I don’t quite understand it but the truth is a vacation with my family is never simple. In fact, it is almost without exception, something worth writing about. That is why I had to start a blog. My family is just so darn entertaining. And not always in a good way.
Remember our beach trip? It was so entertaining it had to be written about in…four…parts.
Sigh, I’d be okay with a simple, unentertaining vacation once in a while.
This last weekend we drove up to Wichita Ks to visit my dad and my brother. My Dad usually comes to see us, but I thought we’d mix it up a bit and take the kids to see them this time. That’s what I get for thinking.
The trip up was fine, uneventful even. We made the drive in an easy 6 hours, parked the camper at Cheney State park, and went on into Wichita to meet my Dad and brother for dinner. (I must say here that KS could learn a few things from TX as far as state parks are concerned. Like the whole open container thing, and hey here’s an idea, wear a shirt now and then men! Oh and perhaps we could tone down the partying sometime before the sun comes up. But I digress)
We had a very nice dinner with my dad and brother, we went to look at my brother’s new place, and generally had a nice time. On our way back to our camper (about a 30 min drive) we decided to stop in the little town of Goddard for Mayo and a bottle of wine. Strange combination, I realize, but I forgot the Mayo at home and the dry sandwiches we ate on the way up to KS were not something we wanted to repeat on the way home, thus the stop. The kids were tired so Sir D and I thought we’d grab a nice bottle of wine and sit by the lake and have a little nature date. Nice, right? Sigh. If only…
We found the Foodliner in Goddard and got our Mayo. The nice lady working the one checkout in the Foodliner told us that they don’t sell wine in the grocery store, but there was a place that sells wine just down the way. Well, just down the way was actually the way we were going so we decided to pull in and grab a bottle.
Now I must stop here and explain something. See in my little town, we have beer and wine stores. They are nice little upscale places. They are decidedly NOT liquor stores. This place? Totally a liquor store. Why does the distinction matter? I don’t really know except the idea of sitting in the car with the kids while Sir D hopped into the wine store to grab a nice bottle of Merlot seems much less tawdry than sitting in the car with my kids in a liquor store parking lot waiting for my dear hubby to pop in and buy us some hooch to take out to the lake.
As I am sitting in the car with the kids in the liquor store parking lot at 10 on a Friday night, I begin to rethink the wisdom of this decision. Darn Goddard! Why couldn’t they have sold wine at the grocery like the rest of the free world?
As I ponder this I notice a nice little old lady walk out to her car. She hops in and her equally little old hubby begins to back out. We are the only two cars currently in the parking lot and he still manages to back right into my car…in the liquor store parking lot. Sigh.
Sir D comes out at about this time and sees the little old man amble out of his car and begin yelling. Not because he was angry, but because he obviously had a hearing problem himself. More people start entering the parking lot and now we are making a scene. The little old Man (heretofore known as LOM) pulled out his wallet and told Sir D that he’d just like to take care of this little ol’ dent right now. How about a hundred bucks? Think that’ll fix her?
Here’s the thing. It’s an Excursion. 100 bucks won’t even fill the gas tank. It’s a small dent but because of the panel it’s located on, it’s going to be a little more than 100 bucks to ‘fix her’. The man was not happy.
Things went downhill from there. The man refused to show Sir D his ins info, and claimed neither he nor his wife had ID on them. Again…sigh.
After much (loud) conversation in the parking lot, Sir D asked me to call the police. I had to call the police and tell them, while sitting in the car at now 11 at night in the parking lot of a liquor store, with my children, that I needed police assistance. Nice.
Not one, not two, but three police cars showed up rather quickly. Two county boys and one city policeman. After much haranguing, the police were finally able to ascertain that yes, the man does indeed have a license though there was some question as to its status, and the LOM was suddenly much more willing to produce his insurance information.
Once Sir D got a hold of his ins info he went back into the liquor store (see! It even feels tawdry typing it so much!) to ask the lady if she had a copy machine he could use. The lady’s response was “No. You’re not from around here are ya?” again, nice.
After Sir D hand copied all the pertinent info, we were on our way. At 11:30 at night. By the time we got back to the RV and got all the kids settled in bed we realized that while we did have a nice bottle of wine, we forgot to get an opener.
Never mind, I didn’t want it anymore anyway.
That is going to be the most expensive bottle of wine I never drank.