Today, St. Patrick's Day, marks the anniversary of an adventure for the ages. A quest, as it were, not for gold or treasure or to secure the defeat of an evil despot, but rather for new friends, beer and fun. While I was in law school, I met and hung out with a girl from Cleveland, named Abby. She was somewhat of a sponge, knowing that I was a guy who found her attractive, and in exchange for letting me hang out with her, I ferried her around, helped her move, etc. My mindset was, well, it was possible for her to be my girlfriend, if only she would come around. Well, it never happened. Some of my friends thought she was playing me for a fool, which I probably was, but, still, she was fun to hang out with and she was pretty.
I digress. As I said, she was from Cleveland and loved it. That city doesn't conjure up pleasant images for most folks, what with the "mistake by the Lake" and whatnot. Having spent time in two midwestern cities, Indianapolis and Chicago, and loved them, I really didn't have an opinion one way or another.
She spoke with reverence about the St. Patrick's day celebration in her hometown, mostly of the 87th? street pub crawl. At that time I was in my last semester of law school. I had zero chance of graduating in the top ten percent, had busted my ass for two and one-half years, and figured, I'd do something impulsive and adventurous. So, I mentioned the idea of us driving up to Cleveland for St. Patrick's day. Abby was one hundred percent for it.
We left on Friday, March 12 from New Orleans (where she lived). I had taken the ethics portion of the bar exam earlier that day, and due to excitement, plus information that this was an easy test, caused me to fail it miserably. I retook it that summer and passed.
The route was to take us I-59 north to Chattanooga, then I-75 north to Cincinnati, then I-71 to Cleveland. We left early Friday afternoon.
Sometime before we left Mississippi for Alabama, it began to snow. Hard. I had driven through many snows in Germany and thought if I just took it slow, it would be okay. As the snow piled up, I realized this was a snow for the ages in the South. It got colder and colder, and somewhere around the Brookwood exit just after Tuscaloosa, my Nissan Sentra slid off the road. We were stuck. It was snowing hard and cold. This was the days before cell phones, mind you, so we were SOL. The Brookwood exit was less than a mile ahead, and we decided that Abby would stay with the car while I went to the exit to get help. Before I set out, I pulled the boner of the trip. A couple of guys passed by in a 4-wheel-drive pickup. The driver yelled to me "need us to pull you out?" and I said "yes". He then said, we'll do it for $20. A voice I did not recognize, and if I did recognize it today, I would surely gut it like a deer someone shot, said "That's okay." The driver shrugged and moved on. Yay for me. The world is not without balance, however. In a stroke of genius, I threw my heavy duty, insulated, waterproof U.S. Army issue combat boots in the trunk. Had I not, my feet might have seriously been frostbitten. Instead, my feet stayed warm and dry.
I made it to the Shell station a the Brookwood exit, and after small talk, called a tow truck, which, by some miracle, was still running. Back at the car, I discovered that Abby was missing. Whether she struck out on her own, or was kidnapped, or dead, I didn't know. The truck came, and took my car back to a motel in Tuscaloosa. The people there were kind enough to give me a place to lay down, while I made phone calls to Abby's parents to see if she checked in. She did, and I found out she was at a rest stop down the interstate. Oh, and I locked my keys inside my car. Not thinking about locksmiths, I broke the window to get the keys. Well, we couldn't make the rest of the trip in a car with a broken window, so a quick side trip to the airport to rent a car was in order. I rented the largest car they had, a Buick Regal, and parked my car there. There remained one final problem. The police closed the interstate. I couldn't get to Abby. Looking at the map, I figured the police couldn't be present at every on ramp, and a quick check verified that. All that remained was for me to move the barracades, and I was on my way to Cleveland. I picked up Abby and we slowly made our way north.
It snowed hard the rest of the way. Other than fighting sleep, we made the rest of the trip without incident. We arrived at Abby's parent's house Sunday morning. We both slept until Monday morning.
I met Abby's friends, William Bell (not related) and his little brother (whose name I cannot remember) and Matt, her friend who she had a tremendous crush on. They must have found me somewhat cool, because we hung out every night that week. We went downtown to The Flats, they took me to a private rave-type party, and some club later in the week to see a band. There was, of course, the reason for the trip - the pub crawl on Wednesday (St. Patrick's) night. I don't remember much, but the snippits I remember were fun. One other amusing thing was that Abby wasn't pleased with me, because Matt hung out with me most of the time, and told me in pretty clear language that he likes Abby as a friend, but doesn't want to be a couple. He was also a big Doors and Jim Morrisson fan.
These were really nice guys, and for having only met them that week, I owe them one. The night we went to see the band, I was pretty drunk. So drunk, in fact, that I needed to lie down, and it appeared the only place for that was the back seat of the Regal. Here they are, three people I just met, and got me settled in - one of them found a blanket and covered me with it. Oh, did I mention it was about zero degrees? Well, I got back to Abby's parents house and slept it off.
Of course, during this week that I was gone from Baton Rouge, we had classes at law school. Like I said, this was my last semester, and I really didn't care. I did call my professors and claimed car trouble when I went out of town the last weekend. Car in the garage and all that. I had no misconceptions. This pretty much shot any chance I had of making good grades. I just wanted to pass. To my credit, I did bring my books and outlines and most every afternoon that week, I went to the library and studied.
We left on Saturday for Baton Rouge, The return trip was without incident. My car was still at Tuscaloosa. We turned in the rental, patched up the broken window, and I dropped Abby of at New Orleans. It was Sunday morning, and I went back to Baton Rouge and slept.
I don't know if I will ever have a spur-of-the-moment adventure like that ever again, but I'm glad I did it. I did pass, with pretty much straight Cs across the board. It was worth it, and although I haven't heard from Abby in a while, I do thank her for a good time and a good road trip friend.
