I knew my parents were regressing from Baby Boomers to Millennials. First it was all the acquisition of Apple technology, then came texting in church, but now they've just gone nuts and decided to pull the ultimate Young Man's Game: they drove the Alaska-Canada highway (or ALCAN) nonstop in 56 hours like a pair of college students. Maybe they drank Red Bull to keep themselves awake, I didn't even want to ask.
It's not that they were bored and just wanted to do something different over the weekend. It was because Spitfire offered to buy their car. They decided on Thursday night to leave the next morning, drive to Utah, spend about 18 hours with us, and then fly back to Alaska. Dad hadn't seen Spitfire in two years & Mom hadn't seen her in eighteen months, so I think that may have fueled their decision a little bit.
It was a good thing we were all praying for them to make it here safely, because it snowed through the whole of Canada. My dad says that between the snow, the 18-degree temperatures, the closed gas stations, and my mom dozing off at the wheel (which meant my dad never slept), there must have been many, many angels looking out for them. Go angels! Mom says it's kind of surreal to think that she really could just get in the car and drive to her grandchildren when she wants to see them, but I'm guessing this is an experience they won't be repeating for the rest of ever.
It was much too short of a visit, but we made the most of it. Jenny had Dad's favorite chocolate chip cookies (and, most importantly, showers and beds) waiting for them. They brought us Canadian chocolate bars, and we all got together at Jen's for a big breakfast. Jen's kids and the Tiny Dark Lord ran all over the place, hopped up on bacon and superior chocolate, screeching and whooping. Am guessing this was a taste of the wild rumpus that will be Christmas.
I got to show Dad my beautiful farmhouse, which led to this conversation later with GH:
GH: Did you give your parents a tour of our house today?
Me: Just my dad, but yeah.
GH: So that's why our bedroom is sort of clean.
Spitfire and I drove Mom and Dad down to Salt Lake, where we met up with Coolboy at Tony Caputos for lunch. My mom loved that place, of course. It's due to her genes that my siblings and I think awesome food/kitchen stores are the equivalent of Disneyland.
|Note: it was windy. I didn't just watch Rock of Ages |
and start doing my hair like that or anything.
And then we dropped them off at the airport, leaving them in the clutches of that most evil of airlines, US Airways. Does anybody else hate them and, subsequently, Phoenix, or is that just me and my parents? I guess they got them home okay this time, but still.