The Short and the Long of It

So. I did it. I actually drove 45 miles in the middle of a winter weather advisory to attend a Writers’ Group Meeting. For you, Jennifer. Well, actually it was for me. But it makes me sound noble if I did it for someone else. Not really.

Going wasn’t nearly so scary as I expected. Maybe it was because I had conflicting concerns to deal with: walking in cold to a meeting of people I have never heard of nor met before; winding up in the cold because my car crashed, slid off the road or just broke down. Sometimes, even a coward has trouble determining what to fear.

The meeting took place at a Davanni’s Restaurant. These are pizza/sandwich places which operate similar to a burger shop. You place your order, wait for it to be made, and then take it to a table. Used to frequent one in Edina with co-workers back in the 90s. Good food.

Anyway, I arrive fifteen minutes early. It took exactly one hour to drive 45 miles – on the freeway. This was due less to the weather and more to traffic. Rush “hour” had yet to complete, and once I reached St. Paul I was averaging ten miles per hour. But with freezing/dying out on the road some place no longer a major concern, I was free to allow myself to be overcome with fear about the meeting.

The first thing I wanted to do was let Spouse and Son know I had arrived safely. To do this, I paced back and forth in front of the order counter with a five dollar bill wondering where there was a phone. I do not own a cell phone. (Don’t get started on me about that.) There was a young man (eighteen to twenty-five) at the counter and I went up to him, trying to say what I wanted to say, but stumbling over myself and restarting my sentence at least four times. Fortunately, the young man was fluent in Nit Wit and understood me completely.

You wish to use the telephone?

Yeah.

But you don’t know where it is, and you don’t have any coins?

Yeah.

Who do you need to call?

My spouse. To say I arrived safely.

The look he gave me told me he understood that completely. If there were any questions in his mind they revolved around his wondering why I was out and about without supervision in the first place.

He handed me a receiver and asked me for the number. He dialed it and Spouse answered. I said I had arrived but couldn’t talk because I was using the store phone. Then I handed the receiver back to the young man.

I told him why I was there and he said the group was meeting down the hall and to the right. There was one person already there. Did I want to order?

What? Oh. Yes. What do people usually order?

How brilliant! But, as I said, the young man understood me perfectly.

Would you like a solo pizza? It will only take a minute or two longer than a sandwich. We’ll call you when it’s ready.

Yeah. Thanks. Sausage and mushroom.

Your name?

No, that’s not my name. That’s what I want on my pizza.

What is your name?

Bevie.

Thin crust, or an entire loaf of bread dough?

Thin crust.

To The Room.

Like the young man said, only one person ahead of me. She was the sweetest little lady (SLL), just a few years older and a few feet shorter (remember, I’m 6’6”). Her name was J (actually, I believe it still is J), and she instantly made me feel welcome. I even helped her put the tables into a large square. Right on my heels was D. He was nice, too. Just as we finished with the tables Z arrived. There were two young girls, too: J (same name as SLL) and S (different name than SLL). A few minutes later J (different name) arrived and our number was complete for the night. (No Boris. Sigh. And I did my hair up special, too.) The weather kept the others at bay.

SLL had a chapter from her book critiqued. I was supposed to have been part of that, but doof that I am, I failed to realize that until it was time to give it to her. As J and the young girls were also new, and D hadn’t thought he was coming, only Z had a critique. He was good, though, and I took notes on what he had to say to SLL. A lot of what he told her applies to my writing, too.

Absolutely everyone was nice. The one little girl, J, was amazing. She reminded me of Tursa, a character in my saga, Swords of Fire. No smiles. Just intelligent, adult-like conversation. She had insight, dead-on questioning and an entirely professional manner and ease with the adults. Cheeky little thing! Showing me up like that. What gives her the right to be well-adjusted? Ha! Just wait until you become a teenager, J. Then we’ll see how confident you are. No. Seriously. She was wonderful. They all were. D showed me one of his published books (he has three or four).

The evening ended and it was time to go home. We all shook hands and talked about the next meeting. SLL and D both asked me if I planned on submitting anything for the next meeting. I said I would. I’m thinking Apprentice. Then it was time for the long drive home.

Looooonnnnngggg drive home.

It was dark. I was in The City. It had been years since I had been anywhere near here. But I got on the freeway and headed out. All I had to do was stay in my lane and I would be fine. I remembered how, once the freeway reached St. Paul’s north side, it broke into a “Y”. Go left (west), and I’m heading for home. Go right (northeast) and I’m heading for Duluth. No problem. Except.

I forgot about the road construction which took place a few years ago – after I last used this stretch of road. The snow has picked up so I’m paying close attention to the road and the traffic. Since I was convinced I knew where I was I didn’t bother to look at the signs much. I saw one with 694 on it, but the direction said “east”. I wanted to go “west”.

The traffic thinned. The lights faded. That wasn't good. And then I saw something I did not want to see. It was a large green sign with letters on it. Didn’t mind the sign really. The letters either. It was what the letters were telling me that was the bother: Duluth 137 miles. I was heading in the wrong direction! What’s more, I had to put on another ten miles before I got to an overpass to turn around.

At least now I knew exactly where I was: Forest Lake. I didn’t want to go to Forest Lake. The only time I go to Forest Lake is when I pass through on my way to my in-laws in Wisconsin. I didn’t want to go to my in-laws in Wisconsin. I wanted to go home.

By the time I got home my little 45-mile drive had become 75-miles. I came into the house and found Spouse and Son were still up. When I said I had driven 75-miles to get home Spouse immediately fell into an abandoned habit: Who did you take/took you home? When I explained what had happened, Spouse gave me another reminder of just how much I have aged – by laughing. No jealous fit like when I was in my twenties. Just laughter. I could have said anything and Spouse wouldn’t have been jealous – including that someone took me home! Sigh. I miss being a risk.

Anyway, the ice is broken and now I’m not afraid to back. (I think.)

Thank you, Jennifer. You made me do it. It wasn’t worth being afraid of, was it? (Even if they did all think I was out of my mind for driving so far in bad weather to attend my first meeting.)