That sounds a little harsh. Let me explain.
My brother Brian came up from Maryland on Thursday night. My brother's nickname is "Brain".
That sounds a little harsh. Let me explain.
When he was little, in 1st or 2nd grade I think, I saw one of his papers from school. In the upper right-hand corner of it, he had written his name, "Brain". When I saw it I thought, "BRAIN?" and yelled out to him, "Hey, 'Braaaain", c'mere a sec....what are ya, Inspector Gadget's dog?"as I shoved the paper at him. We cracked up and the birth of his nickname had arrived. This is now how he signs off is his correspondence to the family.
So Brain...arrived at Logan Thursday night. We had "clearly planned" that I would pick him up on the lower level through baggage claim, and requested that when he went out the doors, to go all the way right as that was the easier place to pick up.
Through baggage claim, out the doors, right.
I called him, told him I was at the airport - and I was making my way around the corner to the American Airlines station in the terminal. I AGAIN confirmed with him, "You went all the way RIGHT out the doors...correct?"
He went left. By the limos. You see, he thought it would be easier.
Since I had yet to make my way around the corner, I couldn't see the limos. I muttered something about "following directions" and told him that if I didn't think it would be doable(the Fuzz and airport personnel tend to be hard-asses) that I would honk twice signaling for him to get his keister all the way RIGHT.
I got around the corner and I didn't see anybody all the way left. I didn't see these "limos" of which he spoke.
Deep, deep down, I knew what he did done. But I was going to try and give him the bene of the doubt.
"Bri, are you in FRONT of the Peter Pan bus??" thinking maybe he hadn't gone ALL the way left but had gone left out the doors but my ability to spot him was being obstructed by Peter Pan. He seemed confused at my mentioning the bus. Why I let it go, I have no idea. I passed the bus and parked at the very end of Terminal B. Clearly, no Brain. Called him again. "B, I am all the way a the end of the terminal. Where the hell are ya? Can you see the Peter Pan bus?"
He mentioned something about limos. Flag is offically thrown on the play. He is at the top level, not by baggage claim, but where the DEPARTURES go to be dropped off.
To recap, he went UP and LEFT when I had asked him to go DOWN and RIGHT.
When we finally connected (after Mr. Nice Police Officer told me to take a lap, because they won't let you idle even if your legit excuse that your bro is a moe-ron), I cheered, "Great to see ya, B! Hey, by the way, is it Opposite Day in your brain today?"
So, getting back to my original point, I was nervous about lending him my car.
I woke up this morning with "The Curse" and feeling really, really awful. I did not feel like carpooling him to my mom's, a good 45 minutes away, coming back to Boston, and then picking him up again. Hell, I didn't really want to do that even without the awful cramps. So I thought about it. And I thought about it. And to compound the issue, I also wasn't really up for a visit with my mother either. So after much thought and a mini-conference with my sister, Kate,("well, he IS almost 26 year old, and he does drive to work, everyday? right?") I relented.
Though not without many pounds of prevention.
The directions. So unbefuckinglieveably specifc and clear they should be hanging in a museum.
See, not only was I trusting Brain with my car, but I was trusting him to drive in a state he'd never driven in really. In a city that's not exactly known for being a breeze to get around, in or out of, no less. Oh, and in a city that employs the pinnacle of engineering, The Rotary. And he'd have to drive on one these tremendous inventions to get out of town.
I wrote out the directions. I said to him (and wrote) 93 SOUTH! Not. NORTH.
Included in the directions, "No MAINE. No NH, No VT. No CANADA!"
But then again, as I said to him, "though I bet you're the only guy that would head north and STILL find the sign that read, "Welcome to Rhode Island."
As he was walking out the door I asked, "you're a safe driver, right? 60 mph? yes? You know when lanes end and merge?? Don't forget to check your blind spot! Drive safely! Please. I don't know if my insurance premiums are up to date!"
And he was off.
And then nothing.
No calls. Nothing.
After about 40 minutes later, I called him.
"I'm about 5 minutes from Mom's."
Huh. He did it.
"Cool, just checking."
Now it's dark out, starting to snow and he'll be on the road soon to make his return. Great, now all I gotta do is get him back.
I think a different kind of cramps are beginning to attack my stomach.