Bums, Bumps, and Blasts

Warning: The following story has extreme sarcasm and may not be suitable for young readers.

Todd is in Switzerland at the Eurasia Regional Office. He left yesterday and I took him to the airport. Now, I'm comfortable driving on one road here in Johannesburg. It's a long road, but still, that's about all I know. Anything else is totally out of my realm of knowledge. That, mixed with the fact that this would be my second time driving from the airport (the first time was Monday- don't remember much since since it was so early in the morning), I was slightly nervous about getting back in one piece. Since the highways around here resemble the 405 or the 210 in LA on Friday during rush hour, we left early, so that I could avoid 'rush hour' here (it starts at 4!). Todd was dropped off by 2:45 and I was beginning to feel fairly confident that I could actually pull this off. The only thing I forgot was that, while I loved playing sports growing up, there are some hold-over side effects that I don't love. One, being the fact that at least once a year I bruise my tailbone. It happened when Em was born, and I must have done something in the last few days to do it again. So, driving where I don't know where I'm going, no GPS or Todd to call if I get lost (and I forgot my cell phone- yikes!), and a bum bum... I get behind the drivers seat. My bum immediately started hurting since I was stuck in one position because of the clutch, and then, we hit the first of (no exaggeration here people) 20 speed bumps... and they weren't even the SAME! Some were huge and others were spiky. It was... painful to say the least, but I figured I'd be home in half an hour, so it would be okay. Then, traffic stopped. I don't mean we were all sitting there idling waiting for some stalled car to pull to the side. Engines were off, people walking down the middle of the freeway stopped. Em had a wonderful conversation with the guy in the small truck next to her, which was nice because it kept her busy. See, I didn't plan on being gone too long, so I didn't bring toys. Cars started moving again, so I figured there was an accident and we were free. NO. Just as I was getting into second gear, two things happened: first, we stopped again and second, I past a sign that read "Blasting 6 May at 1500"... One blast, okay, my bum could handle this, and we'd get home soon. Two hours later, and no less than half a dozen blasts later, we pulled off the freeway onto the road I knew. We were still about 20 minutes from home, but it didn't matter, I was so happy that I could see the end in sight, my bum would be able to get some Tylenol soon, and I didn't have to drive along that freeway or deal with blasting again... or until Monday. So, the moral of the story, don't drive your husband to the airport with a bum bum when you have to go over speed bumps, or when there's blasting... and definately not when you have to deal with all three at the same time!