Ethan was still driving. We had just left Yellowstone and were driving
south, when he looked at me and said: “I want to go to the Grand Canyon”. We were in Wyoming when he said this. Now, I don’t know if you have ever looked at
a map of the United States, but the Grand Canyon is a far way away from
Yellowstone. Like really far. Like 850 miles far. I didn’t know what to say, but I knew I had
always wanted to see the Grand Canyon. It is the most iconic American landmark, and
everyone has to see it once. So why not
now?
“Alright, let’s go. But one rule, we put on show tunes.”
Ethan looked straight ahead, and
didn’t say no, so I was in the clear.
I’m going to be completely honest.
I maybe should have clarified this in the beginning of this blog, in
big, capital, bold letters, but then it would deter a big portion of the
readers (not that there are any now). I’ll come clean: I AM A MUSICAL THEATER
NERD. I have loved musicals ever since
I was in a baby group where I waddled around and cried to Mamma Mia. I have acted in and listened to shows since
then. It may be obvious, but show tunes are literally the perfect car
music. If you put on an entire show, you
are experiencing the show and can sing along.
It’s amazing. I had held in my
love for musicals the entire time, but after about a week on the road, I
couldn’t hold it in any longer.
We drove into Idaho, and for the
whole state listened to Hamilton. Now, I don’t know if you’re aware, but Hamilton is Hamilton. It’s an experience.
Even Ethan liked Hamilton, he never admitted it, but I could see it in his
eyes, he loved it. He definitely loved
it. At this point in the journey, I
started to feel an emotional connection to my car. It had definitely seen its better days. There were wrappers all over, old coffee
cups, and crumpled up bags. It was not a
pretty sight. Yet, I loved it, and it
was beautifully warn in. It was
home.
Soon, I put on Cats, and before long we had passed into Utah. It was at this point in the trip when we
pulled up to a motorcycle. On it was a
single Hispanic lady. Now it wouldn’t
have been that out of the ordinary aside from the fact that she was alone, was
a woman and was wearing a leather jacket that had the word “FLAM” on the
back. How weird. Anyways, it looked as if she didn’t even know
how to ride a motorcycle, so we steered clear of her. What a sight.
I just hoped nothing fell off the back off her motorcycle as left her in
the distance.
As Fiddler on the Roof came on, Ethan brought up something that
everyone needs to talk about every once in a while: regret. High School definitely has a lot of things
to regret. We regretted the stupid stuff
we did do, along with the stuff we didn’t do.
We regretted not taking advantage of childhood and having no
responsibilities. We also had more
common high school regrets: like wasting time with certain friends while not
spending enough with others, prom, and pretty much all of freshman year. Each of those opportunities allowed us to
laugh and realize what we had learned—which was absolutely nothing.
The road trip is freeing. You can talk about anything, primarily
because it’s especially hard to look each other in the eye. The driver especially shouldn’t take their
eyes off the road, and the other person is mostly just looking out the window. They can just say what’s on their mind, and
the other person is just there, silently taking it in. The truth always comes out on the road,
always. As we drove into Salt Lake City,
the sun was going down, the truth had come out and we decided to get a good
night’s rest. We had a big day tomorrow.
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