Midriff Muse

Landing in Phoenix was one thing, we still had a couple of hours of “gettin to Sedona to do.” You will remember, if you read the first piece in this series, that back in Milwaukee, we had chided my brother Joe, for putting a kink in the general plans for streamlined travel by electing to check his bag. He put up with it, turning his head ever so slightly away from us so that none of us would see that shit-eating grin that says: “you little people go ahead and have your fun, I got some bigger fish to fry.”

Now this writer hesitates sometimes to attempt a description that aptly conveys the mannerisms and affects of a person so colorful as her brother Joe and the woman (Cheryl) who alternately keeps pace with him or passes him by. The fear for this writer is that she might fall short and be inadequate in her description or, worse yet, that in some way that she might give offense. A leap of faith is required. This writer is jumping.

My brother Joe is someone I would describe as a very basic and keep-it-simple kind of guy, who knows how to enjoy himself and others. He has been very successful in his work. He is blessed with a boatload of street smarts and common sense. He has a terrific work ethic and a gift for humorous storytelling. He could certainly afford to wear designer labels if he chose, but he is more happy finding a good buy on an insulated Carhart jumpsuit at Farm and Fleet for winter sports than he is interested in any high-tech logo gear. His wife, Cheryl, is on similar wavelengths as he in many areas. They are naturally good-looking, active and fit, and competitive as hell. The two of them like to get to where they are going and to doing what they are going to do.

Once we landed in Phoenix, Joe and Cheryl were off the plane and through the airport like a shot, picking up Joe’s checked bag and moving on to the car rental satellite building before the rest of us had even realized they were gone. My brother, Jay had hitched his star to their wagon, leaving only our poor nephew, Josh and our dear brother-in-law, John, as the only males to stand by and receive the handing off of the stuffs of seven women as we hob-nobbled along with potty stops and the various machinations of retrieving needed articles from purses for whatever reasons we do at different times.

When we of the hob-nobbling group finally arrived by shuttle bus at the car rental satellite to transact the next phase of our travel, Joe and Cheryl were already finalizing their paperwork, with Jay (seen here in the photo taken on the plane in what the photographer assumed was a pensive moment when in fact he was really plotting to ditch us at the airport) standing by looking at us like what in the hell has been keeping you guys. We watched them move on to the final phase of the vehicle checkout while we got in line. Peggy and John, and my Mother (hereafter referred to as Buscha) and I were sharing a car. Joe and Cheryl, as has already been noted, were renting their own vehicle, and my sister Linda, with her 3 kids and my nephew’s girlfriend in tow, was renting yet another separate vehicle. The loosely understood plan was to caravan for the 2 hour drive to Sedona. With paperwork completed and before we headed to the garage to do a vehicle check over with another agent, some one or two of us (probably me and Buscha as the senior ladies in the group) decided that one more potty stop in yet a different building of the airport complex would be prudent.

When we were finally working on signing off the vehicle checklist that is designed to make sure that you and the car rental company are in complete agreement and seeing eye to eye on the exact nature of every ding, discoloration and dysfunction of the vehicle before receiving the keys to drive it away; Joe and Cheryl pulled up in their vehicle long enough to hand off the portable GPS Joe had brought with him and was not going to need since their car was already equipped with a GPS. That being accomplished, and with Jay comfortably sprawled in the back seat, they “gidde-upped” on out of there.

Now we had to wait for Linda and family to complete their own vehicle check out, because, as I said, we had a caravan on the agenda. Clearly, Joe and Cheryl, had chosen to ignore that memo. While we waited, I was given the task of programming the destination house address in the GPS because everyone in the car assumes that I am some sort of technical wizard, being mildly adept in the use of Microsoft Office Word and Excel and having had some experience with the use of the factory installed GPS system in my husband’s Pacifica. As it turns out, I was a complete newbie with Joe’s Nuvi and it got very argumentative with me! Everytime I tried to enter Lolomi Drive, which was the address of the house where we would be staying, it wouldn’t let me get past the second L without defaulting to some Lolalinda street in Illinois. No amount of persistence would change its mind. Finally we phoned Joe, who was by now well down the highway.

Joe: Did you change the state?

Me: No. It never gave me a chance to do that.

Joe: On the very first screen there’s a place to change the state.

Me: I didn’t see that.

Joe: Just look on the first screen, there’s a place to change the state.

Me: I’m not seeing it anywhere.

Joe: Are you on the very first screen?

Me: Yes.

Joe: There’s a place to change the state on there somewhere. I do it all the time.

He was sounding impatient, so even though I was not seeing any icon to change the state, I said “okay, thanks” and got off the phone.

I am a very literal person. When there is an icon that says “Change Country” and the country is already defaulted to the United States, I see no reason to select it. Turns out that you need to select the “Change Country” icon and reassure it that you are, in fact, in the United States, and then it will give you the opportunity to select a new state. Once I was able to convince it that we were in Arizona, not Illinois (frankly I had a hard time believing it myself – it all happened so fast) then the Nuvi backed off long enough for me to enter the whole Lolomi before it interrupted and added the word Drive on its own. I never was good in those relationships where the other person finishes your sentences for you.

I finished getting things squared away with Nuvi about the same time that Linda’s vehicle appeared behind us and we proceeded out of the rental car satellite and to the highlighted route under Nuvi’s guidance. After a few missed cues, during which Nuvi patiently corrected us, we were, in fact, en route to our destination.

Prior to leaving Wisconsin, some amongst had received word from people who actually live in Phoenix that there was heavy duty ticketing for speeding going on and the advisement was to diligently guard our speed and consistently keep it at the speed limit. With our Cruise Control set firmly at 65mph, we were about halfway out of the city when Peggy got a call from the Joe/Cheryl/Jay vehicle, which was by now out of the city and on the open desert highway. Buscha and I, seated in back, remained somewhat oblivious to the cell conversation happening up front. When Peggy hung up, she turned to us to give a report.

She said: “You gotta love Cheryl. I asked her if they were seeing any squad cars or speed traps and she says: ‘No. If you keep it between about 75 and 85 you should be just fine.’ Yah think there’s any reason she and Joe get so many speeding tickets?”

Pictured above are Joe and Cheryl at a restuarant our first night in Sedona, at this point still blissfully unaware that their speeding was being tracked by air and they would accordingly receive a ticket in the mail back at home.

And lastly, here is my brother-in-law, John and my nephew, Josh, fully recovered and then some from the task of having shepherded seven females through the Phoenix airport.

October 24th, 2009 | Tags: car rental, GPS systems, midlife humor, Midlife Musings, Nuvi, Phoenix airport, Sedona AZ, sister's wedding, Travel, travel with adult siblings | Category: Family, Sedona Series, Travel | Subscribe to comments | Leave a comment | Trackback URL