Muddy Boots-

So, I got new “rain boots” for Christmas, which I never intended to really use for that purpose especially with the unseasonably warm winter we’ve been having here in south Texas. They’re cute and red. Kyle on the other hand got Jordans. Little did I know just how much they’d come in handy. We took a trip to Austin with my mom and brother, had a picnic lunch inside our car because we didn’t feel the need to lose fingers and toes while eating our roast beef sandwiches, toured the capital building and did everything we possibly could fit into the little time we had. Which included a little out of the way drive to the self proclaimed “best bbq in Texas”, Salt Lick. By the time we were done eating it had started hailing and pouring rain. I was thrilled to have this experience to splash my victims- I mean family with muddy tin roof recycled rain water. Salt Lick is in a very small town and obviously the main attraction. Only a couple roads in and out. We started down the interstate with the quickest route home only to be stuck in a double yellow one lane each way traffic at a stand still. This is when I start to think I should’ve splashed my family less and prioritized going to the bathroom before getting in the car for the long car ride more. Thankfully, my little brother has an equal amount of common sense as me so I wasn’t the only one bitching about needing to urinate. We have been in the parked position for at least thirty minutes when I’m guessing the insistent complaining got to my family and I was told to squat in front of the car, which I did not. Obviously, the car in front of us could have a back up camera and I wasn’t about to give a show for free (or at all). My next best option was to go in the bushes on the side of the road, because the car was not about to start moving. But seeing as the houses out here in the middle of nowhere were huge and somewhat close to the road that didn’t seem pheesable either. When suggested, I reiderated that with my luck I would get in the bushes just to be attacked by a guard dog and people who don’t call 911. I would of course then come running back to our car with my pants around my ankles begging to be spared from the five pound chihuahua “guard dog” that would be attached to my rain boot. No, I think I rather wait. My brother suggested we bill the cops who we had no idea what was going on with, the emergency room bill for our exploded bladders in the event that the car never move again. FINALLY. The cars start moving again. One lanes blocked off for what looks like an awful accident they take turns letting lanes go. We get past the wreck, which made our bladders feel like less of a problem, to only get a mile before we see more cops on the other side of a Mother Nature arranged river that is going right through our number one way home. Evidently there was a miscommunication or no communication between the cops and we should’ve turned around instead of waiting that whole time (yay). We turn around just to wait again because like I said, only one lane gets to go at a time. Still having to pee we make it back to the restaurant and reevaluate our new way home, better yet Kyle figures that out while I book it to the port a potty. 

When I get back to the car he had a new route figured out (which is usually my job as shot gun) and we start driving again, this time in the opposite and more time consuming direction. It isn’t long before my premise of Kyle being geographically uninclined is brought full circle. He blames the GPS. Which of course is a crowd pleaser (because all our disagreements are on a world debate platform, tune in on Tuesdays 7/8C). 

“People have a deep mistrust of machinery. Have you seen Terminator? Or 2? Or 3”-Nick on The Internship

So, the gps says, “turn right” doesn’t say when or where to turn but Kyle took that as “now!” And before we know it we are on a “dirt road” which the rain has made into more of a mud road. I’m sure you can see where this is leading. All the sudden the tires are spinning. We are stuck. I was previously on my phone and looked up and around only to determine immediately, from the back seat I may add, that we were in fact not on a dirt road at all but in the literal backyard of a CVS pharmacy. We were so close to that back parking lot, but the rain had caused all the dirt to travel downhill making a mountain of mud against the perfectly square curb to which our tire was wedged behind. I, almost instinctually, looked up at my mom and said “let’s push.” Keeping in mind I have NEVER done this before. I get out of the car. Hesitantly, my brother and mom follow me. The mud is above my ankles so my family who has worn less sensible shoes take the outter edges of the car. Kyle who wore his brand new Jordan’s gets to stay as driver in the warm, clean car. I’m not really complaining though because I’ve always loved to play in the dirt or mud rather. So, we are pushing down and foreword because the front tire is wedged down and Kyle is trying his best to listen to what we are saying. 

“Neutral”

“Reverse, but only for a second”

“Drive”

And repeat. 

Me, being the least supportive (CVS’ backyard? Really?) and most glass half full kinda person I am histarically laughing. My mom and brother are used to being with my dad, who would not find the humor in this, so they are just looking strangely at me. I have lived with Kyle long enough (for those who don’t know him- Kyle is extremely easygoing) to see the humor in everything. This wasn’t the end of the world, all else fails Kyle would come push in his bare feet as far as I was concerned. I finally gathered myself up, because I was laughing while we were pushing, and we all gave another more serious push and finally we got back to dryer land. Nearly falling on our faces in the final push, we all had a good chance to laugh. As payment for doing the dirty, yet fun, work Kyle was sweet enough to carry me back to my seat after I ditched my clumpy muddy boots in the trunk. 

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