For a 24-hour period I was the responsible party. This doesn’t happen very often or for very long and it isn’t typically an assignment, it just happens.
While eclipsing, Calling The Dog and Rebel Dancer quite enjoyed their wine while I, merely because I was quite parched, was enjoying water. As a result, I became the designated driver and chaperone – positions I assumed for the duration of the trip.
After safely returning them to the hotel, they decided they needed to smoke. “This is why she is my compadre,” Calling The Dog told me, referring to Rebel Dancer. “It’s true. We smoke when we smoke. I mean drink,” Rebel Dancer replied. “I’m sure we can just buy two cigarettes. I don’t want to buy a whole pack,” Calling The Dog told Rebel Dancer as they prepared to venture out on the sleepy town for cigarettes. “Unless you are buying from someone on the street, which I doubt you will find, you’re going to have to buy a whole pack. No stores sell one or two cigarettes,” I advised while grabbing my jacket – it was clear they would be needing a chaperone. “Damn,” Calling The Dog replied.
We somehow managed to safely cross the street, without using a crosswalk, and the first thing we saw on the side of the road was a wooden cutout of an Indian who was pointing South – not sure why. Calling The Dog and I posed for a picture and, after Rebel Dancer took it, she asked (referring to the wooden cutout), “Is that an ice cream sandwich?” I was really started to wonder what was in that wine.
They purchased their full pack of cigarettes and within an hour, only after taking advantage of the hotel pool/hot tub, they were in bed and sound asleep. As I tossed and turned, they snored. At some point, in the middle of the night, Rebel Dancer got up to use the toilet and, on her way back to her bed, got disoriented and almost got in bed with Calling The Dog and I. “Oh my, I am so sorry,” she told me. “It’s OK. Do you want to turn a light on so you can see where you’re going?” I asked. “No, no, I’ll figure it out.” “Close encounters of the weird kind,” Calling The Dog sleep quipped – she has no recollection of this classic comment.
As I drove us home, Rebel Dancer shared a freeway story with us. “Did I ever tell you about the time I saw an ostrich right here on the side of the road?” This was my first road trip with her, so I had never heard the story. Calling The Dog, however, had traveled with her several times and it was the first time for her to hear it. “No. An ostrich? Really? Strange. Was it hit?” Calling The Dog asked. “No, it didn’t appear to be hit. It was just there with it’s head like this,” Rebel Dancer said while elongating her neck, sticking her head forward and making a wide-eyed, stiff lipped expression. “Maybe there is an ostrich farm around here,” Calling The Dog told her. “Maybe. All I know is I memorized the mile markers and then called 9-1-1 to report it,” Rebel Dancer advised us. “Did you get pulled over a few minutes later for a sobriety test?” I asked. “What? No,” Rebel Dancer answered and continued, “I just kept asking myself, ‘Did I really just see that? Did I really just see an ostrich?'”
And with that comment, my designated driver and chaperone duties continued until Calling The Dog and Rebel Dancer were both safely home.