Where do I begin? It was Christmas Eve nine years ago. Clifford and I had been married for 2 months. We were headed up to my childhood home in Northern Indiana for Christmas – our first as a married couple.
The haul from Atlanta to Northern Indiana is about 11 hours. Clifford had to work that day so we we’d be driving overnight arriving around 6AM. We didn’t run into any issues, really. The mountains were relatively clear and we didn’t hit much snow till Indy.
The thing about Northern Indiana is there is a whole lot of nothing. There are fields, and more fields. There are tiny towns spread sporadically throughout, but this is a part of the country built on farmers’ backs. There isn’t late night Chinese delivery (there likely isn’t any Chinese delivery). Pool halls open till 2AM are few and far between. There are no comedy clubs or nightlife along that long lonely road home. Clifford and I were driving through sleepy little towns in America’s Heartland where things like gas stations and restaurants are not open 24 hours a day.
So when at 5AM, technically on Christmas morning, an hour away from what I still truly considered my home, Clifford tells me he has to pee, I smile knowingly and a little annoyed.
Let me explain about the “annoyed” – the final hour of any long road trip … you know what I mean. You’ve been in the car for God only knows how many hours and you are done. It’s fun at first. You pop in your audiobook or plug in your ipod. There’s an energy you have when gearing up for that long drive ahead. You’re pumped to see your family/friends/scenic spot that has given the road trip its purpose. You’ve stopped to eat or stand as needed along the way. Then you’re in the final homestretch where you stop for nothing. Blood clots be damned, you will do whatever you have to do to not stop the vehicle until you’ve reached your final destination.
Me: Can you hold it for like an hour?
Clifford: Uh, no.
Me: Please? I beg of you…
Clifford: No. I seriously have to pee. I’ve had two red bulls and four cokes since our last stop. I have to go now.
I smiled and nodded. “Well that’s unfortunate because there won’t be any place to stop between here and there. Everything’s closed. You’re going to have to pull over on the side of the road.”
This is where Clifford looked at me like I’d grown three heads.
Clifford: There must be somewhere. A gas station. A fast food joint. Anything.
Me: No, I’m afraid not. Nothing is open this time of the night or rather this early in the morning, and if something was typically open, it will be closed for Christmas for sure, I promise you. Things always close for Christmas here.
He looked at me like I was making it all up. The funny thing is, Clifford had been to my house several times before. He knew the drive. He knew the stops, or lack thereof. I didn’t exactly understand what was so hard for him to believe.
Clifford: I can’t just pull over and pee on the side of the road.
Me: Uh, yes, you can.
Clifford: Seriously, I can’t.
Me: People do it all of the time and we haven’t passed another car since Noblesville, so yeah, I’m pretty sure this shouldn’t be a thing. Nobody is on the road right now. Just pull over.
Comprehension had finally dawned that if he had to go that badly, the side of the road was really his only option at that point in time.
Clifford: Well, where do I pull over?
Me: Anywhere.
He grew up in Africa for crying out loud. Why was this such a big deal?
Clifford: I need to at least pull onto a side road or something. I’m not just going to pee on the side of a state road.
Me: Then whatever, just turn onto a road, park the car and do what you’ve got to do.
Clifford saw a side road up ahead. There was a farmhouse on the corner and another house about a quarter of a mile up the road. Everything else was fields covered by snow.
Her turned down the old side road and just as I thought he was about to stop, he started to pull off the road completely, skipping the shoulder and driving directly onto the field.
Me: What are you doing?!!!
Clifford: Pulling over.
Me: Why are you in the field?!!
Clifford: It’s frozen and I didn’t want anyone to notice us parked on the road.
Me: Because a truck with its lights on in a random field on Christmas morning is much more inconspicuous…
He rolled his eyes and was about to get out of his Dodge Ram (with a hemi) when he realized he had another dilemma. We had left Atlanta with about 50 degree temperatures. We were now in Indiana where the truck was registering 18 degrees outside. Clifford only had on his Birkenstocks, sans socks, and no winter coat. Everything else was packed neatly away in the bed of his truck and rather unreachable.
He groaned as he opened the door. I felt the freezing cold air hit my face hard. I was thankful in that moment for my amazing bladder control as I was not envious of what he had to do.
I felt like he was Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own. It was the world’s longest pee as I sat there waiting for my husband to return and finally he did. He was shivering and talking about how cold it was outside. As he revved the engine and placed the truck in drive, ready to head home, the truck wouldn’t move. You could hear the tires spinning, but it wouldn’t move.
Clifford: What’s going on?
Insert A-ha moment here.
Me: The ground isn’t frozen. We’re stuck in the mud.
Clifford: No way. They’ve had snow up here for weeks.
Me: Doesn’t mean the ground is frozen.
We looked at each other. Now, given Clifford’s and my temperaments, this is normally where we play the blame game and argue rather heatedly about being in such a ridiculous predicament. We hadn’t slept in over 36 hours. We’d been on the road for ten hours straight. We both had on sandals and no winter coats. We were an hour away from home and we were literally stuck in the middle of nowhere in Indiana in 18 degrees, surrounded by snow and ice and no cell service (it was 2005) in the middle of a field…
We started laughing. This was pretty hilarious stuff.
Clifford devised the plan. He thought it was genius. I didn’t, but let’s go with genius for the moment. Clifford did have a shovel in the back of the truck. He would dig us out and we’d be fine. So, he exited the truck in his Birkenstocks, grabbed the shovel and went to the back of the truck to start digging through about six inches of snow and I have no idea how much mud. I was to slide over to the driver’s seat and try to move us forward when he gave me the okay.
He called to me and said I should be good. I hit the gas and all I heard was spinning. No dice. I could hear Clifford out in the cold, frustrated, teeth chattering, as he continued to dig. I sat in the toasty warm truck cab waiting for his directions.
After another ten to fifteen minutes, he told me to try again. Tires were still spinning. We were still stuck.
He came up to the driver’s side window and knocked. I jumped. Then I laughed when I looked at him. He was frozen from head to toe, but oh so cute with that shovel in his hand, trying desperately to save the day. I rolled the window down and he promptly explained to me that he was going to have to push the truck and I was going to have to hit the gas as hard as I could to get back up onto the road AND I was to keep going until I was on the road 100%.
The road was nothing but ice, which had me a little worried, but out of the field and onto ice seemed to have more potential in that moment.
I kept the window open so I could hear Clifford yell at me to go. I waited anxiously for my cue. Suddenly I heard it, “Go! Go! Go!”
So I floored it and suddenly the truck just took off toward the road. I was gunning that puppy so hard, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to control it once it hit the icy way. I did fish tail a bit, but we were gold! I looked in the rearview to smile at my newlywed husband who had become my hero, but he was nowhere to be seen. I began to panic a little. I should have been able to see him in the mirror. I slowed the truck to a stop, but in the center of the road so we couldn’t possibly get stuck again. I jumped out of the truck calling his name. Where was he? What happened?
Clifford was lying face first in the muddy snow. When he’d pushed the truck and I took off so suddenly, he lost his footing and planted his face deep in the snow.
I laughed. I laughed hard. Hysterically might even be the word to use here. I couldn’t not laugh. Here we were, somewhere near Wabash on an old country road, trenching a farmer’s field in 18 degree weather just so my husband could pee. As he got up from the ground, he was covered in mud and snow from head to toe. He looked at me, then at his clothes, and started laughing, too.
He couldn’t feel his feet or fingers pretty much the rest of the ride to my parents’ house. Whether it was the sleep deprivation or the absolute absurdity of the situation, we kept laughing for the remaining hour of our trip.
I would do that Christmas all over again. That moment was one of the best we have ever shared. I don’t have the words to ever do that scene in a random unfrozen but snow covered field justice. All I can say is that it was absolutely magical and it still makes me smile to this day.
Merry Christmas! I hope your holiday is as eventful as mine was nine years ago today.
