This is Bossy’s cockpit. This is where the magic happens, and when Bossy says magic she is referring to the numerous schizophrenic phone calls made to her husband dictating her last will and testament as she drives across large expanses of dark abandoned highway.
Bossy spends an average of seven hours a day in this cockpit, typically beginning in the very early hours of the morning. In fact it’s so early when Bossy climbs in the car, those hours should legally belong to the night prior.
This cockpit is located in the Saturn Vue, which Bossy will exchange on Monday afternoon. She has become very attached to her Saturn Vue, but she’s not ready to tell you all the reasons why. She’s not ready to tell you all the reasons why because she still needs to download her Saturn photos. But she can say this about the Saturn Vue in the words of her Grandma Charlotte —and when you read it aloud please do so in the voice of someone who lives on the 6th floor of a Jewish retirement high rise—“What’s not to love?”
In other news: if there’s anything annoying about this Excellent Road Trip, it’s not being able to post about this Excellent Road Trip. Almost as annoying as the fact that there is a McDonalds located at every off-ramp. Because there should be two McDonalds at every off-ramp.
Bossy has so many things she wants to tell you—for instance about her day in New Orleans. About the numerous remnants of Hurricane Katrina, like the missing chunks of the bridge’s guardrail:
And she wants to tell you about this:
And about the textures in the French Quarter:
And Bossy would love to tell you all about how she and her host and her stalker stood right there in the aisle of the French Quarter drugstore and they talked and talked until they solved the motherhood/stress crisis. Done. Hint: it involves yelling a big bunch.
But instead of telling you about all of that, Bossy will instead tell you the tale about how she was preparing for bed at 11:30 pm when she realized she left her saline solution in Tallahassee—but first Bossy had to make certain this was true, a task she accomplished by packing and unpacking her suitcase forty-five times while making repeated trips out to the sleepy driveway in her striped pajamas.
At one point Bossy climbed in her car in order to purchase a new bottle of saline at an all-night supermarket. She even drove a few blocks in a rodent’s maze before realizing if she continued she would never again find her host’s house or her stuff which was currently strewn around every surface of the homey guest room.
So Bossy went back to the house intent on packing and leaving, because in her delirious state anything was more reasonable than dealing with a pair of dry contact lenses, even if that something was driving all night toward Dallas.
And as Bossy was packing up her things, zipping and unzipping a million compartments in her luggage, she found her saline solution.
Ah, life on the road. Did Jack Kerouac wear contacts?
So then Bossy slept for thirteen minutes and hit the road toward Dallas. Do you know what happens when you go to bed too late because you’re the dumb ass who forgot that you nestled your saline solution next to your phone charger and your alarm goes off at four in the morning? Bossy will tell you what happens: you lose your forehead frown lines. Bossy isn’t even kidding, they fell off like fingerprints:
And speaking of Excellent Road Trips, this is everything you need to know about the area between Baton Rouge and Shreveport Louisiana: