Freedom On the Weekend
I went away this weekend, at least for half a weekend. I left on Saturday afternoon and came back after work today. Staying that extra night meant getting up at 0530 and stumbling into the car at 0600, but it was worth it just for a few more hours of freedom.
Getting away these days reminds me of when I was a teenager--the quiet thrill of being alone, with no one to direct you or nag you. Nowadays it's more like no one to dictate a trip to the toy store and no one to carp about today's bag lunch. No one to demand "Green Day!!, Green Day", when I want to listen to Maroon 5 instead. And I can watch whatever I want on television. It's hard to admit, but the freedom to sit and flip between baseball and an ancient episode of Mayberry RFD is also a luxury. A small luxury but still.
It takes me about two hours to drive those 100 miles. There's a quick zip up a real highway and then town after town on a mostly two lane road. Once I would have called most of these towns "god forsaken" or "East Jesus" but the miles of heavy commuter traffic heading south in the mornings tells a different story. I learned the hard way this morning as I bumped along going about 25 MPH.
Inevitably, I ended up behind my share of locals who plod along right at the posted speed limit. I do try to slow down and drive the speed limit through these small towns. I grew up in a town like this and I can just imagine the ire the locals feel when "city people" zip through endangering pets and maybe sometimes small children. But I know the other side too. My father drove a beat up pickup truck around town way back when and he made sure that during the summer he never drove faster than 15 mph. He did it just to piss off the "out of stah-tahs"--no other reason.Or maybe he figured he should give the tourists something to talk about or maybe he thought he should reinforce their stereotypes. Back then the state motto was "Vacationland" so maybe he assumed it was his responsibility as a native to remind the tourists that they were there in his territory to enjoy themselves, so "they bettah slow down"....and vacation, dammit.
I had a great time as always while I was away. I luxuriated in my modest hotel room. I got to choose which bed I'd sleep in and where to have dinner. I wondered if it would be strange to eat alone at a restaurant but it wasn't. Long ago in a different life, I traveled constantly for business and the rare dinner out alone was a treat. I found that it's still nice--especially with a good book. I also found that the self-consciousness that sometimes bothered me is gone. I've noticed that a lot lately. I no longer think about how I appear or seem to anyone else. It's very freeing. It's probably one of those side benefits of "maturity" that occur naturally. I like it.
Freedom did have its price on Monday morning though and it was steeper than I'd expected. Late on Sunday I got a call from the ex demanding to know when I'd be home. We went back and forth but the topper came from him: "I never imagined you'd stay over on a school night!" Gee, what a wild life we lead...the ex thinks that a Sunday night out late is a big deal...a "school night"...oh, dear. Anyway, I raced home in the morning to find that the kids had returned home, made their lunches and walked to school right on time. Later when I called my daughter, she told me what fun they'd had making their own lunches and going off on their own. I felt very lucky and very glad to give up my freedom--at least for now.
Getting away these days reminds me of when I was a teenager--the quiet thrill of being alone, with no one to direct you or nag you. Nowadays it's more like no one to dictate a trip to the toy store and no one to carp about today's bag lunch. No one to demand "Green Day!!, Green Day", when I want to listen to Maroon 5 instead. And I can watch whatever I want on television. It's hard to admit, but the freedom to sit and flip between baseball and an ancient episode of Mayberry RFD is also a luxury. A small luxury but still.
It takes me about two hours to drive those 100 miles. There's a quick zip up a real highway and then town after town on a mostly two lane road. Once I would have called most of these towns "god forsaken" or "East Jesus" but the miles of heavy commuter traffic heading south in the mornings tells a different story. I learned the hard way this morning as I bumped along going about 25 MPH.
Inevitably, I ended up behind my share of locals who plod along right at the posted speed limit. I do try to slow down and drive the speed limit through these small towns. I grew up in a town like this and I can just imagine the ire the locals feel when "city people" zip through endangering pets and maybe sometimes small children. But I know the other side too. My father drove a beat up pickup truck around town way back when and he made sure that during the summer he never drove faster than 15 mph. He did it just to piss off the "out of stah-tahs"--no other reason.Or maybe he figured he should give the tourists something to talk about or maybe he thought he should reinforce their stereotypes. Back then the state motto was "Vacationland" so maybe he assumed it was his responsibility as a native to remind the tourists that they were there in his territory to enjoy themselves, so "they bettah slow down"....and vacation, dammit.
I had a great time as always while I was away. I luxuriated in my modest hotel room. I got to choose which bed I'd sleep in and where to have dinner. I wondered if it would be strange to eat alone at a restaurant but it wasn't. Long ago in a different life, I traveled constantly for business and the rare dinner out alone was a treat. I found that it's still nice--especially with a good book. I also found that the self-consciousness that sometimes bothered me is gone. I've noticed that a lot lately. I no longer think about how I appear or seem to anyone else. It's very freeing. It's probably one of those side benefits of "maturity" that occur naturally. I like it.
Freedom did have its price on Monday morning though and it was steeper than I'd expected. Late on Sunday I got a call from the ex demanding to know when I'd be home. We went back and forth but the topper came from him: "I never imagined you'd stay over on a school night!" Gee, what a wild life we lead...the ex thinks that a Sunday night out late is a big deal...a "school night"...oh, dear. Anyway, I raced home in the morning to find that the kids had returned home, made their lunches and walked to school right on time. Later when I called my daughter, she told me what fun they'd had making their own lunches and going off on their own. I felt very lucky and very glad to give up my freedom--at least for now.
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