The Drive Home

Don't get me wrong. I had a wonderful time in Painesville, playing Rock Band and hanging out. It's true, I did accidentally rub my eye the wrong way, got some allergen in it, and watched (see, funny?) as both my eyes swelled to look like what you imagine the Hunchback of Notre Dame looks like up close. But she had giant white sunglasses for me to wear, and with my blue plaid shirt, I almost but not quite pulled off the reticent indie pop starling. Until the failure known as Sweet Home Alabama.

But thing is, driving back from Painesville, on Rt 2, late night, all the way back to W. 150th? It's like traveling out of the 9 circles of hell.

Hell 9 is when you're driving on these unfamiliar 40 mph streets, looking for the highway entrance.
Hell 8 is getting on the highway and realizing it is still pitch black and your car refuses to warm up.
Hell 7 is this long stretch of black nothing in front of you for 20 minutes, with deer waiting in the shadows like woodland assassins.
Hell 6 is hitting the one lane only construction, with concrete walls on both sides and barrels and it's not really a car lane more like a bike lane and there's cop lights everywhere littered along the construction zone specifically to make it hard to see the "lane".
Hell 5 is then the ten minute stretch of finished expanded highway, with giant excavated dust shoulders, where machinery used to sit, the whole area eerily well lit and empty, exactly the place where hitchhikers would wait for you to break down and then stab you and take your car.
Hell 4 is Mentor.
Hell 3 is the end of Rt 2, as it becomes 90 west and suddenly there are 7 drunk cars on the road with you trying to decide if they are going west or south, while you're still trying to figure out if the speed limit is still 50.
Hell 2 is trying to decide if 90 or 71 will have more cops.
Hell 1 is tearing off your clothes as fast you can, because you've been in this bra for over 12 hours and need to rid your body of everything restraining immediately or circulation will be lost forever. And then having to stay up more, though being exhausted. See, not so bad. The last circle is home.

Edit: I had a flash last night, while singing Santeria rather loudly as their adorable kid slept a few rooms away, of listening to my parents watching movies and hanging out when I was little, lying in bed and trying to stay awake to hear the movie I wasn't old enough to watch, and how many little kids are going to grow up with that exact same memory only instead of a movie it will be Guitar Hero.