A couple of weeks ago I did something that is completely uncharacteristic of me. It was the weekend before Presidents' Day, and I was sitting in the family room watching television when out of my mouth came the words, "Hey, why don't we go to the Auto Show on Monday?" I don't know what got into me, but the craziest part was that it wasn't a slip of the tongue, or even a quick brain-fart. I actually meant the words. And, here's the part that makes it COMPLETELY uncharacteristic of me...I didn't change my mind two minutes later and try to take back my idea. I thought Josh was going to cry. Because the man knows me too well, he very quickly replied, "Yes! Great! Sounds good! Wait, are you serious?" At that moment I felt that I had done my wifely duty for the rest of the year.
So on Monday morning Josh, Molly, and I took off for Chitown. Because I was in an overly generous mood I agreed to take the train into the city. Josh loves taking the train. I'm not sure why, but he almost gets giddy about it. It's not so much that I don't like riding the train, because I do. It's just that I don't like running FOR the train when you are late. But again, I was being generous. So we got on the early train, had a nice ride in, and then were dropped off at McCormick Place. It was easy. TOO easy.
I suppose I should mention that before we took off for our day I had suggested that we buy our tickets online. "Lines may be long," I suggested. "No, they won't be that bad," said Josh. Now, I'm not sure that I actually said this or just thought it, but in any case my mind begged, "This is the CHICAGO Auto Show, not the CENTERVILLE Auto Show!" But, whatever. I'm really trying to be less "naggy" when it comes to things like this. Call it an early Lenten promise. So, as we walk into McCormick Place, and file up the stairs like cattle, I see something that HAS to be an optical illusion. My eyes HAD to be playing tricks on me because the line that was formed in front of me reached all the way to Gurnee, I swear. It actually may have been part of the line for Superman the Ride, that's how long this line was. You can just imagine the sweet look on my face. It was at that point that Molly gave a little laugh, and I said, "I'm going to the bathroom." (Did I mention that I had finished off a Large coffee from Dunkin' Donuts on the ride in? Anyone who knows me well knows that that was my beverage intake for the entire week!) I left Josh and Molly to fend for themselves, because if I had to stand in that line, there was a very good chance that there would have been a major accident, and not the automobile kind.
Do you ever have conversations with yourself? Well, at that point I was having an argument with the me of yesterday who wanted to buy the tickets online, and the me of today, who was doing the "potty dance" in line at the restrooms. I was mentally trying to figure out what time we'd actually get IN to the show...Maybe 12:00? 2 hours in line sounded about right. That gave us a few hours before we'd have to be back on the train...we'd have to forgo lunch, but maybe we could buy a pretzel at one of the vendors? Maybe they have nachos? Yummmm...... So after my visit to the little girls' room, I felt better and realized that this day was not about me, so I should just let it go. I walked back upstairs and couldn't find Molly or Josh. Uh-oh. Luckily for me I had my cell phone (and it was on) and Molly called to tell me that the line had opened up and they were moving. There was no way I could get into the line, so I should just wait for them. Sidenote: What did we do before cell phones???
I must say, I was shocked at how fast that line moved. I don't think it ever stopped. 20 minutes. That's how long it took. And you know what, it was well-worth it. I'm pretty sure that the Auto Show was like Josh's heaven on earth. He grabbed pamphlets, sat in cars, took pictures, smiled, etc., etc., etc. He told me about his first car, and then told me about his next car. I realized that day that for him, automobiles are much more than just pieces of painted steel. They are a piece of his childhood, a bond he shares with his dad. I made a quiet vow that day to not complain every time he wants to show me a car on the internet. I won't hem and haw every time he goes to Borders to buy a new Corvette book. I won't even try to recycle his old Road & Track magazines without him knowing about it. I'm not going to stand in the way of this little piece of his childhood heaven.
And I know that he would do the same for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment