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Christmas in Maine

My story begins on Friday the 20th. My bus was delayed due to the previous days storm and the inefficiency to get back up and running 100% when shutting down. Later we hear from a father talking to his daughter on his cell. Her bus from Boston, and therefore my bus was broken down in Kennebunk. Alternator was shot or something. Another bus bound for the north finally arrived going a different route but would still get me to Bangor. We had to go through Brunswick instead. OK I was thinking. Fine.

First, I have to sit in the very front which, again, is fine. Then the driver asked me my name and tells me though this only the 3rd time he's done this route there is only one place in Brunswick he gets confused and maybe reading the directions out loud will help him. So I do it. I read for him to veer left and he turns left. I will point out here the directions they give their drivers suck ass. No mile markers and very few landmarks. So we drive and drive. I see signs for Bath, Woolwich, Wiscassett, Damarascotta and end up in Waldeboro before the bus gets into an uproar. We tell the driver we're pretty sure we past Brunswick so he stops at a gas station to ask directions!

Here's how far off course we were:


View Larger Map

After we backtrack to let the lone passenger off and go to Bangor, the trip goes much smoother. When we arrive, he has the bus give me a round of applause. I wanted to die. As was I came down with a cold...

Unlike most of my vacations, I didn't really watch any new movies except for a few TV movies. I will say though that The Nativity Story and even The Family Stone have a lot of re-watchablity.

Oh, I also finished reading Skipping Christmas by John Grisham. It was almost Dave Barry in it's quirkiness. I liked it.

At one point before Christmas, my mother and I went out with her next-door neighbor growing up in Bangor and her young daughter. The Chinese was good. The kid was brilliant but had no social filters. She wanted to talk about animal dissection during most of dinner. My favorite line was "I'm a very flatulent child."

The night before we came down to Portland, we played the closest game of "Sorry!" any of us had ever played. Any one of us had a good shot to win...

The party with my father's side of the family went very well even with my young cousin. The visit with the other side of the family could have been better as my littler cousin was there, though my mother lied to me and said he wasn't, and he's at that annoying age where he's an attention whore.

Why do I want kids again?

Comments

Cathy said…
That bus route?? I would have freaked out!

As for kids, trust me, you always feel different about your own. Regardless of what they may or may not be doing ;)

I miss all of you!
JRRyan said…
You poor thing. I'd have been in tears.

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