- 6:15 am and still pitch black outside, when driving your daughter to the school where she student teaches (because her car’s getting a brake job), in a part of town you’ve never been to before, in an area for which the term “sketchy” would be a gross understatement. Especially when you have to find your way back home, still in the pitch dark, with no calm and comforting Google Maps woman telling you the way.
- 5:00 pm rush hour, when you enter the highway to immediately discover that cars are lined up for miles and not moving, thus morphing a 15-minute drive to a 35-minute drive, but you can’t call your daughter to tell her you’ll be delayed. And then again when everything in the sketchy neighborhood looks different (and not necessarily better) in the daylight and you make a wrong turn. And then again when you pull up in the teacher parking lot but can’t call to tell you’re daughter you’re there. And then again when you go to the front of the school to find a staff person who can direct you to her (but – SURPRISE – school personnel do not stick around until 5:30 on a Friday). And then again when a kind student points you to a house phone so you can call your daughter, but you have no idea what your daughter’s phone number is because it’s stored in “favorites” and you never dial it. And then one last time when you try calling a family member so they can share the secret of the daughter’s phone number, but the only one you have memorized is your husband’s, and he doesn’t pick up.
Anybody know a good surgeon?