When we got off the plane at LAX, I was ready for more travel. Our week-long trip to my family's cabin on Flathead Lake in Montana had been a good test to see how trekking with the twins worked out. (More words and pics about the trip here and here.)
It was about 3:00 p.m. and we had been on the move since 7:00 a.m. California time. The kids were still in great spirits despite having missed their first nap. We still had a two hour drive home from LAX--we flew from there because of cheap tickets and a direct flight--and I was confident they would sleep all the way home.
I guess a week in Montana made me forget all about the phenomenon known as "traffic." Sure, we had gotten behind some rickety RV's and horse trailers driving between Missoula and the Res, but what we encountered here was full-on SoCal style Friday afternoon mayhem. We tuned into the traffic report and heard about a wooden crib in the HOV lane (there's always something in the lanes--furniture, ladders, parts of cars, human carnage), baseball game traffic, LGBT Pride traffic, and garden variety rush hour traffic.
Alas, there would be no napping for the little ladies. Like me, they don't find stop-and-go relaxing. At the two hour mark, when we should have been gingerly waking the little angels from their slumber so we could carry them into the house, we were instead battling our way across a vast military base, hoping we didn't run out of gas before we hit the next rest stop, twenty miles away. At that point, Cobra started making her distinctive poop-grunts, on the heels of which followed cries of unextinguishable anguish.
After an excruciating hour, we had crawled the twenty miles to civilization, such as it was--a seaside town where, according to the dusty postcards in the gas station, the women wear thongs, crimp their hair, and hump large motorcycles, and the men enjoy steroids, acid-washed jeans, and mullets. In the shad of the lone tree in a Denny's parking lot, we changed Cobra's diaper (which revealed that all her sound and fury signified very little) and her sweat-soaked onesie.
When we finally got home (total elapsed time 4 hrs 15 minutes), I dropped to my knees and kissed the laminate flooring. "I will never leave this place again!" I sobbed.
That reminds me. I have to make arrangements for dog-care while we go to L.A. next weekend.