Mutant Summit 5: A Mutant Goes A-Travelin' Part 1

I like my job. Usually. But when the heat, humidity and tourists of summer roll around, it becomes a bit less than enchanting. For one thing, you can detect people with poor personal hygiene from a range of five hundred yards, and their... essence... tends to linger in the vicinity long after they've left. (Which leads the new and uninformed customer to sniff the air and look at you in an unflatteringly meaningful way.) I could go on, but suffice to say it was time to shovel the kids into the Neon and... well, get out of Dodge.

Yup... Mr. Coffee's up and running!

It'd been a few years since I'd visited my family out east, so that was the logical destination. The bonus was that Lissa and her husband Duckie live an easy forty minute drive from the ol' homestead and I had an open invitation to visit. And then I really started thinking. It's dangerous when I do that, you know.

The end result was 1,900+ miles on the odometer and summit time with Justin, Lissa and Drew. Nothing to compare to the quintuple mutant meeting of Justin's matrimonial weekend, but not bad for a middle-aged broad and her duo of spawn!

So in Mutant Viewing or Captain's Log fashion... whichever you prefer, here are the highlights, lowlights and general crazed ramblings of my "vacation".

Day One:

I have sworn to leave the house by seven o'clock in the morning. We are packed. We are ready. Spawns of Mutant 1 and 2 (hereinafter known as SoM1, SoM2) bustle happily from kitchen to car with luggage, books, CD's, water bottles and other vacation necessities. I check email and hug the hounds. Hound A. knows exactly what's going on and makes it clear that he will shred something in retribution for my desertion. I have already pre-emptively set out certain expendable items on the sacrificial alters of his choice. (A bookshelf and an end table.) Hound B. has the intellect of bellybutton lint. No problems there.

We leave the house at 7:00 exactly. However we have to stop for gas, and breakfast, and there's a video to drop off at the library or it'll be overdue, and.. okay, we leave TOWN around 7:30. I tried.

We make Illinois in decent time and stop at their "Welcome Center". I tell the SoM's to use the bathroom here because I will not stop in Chicago come heck, high water or carjackers. They comply then beg for ten minutes to stretch their legs in the playground. I'm not sure who designed the play area, but clearly they expect it to be used by 300 lb. truckers. Everything seems to be crafted out of railroad ties and industrial sized rivets. This includes the seesaw which scored a bloody nose off of SoM1 last time we came through here. This time I make it off limits.

We survive Chicago! YEAH! I take a moment to thank the Lord and unclamp my fingers from the steering wheel. They burn. Oh how they burn.

Wake me up before you go-go

I've been to Michigan once before, but only in the middle of the night to pick up a load of baby goats. (But that's another story.) I had the impression of many trees.

We drive through Michigan. I have the impression of many trees.

"Look at all these little towns," I babble cheerfully to SoM1, my captive audience. (SoM2 is asleep.) "Little towns just like ours, full of people with their own histories and their own stories. Romance and tragedy. Comedy and pathos. Fascinating stories that we'll never hear because the world is just that big, and we're a very small and insignificant part of it. Isn't that amazing?"

"Mom," he replies with the exaggerated and condescending patience that only a newly minted teenager can muster, "it's because we live in a temperate zone."

I decide not to talk to SoM1 anymore.

We stop once at some random Burger King for sustenance, and once for gas. On the way out of the gas station, I notice my oil light flicker. Hmm. I'd checked the tires, had the air conditioner charged, topped off the windshield washer fluid, didn't I look at.... oh dear. Two miles later, I pull into the next gas station and check the oil. Or rather, the lack thereof. Nervously I pour in two quarts while SoM1 sits in the shade and whines about how hot it is. I offer to let him walk. To Philadelphia.

As we approach the lair of the Head Mutant, I hand the print-out of his directions back to SoM2. This is not an area where I want to read and drive at the same time, so the job of navigator is passed on to her. Highway signs are coming up fast and missing a turn could be disastrous.

"I think the directions start on the third paragraph, sweetie. Can you read them for me please?"

"As - for - you - coming - out - that - date - sounds - fine," she intones laboriously as mile marker signs flash past. "I - have - a -wedding - rehearsal - on - the - 10th - but - that’s - not - till - the - evening." Pause for deep breath and she lurches into, "Thursday’s - my - day - off - so..."

"NEXT PARAGRAPH! NEXT PARAGRAPH!"

"You -said- the third one," she sulks, very much offended.

In any case we find the town, find the apartment complex, wander about aimlessly because the BUILDINGS ARE NOT WELL MARKED, and at last knock on a random door hoping it's the right one. It is.

Justin welcomes us with open arms and his trademark piratical smile. SoM2, sensing danger, moves a little closer to me. She's shy but warms up enough eventually to show her blonde side. SoM1... well, let us say that I really wish I'd let him take that walk to Philly.

For the record, Justin's place is so chock full of movie memorabilia and general weirdness, he could sell tickets. The gigantic pez dispenser and the shrunken head were particular favorites. (Although Justin was strangely coy when I inquired as to the identification of the head, and for that matter, the skull in the corner. Perhaps there is a sinister explanation to the missing mutants of lore. I drop the subject quickly.)

No sneaker deserves this

When Caramel comes home from work, the newlyweds greet each other in the time honored tradition of bunny ears countered by a moistened finger in the ear canal. Truly this match was made in Heaven. SoM2 sidles even closer to me. Another millimeter and technically I think I'd be pregnant with her again. Caramel breaks the ice by swooping down on SoM2's sneakers, unlacing them and then re-lacing them. Backwards. Later she will chattily relate that she used to work with children all the time until the 'little incident'. I hope that Justin and his missus will contribute toward SoM2's imminent psychotherapy bills. (Seriously, Caramel was a terrific hostess. I think she was a little worried about that.)

Justin has to wander off for a work-related duty (the aforementioned wedding rehearsal), so we three womenfolk watch "Chasing Liberty" while SoM1, who has been surly, arrogant and an altogether wretched little snot, plays Rise of Nations on the hallowed Head Mutant's computer and mutters to himself about being killed. He has no idea.

When Justin returns, we're just scrolling through closing credits and quite frankly I have had a very long day and the brain cells are systematically shutting down whether I want them to or not. Into the darkening void, Justin says, "Want to do a Mutant Viewing?" With a detached sense of horror, I hear myself agree.

It was a happy time!

To J.'s devastation, his brand new copy of Cybermutt turns out to be broken. He is inconsolable. We watch The Goonies instead. I have read the transcript. I have no recollection of writing most of it. Viewing complete, sleep happens.

Day Two:

In the morning Caramel does not rise from her lair. (I think we scared her too much.) Justin makes omelettes, threatens me with a knife and tries to strangle my firstborn. Who can blame him? Afterwards he burns CD's for the kids. SoM1 remains unimpressed and unwittingly on the razor edge of extinction. SoM2 is enchanted. Water buffalos and "pirates who don't do anything" will become an integral part of the rest of our trip. As will a recipe for banana bread set to music. No, I am not making any of this up.

After a bit of chitchat and the opportunity to see the master Mutant at work on the Revenge of the Sith page, we clamber back into ol' Amethyst and start the marathon drive to my parents' house. It will take just over nine hours, not including pit stops. Still, I’m in a good mood and on a roll. Despite contingency plans to stop in western Pennsylvania for the night, the land of hoagies and cheesesteaks beckons. My foot stays firmly on the pedal, another quart of oil is added, and as the sun begins to set, our journey comes to a end.

Phase one is complete.

Continue Sue's Immortal Journey in... PART 2