Lacrosse season is almost
over, and the team has one more major road trip and one more minor one before
the season ends at home this Saturday. The
major road trip requires a four-plus-hour drive to Long Island and a
stay-over. Because I have to work a full
day, I know it will be murder through rush-hour traffic between Worcester,
Hartford, and everyone trying to get into NYC.
My daughter decides a road
trip with Mom must certainly be the way to get into Heaven because the good
Lord knows that anyone brave enough to spend time with me (and who lives to
speak about it) certainly must be doing some heavy-duty penance. We try every way the various GPS systems tell
us to go, but we hit traffic every turn we take. There are times that I don’t even know where
the hell we are anymore.
ME: I wish we had
some maps with us.
DAUGHTER: We have two
GPS’s going, the WAZE app, and you printed out the directions from Mapquest.
ME: True, but I
like to know exactly where I am. I wish
we had some maps with us.
It goes like this for a
long time, and my daughter is remarkably patient, even when the only pit stop
that is open is a tiny roadside rest area with a line for the bathroom that
stretches nearly into the next state.
We learn a couple of
things along the way, though. For
example, Throgs Neck Bridge is amazing, especially the crazy turn at the north
end, but at night when it’s all lit up – Spectacular. We also learn that a highway exit on Long
Island is only an exit in a grammatical capacity. In reality, it is simply a way for the state
of New York to puke you onto another highway, and then another, and then
another. We don’t actually exit the
highway-after-highway roadway system until we pull onto the side street where
the hotel is located (at a dead end).
The hotel is beautiful,
which it should be for the nightly rate it charges, and we manage to get a
front-row parking space. We immediately
hear banging on the windows from inside the building and realize our welcoming
committee has spotted us, even at this semi-late hour. A quick check-in at the front desk puts us
smack in between our pals and right at the heart of the partying. A little Milagro tequila later, I am ready to
be rolled into bed and prepped for the hangover that is sure to follow, which
it does.
In the morning, I battle
the crappy stomach I’ve had since the day before that is now complicated by the
residual alcohol infusion. The wonderful
complimentary breakfast for me becomes part of a banana and a few sips of
Constant Comment tea. I add some apple
juice to the mix later. Okay, I steal a
bit of my daughter’s waffle, but no way could I eat one myself.
By 9:00, I am ready to
venture away from the bathroom, so we pack up our belongings, not nearly
getting our money’s worth out of our brief stay, and venture out, vowing to
meet our friends at the college in a few hours.
My daughter and I navigate to a nearby Starbucks to get some real coffee
(for her).
It’s time to do some
exploring.
We set the GPS for the
Cradle of Aviation Air and Space Museum on Charles Lindbergh Boulevard. Instead, we are directed to the Long Island
Children’s Museum. That would be a huge “no,”
and, with a hangover, it would probably be a suicide mission with me jumping out
a roof-top fire door. A few adjustments
to the electronics and we are on our way again.
Apparently, we are a quarter of a mile off target.
Remember what I said about
highways? Yup, we are stuck on an
intricate web of interconnected one-way highways. Even though we could spit on the Air and
Space Museum from the Children’s Museum, we have to go around the entire block
yet again. It’s actually kind of fun because
we get to pass Nassau Coliseum, home of the New York Islanders, about fifteen
times. By now, we know the neighborhood
better than the people who live here.
We are the second group of people to arrive at
the Cradle of Aviation Air and Space Museum, following a man and his very young
son, and are approaching the front of the building as the workers unlock the
front door. We pay for our tickets,
attempt to ask a few questions, and are essentially shut down by the curt woman
handing out tickets. I mean, this is a museum, right? We are supposed
to be curious, right? Thankfully, the
other employees are helpful and pleasant.
Maybe our ticket lady had a bad night with Milagro tequila, as well.
The museum itself is
pretty darn cool. It houses planes and a
few cars and even a replica lunar module, and it covers aviation from Da Vinci’s
drawings to Kitty Hawk to the World Wars and right into space. There are interactive displays, mini movie
areas, and exhibit halls complete with sound effects. We learn all about the historical significance
of Long Island to aeronautics, a historical connection that I will openly admit
I knew absolutely nothing about until now.
We spend a couple of hours
in the museum, even waiting fifteen minutes to get onto the Blue Angels motion
ride that breaks before we get a chance to try it out. Probably this is a good thing considering that
my stomach is still iffy and by now I really have to pee.
Heading back out, we pass
the Nassau Coliseum one last time, and make a quick stop at Chipolte for
burritos. I make sure mine is full of
things that will sit well, avoiding guacamole, onions, peppers, hot sauce, and
any kind of beans. My daughter finds the
university with no problems, and we park near the recently vacated team bus. This is where the boys will gather after
their game, and it’s our best shot at spending extra quality time with her
brother before he and we get on the road for New England.
We have about forty-five
minutes to kill before the first face-off.
Thankfully, it is warm and sunny, with temperatures in the
mid-seventies. We roll down the windows,
turn on some music, charge up our cell phones, apply sunscreen, and munch on
our burritos. Okay, she munches, I pick
at mine because I am still feeling a bit peckish, and I don’t want to vomit in
my daughter’s new SUV on the way home.
Besides, I have to be on
my best behavior heading back. After
all, we may have two GPS systems, printed out directions, and Elvis on the
WAZE, but we still don’t have a map.
