Oklahoma Shortcut

I had a short fall break in October.  In the midst of planning a wedding, Johnie and I didn't have a lot of spare cash on hand.  That didn't make us want to see each other any less.  While the cost of a plane ticket was out of our budget, the cost of a road trip was doable. 

We planned a trip in October in which I would drive to Kansas on Friday, and Johnie would drive me back on Sunday.  His schedule then gave him Mondays off, so he would have all day that day to make it back to Kansas.  Johnie was much less willing to drive the miles between Kansas and Kentucky than I was, but he couldn't argue much since I would be making the trip by myself on Friday. 

Being a chronic planner, I poured over maps and websites.  I considered several different routes and options before finally planning which roads we would take on our trip.  Unlike Johnie, I loved road trips.  I was excited about the whole thing. 

I was pumped to be traveling to Kansas through a couple states I had never visited before.  I was hopeful I would get to see the Saint Louis Arch on my journey.  I had a good car that was still under warranty.  I knew this would be a great memory that we would cherish forever: our first road trip together.  I reasoned that while Johnie may not like road trips very much, he had never been on one with me, and we would have a good time.

Friday morning came and I nervously set out.  I was a little unsure of how the day would unfold, but by mid-morning I was almost in Illinois and pleasantly surprised with how easy the trip had gone so far. 

It didn't really hit me the endeavor I was making until I stopped for gas just outside Saint Louis.  I stood outside my car waiting for my tank to fill and looked around at completely new and unfamiliar surroundings.  Everyone around me were total strangers.  It hit me that I was all alone hundreds of miles from home.  It was an uncomfortable feeling, but seemed to disappear when I was safely back in my car and out on the interstate.

I navigated Saint Louis surprisingly well, and did get to see the arch.  I arrived in Kansas City during rush hour and waited through that traffic, finally arriving in Wichita around 9:30 Friday night. 

Johnie started shaking when he saw me.  Prior to this I found the shaking endearing.  He had to really like me if I made him so nervous.  But now we were engaged and there's something a bit worrisome about making your fiance shake. 

We discussed his uncontrollable shaking.  Part of me worried that this would be my life, that he would shake for several minutes after coming home from work each evening.

I don't remember much about my short stay in Wichita that weekend.  We ordered a pizza Friday night.  I was exhausted.  I did go wedding dress shopping on Saturday out of boredom (Johnie had to work), and ended up buying my dress. 

The most memorable part of the trip came on Sunday, though. 

Having driven the route west, I was even more excited to drive it east.  It hadn't been as difficult as I expected, it was actually quite easy.  Johnie would be with me this time.  I had even reviewed the route again and made a change in Kansas City to make that area even quicker and easier to navigate.  I had scoped out stops along the way, was more confident about gas mileage for my car, and had planned our Sunday trip back down to the very detail of which exits we would stop at along the way. 

While I am normally quite concerned with being very efficient with my time, this trip necessitated it.  We were on a very tight schedule.  We would be getting in around midnight and I had to be at school, with more than 100 essays graded, at 8 am the next morning.  I had even prepared sandwiches for us to eat on the way so we could make it to Kentucky even faster.

Sunday morning we had breakfast with Johnie's grandparents before church.  Johnie's grandfather asked us about our route.  We told him, but he said that we had not chosen the quickest route.  He began to tell us another way to go that would be much faster. 

I am not good at taking verbal directions, and Johnie's grandfather's route involved going through Oklahoma, a state in which I had never been, and taking roads I had never heard of.  Even though I was very concerned for time, this new route didn't appeal to me due to it's lack of detailed turn by turn directions I had acquired from online maps for the route we planned to take.  I didn't give the other route much thought.

However, back in our car, Johnie mentioned something about the Oklahoma route.  He was the one driving today, so I asked him if he planned to use it.  He said that his grandfather had driven a truck in years past, and so would know the best routes to take and thought this one was worth a shot. 

I asked him if he knew the roads his grandfather was talking about, if he was confident he could get us back to Kentucky without getting lost.  He said he was.  I trusted Johnie, but I felt I needed to be very clear with him about how big of a deal time and efficiency were to me.  I wasn't sure he understood that I wasn't very easy going about these matters. 

Faced with which route to take, I said, "I'm okay if you take this other way, but I need you to know that if we get lost even once, or if this takes us even five minutes longer than the other way, I will be very, very upset." 

"Okay," he replied. 

I still wasn't sure he quite understood, "I mean, really upset.  Like, it will be bad.  I will be extremely upset with you.  Are you sure you don't even want to look at a map before deciding?" 

He reassured me that everything would be okay on this other route.  I reasoned that he was the one driving, he was more familiar with the area than me anyway, and this new route would take me through another new state.  I tossed my directions in the back of the car, settled in for the trip before us and resumed grading essays.

The trip began amazingly well.  The weather was absolutely perfect that day.  It seemed like we were in Oklahoma in mere minutes and into Missouri in about the same time as if we had gone through Kansas City.  Johnie had kept his word about knowing the roads, and with the faster speed limit, my optimism rose that we had discovered a super secret shortcut between Kansas and Kentucky. 

I was nearly finished with my papers when our trip neared the six hour mark.  Things were still going quite smoothly.  I asked Johnie if he knew how far we were from Saint Louis.  He said he didn't.  I began watching for signs that would tell us how far we were from the city. 

Past Saint Louis, this route was the same as the other one, and the other one would have put us in Saint Louis in seven hours.  We passed a couple signs listing cities and the distance we were from them, but none of them listed Saint Louis.  After a short conversation about how strange it was that Missouri didn't list one of their biggest cities on their distance signs, I decided to retrieve my atlas from the back seat to see just how far away we were.

I flipped the atlas to Missouri, located Interstate 44, and watched the road to see the upcoming mile marker.  I matched the mile marker we had just passed with the mile marker listing on the atlas. 

Apparently I had made a mistake in my calculations.  I kept my finger at it's spot on the map and watched the road again.  We passed an exit.  I found the exit on the map, but it still wasn't right. 

I held the map close to my face to make sure my eyes weren't blurring or transposing numbers. 

Unfortunately, there was nothing wrong with my eyes, nor my map reading ability.  We were more than 200 miles from Saint Louis.  (While I didn't do the math then, I have done it since, and the shortcut added more than 150 miles to our already 800 mile trip.)

True to my word, I became very, very upset. 

I can't think of a better way to describe it than that I wilted.  I had never imagined that this shortcut would add several hours to our trip, I had been concerned with it possibly adding several minutes to our trip.  Even though we both knew exactly where we were, and how to get where we were going, and even though we were traveling down the interstate at more than 70 miles per hour, I felt stuck, stranded. 

I felt like a helpless victim headed for dismay with no way to stop it.  I began doing mental calculations about the number of hours this added to our trip, the number of hours it subtracted from our sleep that night.  I began to worry about getting through my hectic week at school and work, and Johnie driving back to Kansas the following day on very little sleep. 

I worried he would fall asleep or have a seizure (Johnie has epilepsy) behind the wheel on his way home triggered by his short-cut induced insomnia. 

While not quite over my total disappointment and dread for what lay before us, anger also welled up inside me.  It came out, too. 

It wasn't hard to see that Johnie was sorry for his mistake.  His shoulders slumped in the driver's seat.  He quietly said "I'm sorry" over and over again while, through heaving sobs, I recited a monologue of incomprehensible words about all the work I put into making this trip the best it possibly could be, how he should've looked at a map, how I had warned him that I would have a reaction like this, and how the consequences of this shortcut could affect us throughout the evening, the following day and week, and possibly even longer. 

I'll never forget at one point, while I was catching my breath, he even asked if it would make me feel better if I just slapped him. 

I didn't say anything.  I didn't slap him, but I did look at his face and consider it.  I thought it might make me feel better, but then, forever, I would have slapped him which couldn't be good for our relationship.  It might cause him to wreck, or it might even leave a mark. 

I was upset, but it would have been embarrassing for both of us for him to have to say "my fiance slapped me" when someone asked him what was wrong with his face.

I had quieted by the time we made it into Saint Louis, although my tears had not yet completely dried up.  Johnie was unsure how to get to Interstate 64 to take us into Kentucky.  It wasn't hard for us to figure out, but I did give him grief about it. 

It was while we were making these interchanges in Saint Louis that my sweet mother called.  I didn't want to answer the phone until we were safely on I-64 and ignored the call.  Just inside Illinois, I willed composure before dialing my mom back. 

I explained to Johnie I didn't want to lose it when I talked to her.  It surely wouldn't score him any future son-in-law bonus points.  I practiced what I would say and how I would say it. 

Had we taken my route, we would have been pretty close to the Kentucky state line at this point.  I knew my mom was calling to ask where we were.  I could say Illinois, which was close to Indiana, which was where we should have been. 

If she inquired further, I could say that we had taken a different route and were a little behind schedule. 

When I heard my mother's cheery voice on the other end, she didn't ask, "where are you?"  She asked, "well, are you in Kentucky yet?" 

"No," I replied.  I fought the flood for a couple seconds, but then succumbed.  I lost it.  I began the incomprehensible monologue once more. 

Laughably now, my mom interrupted me after a minute, "are you driving?" 

"No," I said, "Johnie is.  How do you think I got in this mess?  If I were driving we'd almost be home!"  I had forgotten about good son-in-law points.  And while I didn't really intend to throw my future husband under the bus, I still smile at the vindication my grandfather gave me that night by saying, "well, he'll learn to listen to my baby from now on."

We survived that trip, the lack of sleep that night, and our lives the following day.  And, as is often the case with him (and with me), Johnie learned a valuable lesson the hard way. 

Johnie and I have traveled many miles together in our short marriage, and gone on many road trips since that one.  Never again has he questioned my navigation and planning.