Another week, another wedding

How about three people crammed in the backseat of my car, my 87-yo mother in the front seat with her infected foot elevated on a pillow, and Scott bravely navigating roads we'd never traveled on before. How we got there was a miracle....and on time.

We left at 7:30 a.m. w/printed directions from Google maps. I printed out 3 sets for 3 'backseat drivers.' Wedding location was the furthest point on Long Island, New York. I was the first driver. "Tell me where to go," was the operative word.

From the PA Turnpike to the Jersey Tpke I was directed to the Lincoln Tunnel.

"You've gotta be kidding," I said. "It'll take forever to get thru Manhattan. You have to spiral downward into the tunnel. It could take 45 minutes. I'm pulling over and calling my sister Donna."

I pulled over to the side of the road & called Donna on my cell. She ordered me to call Herman, the father of the bride. Herman said to go thru the Tunnel and then to take another tunnel - the Mid-Town Tunnel onto some expressway.

"Scott," I said, "it's your turn to drive."

You see, I won't drive thru tunnels. I am not claustrophobic but another mental incapacity takes over which makes tunnel driving very difficult.... the monotony, the sameness, the lack of variation is intolerable to me. If I drive thru a tunnel, I put my hand on my brow to cut off my top vision and look only at the monotony of the road in front.

Scott did a superb job following directions and we got to the wedding on time.

I'd announced many times during the ride, Let's just get there on time, we can get lost on our way home.

That we did.

We got directions from Sylvia and Frank, a married couple who sat at our wedding table. I double-checked the directions w/the owners of the restaurant where the wedding was held.

Off we went. This time we'd be smart. We'd take the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge so we wouldn't have to drive thru Manhattan. Built in 1964, the bridge was the longest suspension bridge in the world at that time, connecting Staten Island to Brooklyn. We kept our eyes open for Exit 14 off the main highway.

Our five-passenger car never saw an Exit 14. I didn't tell anyone but I was stressed to the max. Here are the forces I was battling inside:

- fear of being lost 3 hours from home
- fear of being lost in the darkness - it was now twilight
- fear of my mother's infected foot causing her an escalation of pain
- fear of inconveniencing Scott on his weekend of rest

Because Scott is a man, he refused time and again to pull over to ask directions. Finally, he pulled into a gas station. We were now directly across the street from the Belmont Race Track. The gas station was mobbed. We gassed up, then pulled over and asked someone for directions.

Literally 6 people crowded around us telling us where to go. All had deep NY accents. It was touching how everyone wanted to help us. Scott was wearing his pin-stripe navy pants and a red tie, I had a black n white dotted sleeveless pantsuit that showed my curves & my fabulous black orthotic shoes that showed my unpainted toenails.

We wrote down every word the young man said and then headed out.

The Verrazano Bridge was another 45 minutes away. We finally saw it off in the distance, sparkling with lights like the North Star. Sigh of relief. We twisted and turned with the road until we got there, then crossed on the wide top deck, forsaking the bottom deck. The bridge itself was spectacularly b'ful.

It cost $11 to cross.

Sylvia and Frank had routed us thru a number of small highways, zigging and zagging. Listen, I said, let's just take the Jersey and the PA Turnpike. I think we can figure it out ourselves. My mom had some memories of driving to New York on those routes. It was neat hearing her say things like, "My husband and I used to visit Uncle Louie this way" - or "once, Daddy and I got off at Jersey City just for the fun of it."

We left the wedding at 5 pm and were home by 9:15. I reckoned that our meanderings had cost us 45 minutes to an hour, not bad.

Scott and I were asleep by 10 pm. The next day I was in recovery from the long drive having slept 10 hours and then napping liberally thruout the day.