The Christmas of Steve

There was a fall and winter I lived in Kentucky where I was very sickly all the time. It seemed like I was always fighting off strep or bronchitis or a cold. I don’t have the best record of going to the doctor when I get sick anyway because I assume my body should just fight it off itself, and when I’m left to my own with no one to force me to go, I just suffer through it. This was one of those exact incidents. I was coughing pretty badly for awhile and decided to tough it out. In rebellion my body manifested its illness in hives, while I was stuck in the Detroit airport, during a snow storm, alone.

Since my flight was headed to Lincoln though, I was surrounded my nice Mid-westerners. I found a friendly couple in line, and rented a car with Steve, his wife, Marine guy, and Air Force guy. Now this was also around the time when my brother and I were calling everyone/thing “Steve”.

Mom- “Who was that on the phone?”

Us- “Steve”

 

Mom- “Why is there a creepy skeleton head in the Christmas punch?”

Us- “That’s Steve”

So I happened to think the idea of driving across the country with Steve was hilarious!

 

The idea was that we’d all drive a little bit through the night, and get home in time for Christmas. First off, we weren’t the only ones with this idea and the line to get a rental car was really long. Plenty of time to get to know each other and realize a 12 hour drive (in good weather) with Marines and Air Force guy was going to suck. Between the one-upping of each another, dissing of the other’s branch and overall low IQ’s, I was inwardly groaning before we ever got in the car. Not to mention that by this time my mom and boyfriend were freaking out that I’d get attacked by these people on this trip (they weren’t as excited about the Steve thing as I was) so I just shut my phone off.

Then I started to get really, really itchy. And miserable. We were hardly moving down the road because of the massive snow storm. It was getting to be late at night and we were realizing we’d have to drive longer and later than we expected. I was bundled up in my coat and really tired of listening to the banter. So I took a Benadryl and passed out. Yes, passed out, in a car, with strangers. But it seemed like a better option than listening to Marines and Air Force talk about who was better and trying not to awkwardly scratch myself.

I made it safely home and paid my part of the rental car in Lincoln. All’s well. But I still think about this trip when I’m doing something particularly dreadful, because nothing will ever be as dreadful as that hive infested drive with strangers.