By Mordechai Schmutter

The following is a list of thoughts that went through my head on the way to and from my brother’s wedding. He had the chutzpah to get married in Toronto, just because, quote, “That’s where my kallah lives.” Ugh. Other people’s shalom bayis compromises are so inconvenient. I guess it’s our fault, really. Every speaker at the aufruf said, “Give in to your kallah, she’s always right.” We barely even know her! What if she’s not always right?

I think I need another Big Gulp.

  • OK, so it’s an 8—9 hour trip, and my back doctor generally recommends that I get up and walk around every half-hour. How do I type that into the GPS?
  • Yes, kids, that sign means “No talking in the car.”
  • We’ve finally found that perfect air-conditioning temperature where I’m hot and my wife’s cold.
  • The only difference is that when she’s cold, she has to put on her sweatshirt. When I’m hot, I go to sleep.
  • So does this CD have any words? Or is the whole thing intros?
  • My wife and I are supposed to switch off the driving, but she hasn’t given me a turn yet. Apparently, my longer arms are “better for passing things back.”
  • I don’t know what’s worse–having to keep passing food back to the kids, or having them keep handing me their garbage. We should get a bag back there too. We should have places to put garbage all over the car.
  • Wait. We kind of do.
  • I think, by my calculations, they’re handing me about 40% of their garbage. How do they decide what’s worth bothering me to throw out and what to make me clean up later?
  • Hm. I know I grew up here, but do the people in New York know about all the empty space in upstate New York? There’s nothing up here. Everyone’s crowded in one corner at the bottom of the state, stacked on top of each other, like we need to stay as far away from Canada as possible.
  • Seriously. There aren’t even horsies up here.
  • Goshen! They can’t live in Goshen?
  • There’s almost no one on these roads, and no one is here without a good reason. Is everyone on this road going to the chasunah?
  • I brought cream cheese, but no knives.
  • And no plates. I guess I have to put one slice of bread on each leg.
  • Why on earth did the kids bring a game with dice?
  • Why is the entire I-90 littered with tiny pieces of tire? How bad is this road? Should we be driving on the grass?
  • There’s also a town named Canaan.
  • Boy, my wife sure knows a lot of alphabet games.
  • I don’t know why we have to use two GPS devices the whole way there. Either they’re agreeing the whole time, or we’re listening to them argue and talk over each other. It’s uncomfortable when they argue in front of us. One’s like, “Go this way,” and the other says, “No, go that way. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” “Well, we wouldn’t be lost if you’d pull over and ask directions.” “No, we wouldn’t be lost if you’d be quiet for two seconds so I could concentrate.” “That’s it. I’m recalculating.” “Oh, typical.” Meanwhile we’re sitting there all awkwardly, we don’t know what to do, and we’re waiting for the argument to be over so we could get on with our trip.
  • Boy, there sure are a lot of trucks going to this chasunah.
  • I live in New Jersey. I don’t remember how to pump my own gas. It’s 12 o’clock at night! I can’t believe we have to pump our own gas, like the lower classes!
  • So to get through the border to Canada at 12:30 at night, we had no cars in front of us and only one little old lady in the booth. A little old lady: Canada’s first line of defense.
  • That’s it? We spent almost $1,000 on passports so one little old lady could look at them for five seconds and wave us through?
  • Actually, yes we did. If we’d just shown up at the border with a wedding invitation, it probably would have taken longer.
  • So we’re in Canada, and the signs say we could go at a speed of 100. Awesome!
  • How big are kilometers, anyway?
  • Are we driving on the correct side of the road? I guess we’ll find out.
  • We asked our kids what they think of Canada so far. We’ve been here for five minutes. “Canada’s dark,” one kid says.
  • So the entire 2-hour drive once we get to Canada is us driving around a lake? How big is this lake?
  • Oh. Great.
  • The kids are asleep. We don’t stop for anything now. It doesn’t matter if all four tires fall off–we’re not stopping.
  • Ugh. This better be a good wedding. I don’t care if they don’t serve fancy local foods–I’m not too good for chicken. But someone should tell caterers that there are ways to make chicken taste good. It doesn’t have to be dryer than the stuffing.
  • What’s up with stuffing, anyway? Were the carbs so bad that people weren’t eating them unless the caterer hid them in the chicken? Or is this what the chicken was eating when it died?
  • Okay, back in the car. That was some wedding! Didn’t see a single trucker, though.
  • Not a single person in Toronto had any sympathy for how far we had to drive. Not a single person. All we heard was things like, “I don’t understand why you don’t go to Lakewood more. It’s only an hour-and-a-half from you!”
  • One awesome thing about Canada is that after you find out the price of something, you get another moment of elation when you find out it’s cheaper in American dollars. It’s like finding money under the seats.
  • Wow, gas is a good price here! $1.17! Canadian!
  • Wait. That’s for a liter. I don’t even know how to do the conversion, then. That’s two steps. I can’t do that kind of math. I’m American.
  • Who buys a liter of gas? “Yup, that’s enough for me. Don’t want to splurge.” Canada is mostly wide open spaces.
  • Canada’s also cold. Today it’s 95° in New Jersey, but 85° in Canada. We didn’t even think to bring coats.
  • Alphabet games are easier in Canada. Half the letters we normally get stuck on (J, X) are common in French, and as far as Q and W, we’re on the QEW.
  • What letter is zed? And how do they rhyme their ABC song over here? Do they just put the alphabet in a different order?
  • Okay, so apparently the term zed is older, and America probably changed it for the sake of the rhyme. Such as it is. Yes, our whole song rhymes, but we really have to squeeze a ton of letters into that second line to make it work. “Aitch, eye, jay, kay, elemenopea.”
  • The worst thing about elemenopea is that I have to sing the whole song every time to figure out which of those letters comes before the others.
  • The line to get back into the U.S. is considerably longer than the line was to get into Canada. I think Canadian security is more lax. They’re just looking for warm bodies. It’s 85 degrees over there.
  • The guy at border control wants to know if we’re bringing any citrus fruits down from Canada. Yeah, that’s why we went north. For citrus fruits.
  • Travel tip: Decide before you get to the border who’s gonna do the talking. If they ask a question and you and your spouse spout different answers, things take longer.
  • So it turns out that driving long distances is not good for one’s diet. Especially if your destination is a chasunah. And it doesn’t help that every restroom we pass has a candy store.
  • There’s also a town called Medina.
  • Every time I open the door, water bottles fall out.
  • “Hey, everybody! Look at the view!”
  • “No, the view on the right. The left side is solid rock.”
  • Is anybody in this car wearing shoes?
  • We need to change the garbage bag in here. There’s only so many times I can keep shoving it down with my bare foot.
  • We’re stopping again? We just stopped seven-hundred hot tamales ago.
  • Okay, bathroom stop. Everyone put on your shoes. Please.
  • My son just said he saw a biker proposing to a girl on the side of the highway. Either that, or after 300 miles on the same road, he had to pull over and stretch his legs, and he couldn’t even stand.
  • After the first 18 times, this CD starts growing on you.
  • “Deer crossing–next 2 miles.” What happens in 2 miles? Do they get official crosswalks?
  • Alright, we’re home! Time to air out the car. We have to drive to sheva berachos tomorrow.

So anyway, I’d like to wish a mazal tov to my brother and his wife. And to Mr. and Mrs. Motorcycle Guy. v

Mordechai Schmutter is a weekly humor columnist for Hamodia and is the author of five books, published by Israel Book Shop. He also does freelance writing for hire. You can send any questions, comments, or ideas to MSchmutter@gmail.com.

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