part of the trip, we figured we could switch along the five-hour journey. He seems quite upbeat at the moment. However, we can only imagine how he will be acting once his shift is over. “But I’m guessing from your tone of voice that for some reason we are not supposed to be here. Are we?”


“We are supposed to be going up North, but we are on South. Do you see a problem here? Because I certainly do!”


One entire hour driving in the wrong direction, you would think someone would notice. Negative, we make a 180° turn. A couple of quick hours pass listening to music and such, bringing us back past good old Ann Arbor and on our way, in the right direction this time. We unanimously decide its time for a food break to feed our growling stomachs.


Rachel, on her health food kick (one kick I’m not too fond of), somehow persuades us to drive the extra couple of miles off the exit to eat at the “Veggie Bar” where her Aunt Julie swears her life on their veggie burgers. I guess it wasn’t that bad of an idea, but none of us were too excited after our stomachs were full and we discovered that the keys were still in the car. The locked car. The locked car that also had the cell phone in it.


“You what?” I asked just to make sure I was hearing this right.


“I locked the keys in the car! They are lying right there on the seat. I can see them from here.” I can tell Erik feels stupider every time he repeats the story and points at the lonely set of keys abandoned on the cold leather seat.


“Well, I guess we are just going to have to go back inside and use their phone. I don’t know who we can call, but we CAN get out of this somehow.” Rachel seems like the only one who can look positively on this whole event--mabey it was the veggie burger.


We get inside and find out that along with the whole ‘organic’ theme, the “Veggie Bar” doesn’t own a phone.


“How can they not have a phone? Everyone has phones!” Erik is the most frustrated of the four of us.


“Not the Veggie Bar!” Rachel replied almost laughing. I think both of us would have liked to slap her.


“We are ALL walking back down the road to find a gas station or something. We can’t just stay here and waste time.” I don’t offer this as a suggestion.


Two miles on foot is much longer than I thought, especially when you are traveling with a person with a sprained ankle. Rachel easily managed to fall on the slick, icy road in her tall shoes that I told her to take off. She sprained it worse than we thought possible and it was swelling quickly.


Once the Mobil Station came into sight, we were overjoyed! We hitched a ride from the technician back to the restaurant and he quickly rescued the keys for us.


I guess it turned out all right, we were only behind schedule about three hours. Not including the time it took us to return to the rest stop where I left my purse.


“There is important stuff in this purse!”, I cried, out of breath from running to retrieve my purse, as I held it close to me pretending to hug it.


Erik blurted out, “Yeah! And there’s also important stuff in Boyne! Like the hotel room and the slopes! That is, if we ever get there!”


We finally arrived at Boyne incident free from that point on. It was a good trip but rather aggravating. Now for the trip back . . .





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