Patrick and I left Friday morning on our trip north. We got out of the house at around 10 a.m., with me at the wheel. That lasted about 200 miles. We stopped somewhere for lunch at Carl’s Jr. and I guess we should’ve been more aware of how tired we were, because about 20 minutes later, while somewhere on the 5, all my earlier comments about how much I love road trips and how much fun we always have came back to bite me in the ass.
I’m not sure exactly where we were. We hadn’t passed the cows, I can say that much for sure. The road was a four lane highway, and I guess Patrick was getting tired. I was mostly in the left lane, keeping out of the way of the truckers and slowpokes, and, in my opinion, keeping pace with the other cars. A third lane would've made it easier: I didn't want to go as slow as the slow cars, but I wasn't 100% comfortable with the fast cars. Every once in awhile some jerk would show up in my rearview mirror, tailgating, but if I had time to move over out of his way, I would. They would pass, and speed along on their merry way, and everyone was happy. Everyone, that is, except Patrick.
Look, I’m a competent driver. And Patrick is a lovely man. But sometimes his know-it-all Leo nature kicks in: he can’t help it. I’ve been around other Leos, and while they all have varying levels, at some point the things that I love about them (decisiveness, personality, big noses) turn on me. When that happens, a smart person would close their ears and continue to do what they were doing, the way they wanted to do it. If I were a smart person, I would’ve realized that as the driver of the vehicle (my vehicle), I was the one holding all the cards. He was just the peanut gallery, and turning up the music (at the time, we were listening to the Who’s Quadrophenia, which I have been trying to make up my mind about for some time now) would’ve been one of way of ignoring him. Any way of ignoring him was probably better than what I did, which was to get pissed off, which lasted for a split second, and then to get hurt feelings, which last about 73 miles. So instead of continuing to drive, I pulled off, there in nowheresville, turned off the car, got out, and traded places with him.
It all worked out, though, because after awhile, he got too tired to continue to drive, and I took over, changed the Who for Radiohead's "Hail to the Thief," and Patrick fell asleep (note: I can now say, with 100% certainty, that I do not like "Quadrophenia"). When he woke up we were both in better moods, and as we do with all our silly disagreements, were laughing about it later. He apologized, I told him that I hope he realized that most other people would've asked him to shut the fuck up, or invited him to walk to San Jose, and the rest of our ride, and trip, was fine. The funny thing is, I drove most of the way home, and did actually do it the way Patrick was advising me to. So. He may be a bit of a nag, but I'm pretty stubborn, too, about doing things my own way - but in the end, like I said, we can laugh about it. The secret, I think, to our success.
We made it in to San Jose around 4:30, and after checking into the hotel, Patrick took me on a little tour of San Jose. I've been there, but not for many years, and he was just there last year for some computer training. We drove and walked around for awhile, and then went to this restaurant he had visited on his last trip, an Indian restaurant called Mezbaan - and it was exceptional. We had a good time, too, because the restaurant was playing on two big flat screen televisions, old time Indian music videos, which were really entertaining. The restaurant was in this little shopping center across from a pretty condo/town home complex that is adjacent to a beautiful park. We walked around the neighborhood and soaked in the almost-full, gonzaga* moon before going back to our hotel to chill out before the family reunion on Saturday.
It turned out that our hotel, though "only" 40 miles from the party, most of those 40 miles are on the dreaded highway 17. On the way to the party, we stopped at the Starving Musician, a store in Santa Cruz that sells used instruments. We had a little time to kill, and so we looked at everything, and I mean everything.
The reunion itself was a lot of fun, and I'll post some photos later. My cousin Christina, and her husband Michael, have a beautiful home and they are so generous to have hosted us all. It was great to see all my family, and to meet some new people (Michael's father was a very interesting man, and fun to talk to). Most of all it was nice to see my mother with her brothers and sister, and to see her having fun, even though she really hasn't been feeling well lately.
Patrick and I left a little earlier than we planned on, because it got late, dark, and then foggy, and though the party was still going strong, and the outdoor fireplace had just gotten lit, we took off around 9:30. I personally was a little worried about that drive, but Patrick is a pro, and handled it fine.
This morning we slept in, cleaned up, and visited Falafel's Drive In, where we had a lunch consisting of some very fresh and yummy falafel and banana milkshakes, and if I can just put in a good word for this place, I would say, check it out next time you're in San Jose, if not for the falafel, then for the banana milkshakes. Delicious.
The drive home was mostly uneventful: we visited the outlets in Gilroy, where I went to to two stores (Banana Republic, where the service was a bit snotty - these people surely realize that Gilroy is not, say, Beverly Hills, don't they?; and J. Crew, which was better), and Patrick went to one (Sony). After getting back on the road, we hit some really terrible traffic, which set us back about an hour, and we never really figured out what the deal was - it appeared that they had taken two lanes of traffic down to one so that opposing traffic could cross? but at that point we were listening to XTC, and enjoying it, and ourselves, so as usual, despite a rough beginning, Patrick and I managed to have a successful, fun trip. Now that we're home, though, with the kitties and the Olympics on the television... I'm happiest here.
*"Gonzaga" was the name of one of the exits off of one of the freeways we were on during this trip, and I think it's an awesome word. It should be right up there with "gazonga" and "ginormous" and I aim to use it. Look for it here.
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