There is nothing worse than knowing you are going to be late to something that you have known about for two months… unless you’re late because your car runs out of gas on the side of the highway on the way to the Polar Express steam train so your 20 month old can meet Santa.
First off… who the hell runs out of gas? Its 2015… why do we even have to use gas… RIDICULOUS! I’m an idiot… I’m an idiot I’m an idiot… nothing else can be said here except I’m an idiot. How does an educated human being let their car run out of gas… how does anything with a brain allow their car to run out of gas.
Let me set the scene: Ten adults and one 20 month old child flying down Rte 9 with little more than a few minutes to spare to change said 20 month old into his Christmas jammies for the train ride of a life time. Four different cars race to be the first to reach the Polar Express in which full size elves named Shumcky and Sniffles will serve sweets to an infant for over an hour.
Then there is the one guy who can pull this all together… the one guy who has enough holiday spirit to overcome angry adults, annoying elves, a train hotter than Hades’ butthole and a 20 month old all hopped up on hot chocolate and cookies.
Unfortunately that one guy was me and I was coasting on the shoulder of the highway inching closer to my metaphorical untimely death. It was over. I could see my life flash before my eyes. If it wasn’t the wife who would end life, it would be the guys who would relentlessly mock me to death for being he first person since that annoying dashboard gaslight was invented to ever actually run out of gas.
Sitting on the side of the road allowed me plenty of time to reflect on the error of my way. One that I hope my son will learn early on in life… You will never be right… Stop and get gas – Be late for the train= WRONG MOVE! Don’t stop for gas – Run out of gas= WRONG MOVE!
Stopping when I knew my gas tank was on empty would have probably solved all my issues here… But I digress.. All in all the kid had a great time and even got to tell Santa what he wanted for Christmas… A few gallons of gas for dad.