Thursday, January 03, 2008
Boxing Day - Miracles In Action (updated with photos)!
It’s been a long time since I’ve unshuttered the Chucklehut for a bit of an airing-out. Now I get to return to those musty odors and mysterious wadded bits of fabric under the coffeetable that mutely accuse me me, “where in Jesus’ gravyboat have you been? this place has gone to hell without you!” Oh, and I missed you too, you delightful dustbunnies of declamation. (damn, he STILL GOTS IT!) So let’s get caught up, or cot up for those of you still sleeping off the cocktails that I did not imbibe this new year’s....
I - and my family - took a nice road trip up to outer Seattle ("the city that never completely dries out") to see some inlaws for the xmassing. The drive up was quiet - low clouds and scattered showers kept the view to a minimum; we barely even saw Shasta from I-5. We overnighted in Springfield (town motto: “Not *That* Springfield"), then woke up gently and powered on out to the split-level paradise we’d be calling home for a week. Last year our hosts - Tara, Phil, and li’l Nate - spent our xmas visit curled up with brutal stomach cramps, except for those special moments when they were rushing to the nearest basin for some dryheaves. What joyful memories. How was this year going to eclipse those experiences?
It wasn’t easy, but a winning strategy was developed: Get a disaster going, and then make it as low-impact as it can possibly be. Misery, filled with and surrounded by thick layers of “hell it ain’t so bad innit”. This is an easy plan to make, but damn near impossible to carry off without overreaching. We managed, though. Let’s walk through the timeline:
Twas the day after xmas, and all through the house, we were getting a little tinsel-dizzy and candy-cane crazy. We’d been sucking up high-cal food and hi-klass drinqs from morn till noon, then taking a bit of a nap, and then gluttony again from about 2:30 till the night overtook us. It was time for some fresh air and what Western Washington State calls “sunshine,” which in this case was “weather that’s not actively precipitating on us”. So we piled into cars and hauled ass and sled out to Hyak Snow-Park up in the Snoqualmie Pass (home of the
qualmest snow in the county). Whereat: we sledded, we played,
we frolicked, and
generally had a good old time of things. By 4 in the afternoon we were sore from laughing, just a little chilly, and
red-cheeked fore and aft. It was time to pack it in and drive down the hill to our suburban crib.
That’s when Tara closed the trunk of the car. With the keys still inside it. The trunk automatically locked and all of a sudden our snow-park frolic had become THE STUFF OF DISASTER. Keys locked in car! Night falling! Temps dropping! Toddlers getting cranky! This is where we start to see personalities crumble and strong men melting like puddles of soiled fender-slush on the chains-installation section of the shoulder of I-90. Guarded glances were exchanged among all adults, and then we settled down to enjoying the least disastrous chrismannakuah disaster in history.
How so? Let’s look at it this way: Chanukah was 8 nights long, and xmas was 12. That gives us a goal of 20 miracles to redeem this event in dual cosmographies. And we did it, people! We got all our miracles!
Count ‘em out with me, people! Testify!
1: With one breath, Tara told us she’d locked out her keys. With the next, Phil handed us steaming-hot mugs of cocoa, just brewed for us on a backpacker’s stove. Miracles, 1-zip.
2: Though their modern, powerful cell phones were - natch - locked in their car, I had my old vacuum-tube hand-crank version on me and - incredibly - it had excellent reception, even though we were 5 clicks east of central wilderness. It was, indeed, a miracle.
3. My cellphone has old, weak batteries, to go with the rest of its old, weak self. I got to the mountains with two battery bands out of four. By the time Phil was done
calling for roadside assistance (where he’d been kept on hold a long time), we were down to no bars, a flashing outline, and a “low battery” chirp. However, we never lost power, dammit. WE NEVER LOST POWER. Miraculous.
4. We all ultimately decided to go somewhere we could warm up and wait for a locksmith in comfort. And even though it had been tight with just the three of us in the car, all six of us were able to fit reasonably humanely in our little Forester, with allowance for a few bent rules of road safety and common sense. It is to be a miracle.
5. We were able to get, very quickly, to a ski lodge - the only one for many many miles around - that happened to be entertaining night skiiers, and was therefore conveniently accomodating to our needs. Mir-freaking-aculous.
6. At the ski lodge, we were able to procure a decent cheesesteak. This is more miraculous than you might think; I’ve got a pretty high cheesesteak bar. Plus, damn dude, we are stranded in Snoqualmie pass - eating cheesesteaks? Miraculoso!
At this point we got the “bad karma revival” call - on the cellphone that had MIRACULOUSLY regained three full bars of battery power: Roadside service will not be responding.
No one is available to save our frozen asses. We should shelter in place, forage for pine nurts, and watch out for rutting elk. Or call the state cops, or something. Anyway, roadside assistance was gonna be a no-sho. SO:
7. We choose to
leave the disabled vehicle in its glacial bed and drive home for more than an hour on busy snowy storm-thrashed roads, four adults and two toddlers with one child seat and not much room in the back beyond that - AND WE MADE IT. We got all the way home with minimal toddler freakout and minimal stress-positioning discomfort (sorry Phil, we shoulda made Tara sit back there). Quelle mirable septieme!
8. Of course, once we got past the pass the snow began to diminish and soon we needed to take off our chains - which I’d only learned to put on that morning, for god’s sake. Luckily, we were on a busy slushy roadside at night without streetlights, illuminated only by the careening glare of fast-passing semis and personal motorcoaches, And wouldn’t you know it? Those chains came off pretty damn easy. Hell, I could almost say it was fun to hop out and pull them off but that would be over the top. Miracle-wise, however, it totally ranks.
9. Except, of course, that it was pitch black out there, remember? So how did we deal with that? Turns out that we’d happened to give Z a little toy headlamp for xmas the day before, and for some reason we’d thought it might be handy if it came with us to the snow, so there it was in the car with us and not only had we brought it but WE FOUND IT in the overpacked vehicle, and verily it provided us with plentiful robust light, for as it is said, a miracle was done that night.
10. Then we had the rest of the drive home. That could have gone badly, if we’d been pulled over. Child seats, passenger in the trunk… I couldn’t count on a Washington State Trooper being sympathetic to someone with California plates and two two-year-olds sharing a single restraining device. As matters developed, we actually did get pulled over and issued a ticket - during our drive back, IN SONOMA COUNTY CALIFORNIA. However, we drove home in the clown-Forester that night with no negative consequences, and an iPod to play a nice relaxing soundtrack for the ride. Mira kill!
11. Once we got to the house, of course, we had to get in. And the housekeys were locked in the trunk, with everything else. So, which window did we have to throw a brick through to get inside? None of them, because Tara’s old friend Jen had a spare! But that’s not really miraculous, you snorfle into your dustruffles. Well maybe not - until you remember that Jen usually didn’t have any way to get the key to us, but as it so happened, that night she was housesitting and consequently had access to a car that allowed her to get the key to us before we arrived at the door. Presto-Miraculo!
12. The next morning Phil and I had to haul ass back up the mountain with a spare key. The previous day we’d struggled through miserable traffic for 90 minutes to get to Hyak, and it had snowed a bunch since then. We got up early to face the drive, and whaddaya know, there was no traffic at all. We hit the crest of the pass with a noticeable accumulation of snow on the highway, and we were still cruising at highway speeds. And lo there was no traffic to impede them in their way - and miraclemaking was done did.
13. Once we got to the car we didn’t know what we’d find. It was full of fun electronics like cameras and music players and as far as we knew it had probably been discovered by meth heads during the night who’d stripped it clean for meth money. However, when we arrived where we’d left the car, we discovered it to be unscathed. No busted windows or stolen contents. Welcome to Miracle Town - population:
this.
14. The car we’d left behind had sat in a mountain pass, exposed but for some sleds propped against the windshield to ward off excessive icing, during a long snowy night. The next morning could have dawned on it frozen in its parking lot, batteries drained and tires iced into place. Instead, it just revved right up once we got it open and pulled smartly out of the space. It wasn’t stuck. Miracles do happen. This was proof.
15. Even the flimsy plastic sleds he’d propped in place the night before to ward off excessive icing were still there! Nothing had blown away. I smell miracle!
16. On our way back from picking up the car we were able to stop at a local
flapjackerry to sample local flapjacks bacon waffles with a side of four large biscuits drowning in gravy. Damn I love a mountain breakfast. Miracle up!
17. Upon returning to our table after I’d eaten breakfast, our Rubenesque server goggled at my empty plate. “I can’t believe you ate it all!” was all she was able to stammer in her awe and amazement at my masculinity and prowess. Yes, Rozelle, I ate it all, and I loved every bite. Where did I put it? Ah, that would be like explaining a perfect, beautiful miracle.
18. On the way back Phil got tired of all the highway action and we took a side trip to Snoqualmie Falls, just to check’em out.
They’re pretty damn miraculous, buddy. I’m just saying. And I wouldn’t have seen them if Tara hadn’t locked the keys in the trunk the day before - toss that on the miracle pile too while you’re at it.
19. And once we got home I had a lovely nap. Hell yeah that’s a miracle, when there’s two two-year-olds demanding more Thomas toys every goddamn second.
So there you have it, the twenty miracular boxing day bail-out. It was as good as it could possibly have been. Okay damnit I only have 19 miracles, but Zach took
this awesome photos of xmas lights to round things out. For a kid 30 months old, I must say I am impressed! And that, my friends, should be enough for the likes of you!