Desire Fulfilled

It was, I admit, an ambitious effort.

As I collapse into my Big Comfy TV Watchin’ Chair ™ I let the road wash from me like a bad hangover. The car’s engine ticks cool in the garage and the foyer is a landfill of discarded luggage and once well organized duffel bags now stuffed with crumpled clothes and the random accoutrements of a two-week trip.

My son, my darling infant son who is the light of my life, scurries around the room, unwinding like a ball of twine rolled down the hill, and I wonder seriously not for the first time today whether I would, given the choice, use category 1 narcotics on the boy for a moment’s peace. I decide, again not for the first time today, that no I would not, but I would be hard pressed not to use them myself.

With 3014 miles recorded on the GPS, we are home. Let’s never leave it again.

If you followed the news last week you know that the number of Americans traveling for this festive November holiday season is up pretty dramatically. I can confirm based on personal experience that the reports of increased holiday travel is not over stated. And as many as half of those drivers should be brought up in international court on charges of crimes against humanity.

I have, for example, many times driven the wasteland that normally is I-57 between Champaign, Illinois, and Memphis, Tennessee. This 400 miles of interstate is the relative mid-way point for our cross-country excursion, and it is normally the kind of road where one simply pushes the cruise control and then evaporates into a fugue state of nodding occasionally to convince the wife that yes, in fact you are listening to her discuss the various maladies which have befallen people you barely remember having met in the first place. Yes, dear. I swear I am listening.

This time, however, these normally tame roads are packed as though the entire southern population were evacuating the kind of hurricane that Roland Emmerich might make a movie about. In the spitting rain of Paducah, Kentucky -- an apropos meteorological metaphor for that area of the country -- a string of red lights stretches before me as far as the eye can see like the holiday decorations of the damned in whatever circle of hell you go to for changing lanes without using a blinker. I conclude that all future interactions with far away relatives will be conducted exclusive by web cam or telegraph.

The infant has just finally broken down whatever emotional barriers had been stemming a hellborn tide of heretofore unknown rage. His is the fury which bards of yore would have sung of in minor keys and hushed voices lest their verse beckon forth his ire. And my older son, in what I can only describe as an uncharacteristically savvy effort of self preservation, moves not a muscle as he quietly plays New Super Mario Brothers on the DS lest he be noticed and asked to stem the demon tide spewing forth from the mouth of his sibling.

It was here, in this moment, that I realized how much I rely on video games to preserve my sanity.

The trip as a whole to that point had been largely pleasant, but the decision to migrate permanently to a portable computing solution felt this past week like the sort of move my present self should go back in time to thank my past self about. Having Dragon Age right there at my disposal in the periodic downtime between processing unusual foods and engaging in friendly banalities with pleasant but mostly unfamiliar relatives-in-law was a comfort of home that gave me much needed succor and comfort.

But the road -- that damnable road -- aside from the occasional round of Flight Control while pumping gas at dingy Alabama “fillin’ stations” there was no gaming to be had. As babies screamed and brake lights flared, my mind fixed firmly on the glorious release to be had when I sat in said Big Comfy Chair and put controller in hand.

Now that moment is upon me. The baby, his demons again tempered behind whatever emotional barriers he has tenuously erected, entertains himself happy to be free of the five-point harness which I believe is the only thing that prevented him from tearing the flesh from our face and necks. My wife has absconded to the bedroom where she escapes into a Stephen King book in which horrible things happened to people who are not us and no one is stuck in traffic. I press that glorious button at the center of my white controller and jump into the world of Forza 3.

With glee, I will crash into every car on that first race track.

Comments

I don't have much to add except to say, very well-written. As a child of divorced-but-within-driving-distance parents and now with a 14-month-old of my own, I've made the executive decision to not travel on the holidays for just these reasons.

Also, if you can block out the demonic cacophony of a temper tantrum with naught but your DS, I applaud you. You are a more capable man than I.

Thanks for this article, Elysium. It struck a chord.

Do you not alternate driving with your wife? If you do, I have one word for you, for those times when you are in the passenger seat:

Inverter.

Hans

Thanks for that great write-up. You have hardened my resolve to not travel for Christmas. My wife may hate you though.

My relatives are either within a 45 minute zone of driving distance, or in another country that requires air-assisted travel for maximum safetitude.

I can honestly say I have never driven too far for the holidays -- exceptions being my 120 mile * 2 treks to/from San Diego/Los Angeles on days that I had work immediately after (Holiday X).

I know that people make these insane trips. Intellectually, this is understandable. But deep down, I just don't believe anyone would do such a thing to their sanity, ass, or digestive system. Hats off to you, for putting yourself through this gauntlet. At about hour 4 I'd probably be trying to find a way to mount a DS to my wheel.

The last sentence made that article!

That was fantastic. I might have this read back to me next time I am stuck in traffic.

I remember those times all too well, and are glad they are far behind me. But sometime in the not too distant future (4 or 5 years), you will pull out on that highway and not hear a peep from the back end of the minivan provided the boys have headphones or are willing to play with the sound off (because several hours of any DS soundtrack will have you ready to drive into the next bridge abutment). These days with the boys at 11 and 15, it's tougher to get them out of the car to deal with either end of the digestive system than it ever was to stuff them into that car seat.

I feel like there's one word missing from the end of your article.

Amen.

"With glee, I will crash into every car on that first race track."

Yea, I can understand that perfectly.

Elysium wrote:

The infant, the light of my life and son of my loins, has just finally broken down whatever emotional barriers had been stemming a hellborn tide of heretofore unknown rage. His is the fury which bards of yore would have sung of in minor keys and hushed voices lest their verse beckon forth his ire.

Your son is the keymaster Vinz Clortho?!? It is for this very reason that your son and my daughter - the Gatekeeper Zuul - must never cross paths, lest they transform into their true manifestations, summon Gozer, and bring about the end of the world.

And if either of your kids asks if you are a god...say YES!

Elysium wrote:

The infant, the light of my life and son of my loins.

That's a very, very disturbing literary reference.

Elysium, I feel your pain. In this latest of ramblings, I find a kindred spirit, for I too have ventured forth to partake of the visiting of relatives. I too, found myself listening to my 15 month old let loose upon us a keening wail reminiscent of the Banshee.

Thankfully, my wife had the foresight to make the trip to my parents house at night, so I only had to go through it once.

Was it subconscious that the picture you chose to go with your article looks an awful lot like Guitar Hero?

Welcome back!

That's a very, very disturbing literary reference.

Too true. Casual and poorly considered reference deleted.

The baby, his demons again tempered behind whatever emotional barriers he has tenuously erected, entertains himself happy to be free of the five-point harness which I believe is the only thing that prevented him from tearing the flesh from our face and necks.

As a father of two-- 2.5 years and 0.25 years, respectively-- all I can say is Been There.

Thankfully, we have just completed a move from an apartment to a house fifty miles away. For those of you not acclimated to driving in the greater Boston area, fifty miles = 1.5 hours any day of the week, except during rush hour when it's 4 hours.

Oh, how the littler one hates his car seat.

On the plus side, the older one can be placated with the application of Pixar. I'd like to meet whoever invented the portable DVD player, and kiss him full on the mouth.

I'd like to meet whoever invented the portable DVD player, and kiss him full on the mouth.

I did not mention it, but shortly before the return journey, the portable DVD player was stepped on and its LCD screen became more like an LSD screen! (Hi-Oh!) It stopped working entirely shortly after and proved useless for 1400 miles. Lo, there was wailing and gnashing of teeth.

adam.greenbrier wrote:

Thanks for this article, Elysium. It struck a chord.

Agreed, wholeheartedly. Great article.

OzymandiasAV wrote:
adam.greenbrier wrote:

Thanks for this article, Elysium. It struck a chord.

Agreed, wholeheartedly. Great article.

Superb article!!, Thanks!

Man, I live in Toronto, but I had to travel down to the US for a wedding in the family that was scheduled for Black Friday. That was not fun. The interstate driving was actually pretty good; it was the border that sucked ass.

stupidhaiku wrote:

Was it subconscious that the picture you chose to go with your article looks an awful lot like Guitar Hero?

Watch out for the 4 sedan chords!

Elysium wrote:

It stopped working entirely shortly after and proved useless for 1400 miles. Lo, there was wailing and gnashing of teeth.

OUCH!!! I don't even have kids of my own (I do have 9 nieces/nephews) and I can imagine that would make anyone homicidal.

Chairman_Mao wrote:
Elysium wrote:

The infant, the light of my life and son of my loins.

That's a very, very disturbing literary reference.

Elysium wrote:
That's a very, very disturbing literary reference.

Too true. Casual and poorly considered reference deleted.

Shame, that. Now it's going to seem out of place when I talk about my loins as the light of my life.

Fellow DINKs, can I get a high-five?

Quintin_Stone wrote:

Fellow DINKs, can I get a high-five? ;)

I had to look that term up. And yes, that sort of story gives me a warm fuzzy inside.

Coldstream wrote:
Quintin_Stone wrote:

Fellow DINKs, can I get a high-five? ;)

I had to look that term up. And yes, that sort of story gives me a warm fuzzy inside.

Rabbit has the knack of making me want kids, Elysium is the cure for that desire.

While most of the article is largely a mystery to me, this:

It was here, in this moment, that I realized how much I rely on video games to preserve my sanity.

speaks to me. Gaming is a big part of how I decompress mentally and emotionally. After a rough day some time spent shooting aliens in the face or killing Darkspawn is very relaxing.

Quintin_Stone wrote:

Fellow DINKs, can I get a high-five? ;)

HIGH FRIGGIN' FIVE!

I coach youth hockey (5-8 year olds) twice a week for two reasons: 1) I like the game and its pretty much free ice time for me nd 2) birth control! Some people's kids I tell ya. . .

BTW - excellent article - My holiday travel was to in-laws as well who are 6 hours one way away, so I know the tiresome hum of the interstate well.

Quintin_Stone wrote:

Fellow DINKs, can I get a high-five? ;)

I would, but I'd rather post this:
IMAGE(http://www.skyrender.net/lp/part7_17pc.png)

wordsmythe wrote:
Quintin_Stone wrote:

Fellow DINKs, can I get a high-five? ;)

I would, but I'd rather post this:
IMAGE(http://www.skyrender.net/lp/part7_17pc.png)

King's Quest?