Tripping To Panama City Beach With Maw and Paw

Tripping To Panama City Beach With Maw And Paw

            My trip to Panama City Beach, Florida was a treat for sure. Just like when you go to the dentist to have your wisdom teeth pulled without anesthesia.

            I had been longing for the chance to encounter a different horizon and set of circumstances to write about when the opportunity arose.

            Much to my chagrin I only found more truth about the circumstances that already surrounded my life. This was to be a vacation, not rehab.

            My beautiful, athletic daughter, who is on scholarship, would be playing in a college volleyball tournament there and we were all planning to go. Or at least I thought it was "we".

            At 4am I awoke full of vigor and with a strange clarity of mind and wanderlust. For a change I was ready to step outside my self-imposed prison to venture into the unreliable yet intriguing world.

            At 5am I received a phone call from my mother with conflicting vibes running through the telephone wires. I could tell she did not want me coming along. My heart was shattered and I was pissed. Why the sudden change? Did they think me too uncontrollable? So I did what any daughter would do wanting to go watch her child play volleyball and laid a guilt trip on her. I'll not go into the details but it worked. Minutes later the phone rang and she re-opened the invitation. Without hesitation I accepted, especially since I had no money to make the trip alone.

            I went out of my way to make the trip pleasant for my parents by driving as far as possible for them. It was like being sixteen and taking your diving test again.

            On the interstate I felt like a queen. Driving my parent's brand new Lexus, I moved like a pro racer, whizzing in and out of the speeding traffic with ease.

            I caught the eyes of a few guys passing bye, checking out the car, and I would wink. Latter I caught my dad having a little fun too. He would take out his front four, top false teeth and wiggle his tongue at cars passing by like a deranged lunatic. Something like I would have done. I did find it quite amusing.

            The fun didn't last long though. From the backseat I hear in a mild tone, "Quit patting the accelerator to catch up with those guys. You're making me sick."

            "Yes, sir," I said respectfully, but couldn't put my finger on what guys he was referring too.

            A few miles down the interstate and I am entranced in the lush greenery on all sides that seem to encompass our world, when I hear the same request, only louder, from my father.

            "Yes, sir," I responded through gritted teeth.

            For 45 minutes I once again transcend into the flourishing nature around us when I hear a scream, "Quit hitting the damn accelerator!"

            He had interrupted my tranquility one too many times and in retaliation I shouted, "It has been on cruise control the whole damn time. My foot hasn't touched the damn accelerator."

            "You're a liar. Pull over and let me drive," he demanded.

            "Fine. You can kiss my ass." ("Oops, I can't believe I spoke to him that way," comes immediately to mind and I feel faint.)

            Mom who has been snoring up until this point gives me the evil eye and states, "You shouldn't talk to your father that way."

            "He started it," I say whimpering.

            I pull into the rest stop like I'm at the Indy 500. Daddy can't find his teeth to drive with and mom is shaking her head, mumbling under her breath, "I knew we should have left you at home."

            By this time I really need a cigarette. They know I smoke but do not approve and make it impossible for me to smoke at any stop. But I've not bitched.

            For hours there is nothing but silence. I've already chewed two Ativan (nerve pills) after I realized how I hollered at my father. I feel like I'm in the sixth grade again. I cover myself up with a beach towel and scrunch down low in the back seat to be as unnoticeable as possible.

            Daddy is seething, mom is disappointed and there is nothing but silence for the next hour or so. Then shit hits the fan.

            Maw and Paw start badmouthing my daughter. Saying things like how sorry she is, that she is too wild like her mother, and that she doesn't give a shit about anyone. They go on to decide themselves how they are going to correct the matter. All the while, none of the conversation includes me. I'm invisible, irrelevant in their world because they control the purse strings.

            Now I'm seething. I'm ready to start telling them both off when I open my mouth and nothing comes out. The scared little girl, cowering under the beach towel, is still present. I close my mouth because I don't want the vomit that has risen to the top of my esophagus to come spewing out all over their new car.

            All I can do now is pray to get to the beach as soon as possible. I'm ready for a cold beer. I don't care if I'm not supposed to mix Ativan and alcohol. It seems the Ativan needs a little help anyway because it sure as shit is not working at this point. So I take two more before I totally freak out.  Claustrophobia has definitely set in.

            Of course leave it to daddy to take a six-hour trip and turn it into a nine-hour, bumper to bumper, scenic tour. I was completely frenzied when we finally made it to our destination. We unpacked and I popped my fifth Ativan. At this point I'm beginning to wonder if they have given me sugar pills.

            It had been years since I had seen the beach. The ocean, standing from the patio of our room was bewildering. It beckoned my name. And so I went forth in search of the nectar that would soothe my nerves.

            As I walked upon the sandy carpet my legs began to cramp. Why was I not running across the sand with ease like the Bay Watch Babes? It was hard as hell to walk on the sand. But I had to search from the beach because maw and paw said they were going out to drive around. So I could not be found out by walking on the road. They would have asked to many questions.

            I trudged a little further down the beach when I could no longer go on. I sat to rest, got sand up the crack of my ass, and attacked by those vile little crabs. Oh, Hell No! Those little bastards would have to find someone else to irritate, and with that I felt totally rejuvenated. I jumped back to my feet and started my trek in the direction of the beautiful lights that illuminated by the oceanfront. The lights were a good distance away but my need for medicinal comfort was great.

            After walking about a mile, something I would never do on any other god given day, I reached paradise. I poured the sand from my shoes and crawled up the steps. A friendly bartender named Cody, who fixed me up just right, greeted me. He poured me three 24 oz. beers that I chugged down in about 30 minutes. I walked home, on the road; I didn't care now, with a fourth in hand. I was feeling just right.

            Once back at the hotel, I grabbed the comforter from the bed and headed to the beach. I relaxed on a hard bench by the ocean. I lay there, comfortable for a change.

            All the alcohol and Ativan had finally kicked in. While lying there the day's misery turned to peace. The winds from the ocean wrapped me in solace. The chilly breeze was gentle and smoothing like a lost lovers touch I have long missed. I looked out over the sea to try and grasp what it is everyone loves so much about it. It depresses me. It looks so lonely out there in the vastness. The blackness encompasses everything before me and it scares the hell out of me yet I surrender. I pray that there is Nirvana on the other side.

            My prayer was answered. As the early morning sun rose so brilliantly over the sea my eyes began to twinkle to the incoming barrage of light. At first I wondered where I lay. But it only took a second to see I had not moved from the night before. That Nirvana had come and it was here on earth with me. What I would make of it would be up to me.

            I felt guilty and thankful that I had awakened to yet another beautiful day that God had created for us to enjoy with everyone.

            I marched up to my parent's room and told them how wonderful they were. I told them that I was lucky to have them as parents and that I loved them. Next I went to my daughter's room to let her know that no matter, win or loose, she would always be a winner in my heart and that I loved her more than life itself.

            Luckily I have no wisdom teeth that have to be pulled by the dentist.