Trauma in Sedona Part VI--Detroit Airport 1996 Redux

We came upon a clearing and dug in to the rich offerings that were bursting the seams of my backpack. How much string cheese can one man enjoy? For my money, there is no limit to the pleasure one gets from ripping into a miniaturized tube of mozzarella and pulling long strands off like it was a maypole. As much as I was craving that homogenized goodness, I resisted the urge and allowed my ailing mother and children load up on the calcium-rich treats. Apparently, Joany was denied the delights of the juice box, and has not yet gotten over it, but the kids drank down their fruity beverages and the down time allowed Shari's heart to somehow overcome the near tragedies that we had all just experienced. She was still uttering nothing but monosyllabic words (mixed in with an occasional Savannah), but her vocabulary had reached at least 20 words at this point, and we all felt strongly that she was well on her way to a full recovery from witnessing her rat pack try to end their lives within seconds of one another.
We decided to follow the path in the opposite direction from our normal hikes and were happy to discover that the creek cut up that way as well. As an added bonus, there was still quite a bit of snow on the creek bed in this direction because it was not exposed to as much sunlight as we were along our usual walk. This of course did not change the fact that the floppy hat stayed firmly affixed on Gramma G's skull the entire time. The kids made a few snowballs, Abby wandered down to the white oddity and we found a place to walk back across the creek. Fortunately, at this "more travelled" part of the hike, there were enough rocks to keep our feet safely above the surface of the menacing creek. Joany and Gramma G utilized the walking sticks that they had acquired and were able to get to the other side without incident. We walked another couple of hundred yards and decided that it was probably as good a time as any to return from whence we came.
Lauren grabbed onto my throat for dear life and we trudged back along the sandy path over the creek, past the refueling area, through the ruins, over the spooky walking bridge and back to the still overcrowded parking lot. The dogs were fully leashed for the remainder of the journey and as we got back to the car, the need for nourishment came up again. Surprisingly the vast amounts of string cheese that were consumed by all in attendance did not have the desired effect and our hunger was far from placated. We decided that we would find some place to stop and would try to leave the dog and rats in the car while we dined. There is a first time for everything. We piled into the cars and with the Endeavor in tow, we headed out of the park back down the winding road. Within a couple of miles, we came upon a campground or motel or something of the sort and it appeared that they had a dining room with outdoor tables open. I pulled into the parking lot and Shari followed. She was still muttering, but she had gotten her senses back and was showing outward signs of rational thought. It had been at least 15 minutes since any of us had heard any of the classic nine as they came to be known (My, Oh, heart, Savannah, God, I, breathe, my, can't--I realize now that she was utilizing the "my" twice in her utterances, but at the emotional state she had fallen to, I gave her full credit for nine words--I'm pretty generous in such things), so we put the rats into the Caravan to enjoy a little quality time with Abby. We cracked a couple of windows, so that their howls, yips and barks could resonate throughout the canyon and be enjoyed by all.
We sat down on the patio and enjoyed a relatively stress-free lunch. It wasn't too bad considering it was some roadside dump. I think it was called Junipine or some facsimile thereof, and aside from a somewhat challenged server, we got about 45 minutes of freedom from the rats and they were either being a hell of a lot quieter than I would have given them credit, or they had fallen asleep. Either way, we were uninterrupted, fat and happy. It appeared that life was returning to normalcy. Gramma G and Joany wanted to stop by one of the Arizona cheeseball souvineer shops that dot the landscape. We passed the megaplex that is known as Tlaquepaque--there is one in Phoenix, so I didn't see the need to stop there, and we continued down the road until we came upon a souvineer shop that we could be proud of. Plenty of crap strewn about in every direction over about two acres. There was also an endless supply of cool items, and we had stopped here the last time in Sedona with Meemaw and Poppy Joe when we spent about six and a half hours going through every corner of both acres before settling on a Metallic Lizard and small bracelet. You try entertaining Lauren that entire time while not allowing her to touch any of the 4 billion trinkets and whatnots strewn about the place. Let me promise you that it is no picnic. There is only so much fascination one can derive from an old Army-issued combat helmet that has been adorned with scrap metal to create a turtle statuette--and they say that art is dead.
We pulled off the road behind the store and I quickly realized that we were going to get blocked in, so I pulled the Caravan forward and parked right outside the entrance. Shari parked the Endeavor where we had originally parked (about 30 yards back). I turned the engine off and Kim said that she and the kids were going to stay in the car. After my last experience trying my damndest to keep an eye on Lauren, I was in no mood to argue. I looked in the side mirror and caught some strange activity in the road which had brought traffic to an absolute standstill in both directions. Thank god we got here when we did. Nothing worse than being stuck in traffic.
"Kaaaaaaay-LEEEE! AAAAAAAAIIIIIGGGGGGH! STOP-STOP-STOP!!! EEEEEEEEEEEE!!
oh my God. Stop! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!! KAY-LEEEEE! AAAAAEEEEEEAAAAAIIIIIGGH!" I am quickly running out of letters here, but the noise that was coming from coincidentally about 30 yards back was piercing, frightening and insane. Running into and out of traffic was the rat--under tires, behind truck beds, through Shari's legs and under bumpers and trailer hitches. Confused, Frightened and flying about with the reckless abandon of a freshman from an all-girls Catholic College on her first Spring Break in Cancun, Kaylee had Shari running about like her body had been invaded (not by Poppy Joe this time) by a rabid seal in the unrelenting grips of an ether binge. It was unlike anything I had ever seen--I swear it. It was truly the most bizzarre display of human paranoia unleashed this side of Nurse Ratchett's most deeply disturbed subjects.
While a part of me wanted to help, I was paralyzed by a couple things. First, there was the real fear of actually being associated with this obvious psychopath. I didn't know any of these people, but when one of them called this one in, the authorities would certainly take everybody involved down to Belleview for a mild sedative and a chat with the boys. Secondly, there was an absolutely rational fear of being attacked by this lunatic as I approached, because she would have perceived me to be a threat to the rat. Rabid seals on ether binges are not exactly known for their predictability or ther rational thought. Thirdly, like the guys in the truck next to us who were laughing their asses off, it was one hell of a show, and I was not one to interrupt somebody else's fun. Being somewhat removed from the situation, what was the real danger once Shari had stopped traffic with the high pitched insanity? Kaylee was going to run at full speed into a parked hubcap? She might have been knocked silly, but there was no real danger. But even with the traffic halted 1/4 mile in each direction, Shari carried on like she had an entire Scorpion colony trapped in her miles of hair.
Kim prodded me on to help her. "Josh--help her!"
Still frozen with fear and amusement, I forced my legs to make their way back to Shari and the rat. She was still digging under the engine block of a Subaru for the little ball of fluff, but by the time I got to her, she had ripped the freak back out from under the Outback and was clutching her and babbling nonsensically.
"Oh my God--My Heart. I can't-I can't--my heart--I can't-- Oh My God"
Here we go again and this time she can't even say the word breathe. I walked over to her on the side of the road and told her to calm down that she was acting like a freak. In retrospect, this probably wasn't exactly the kind of empathy she was looking for in her moment of need. She was completely emotionally spent over the potential loss of both of her dogs over a two hour period. Realizing full well that she only had two dogs, but they had tried to kill themselves three times since Gramma G traversed the stunt log in what must have seemed like it was several years ago. They tempted fate enough in one afternoon that I wasn't sure she would ever make it back from the emotional abyss in which she found herself fully entrenched. And here I was mocking her just because her seal act was so convincing. Great, now I'm the bad guy--see how that works.
In the grand scheme of things, today was all about karma. You heard me right--karma. Nearly ten years ago, I experienced what can only be described as the kind of cruel torture best reserved for the finest Al-Quada operatives we can find. While travelling back from Dan's wedding in Scotland without his wife because of some sort of Visa problem, we had a three hour layover in Detriot's Airport after spending about 16 hours getting to that point. We decided to call Gramma and Grampa G to let them know that we had made it back to the states safely--you know, check in because they might be worried. They had been charged with the task of dogsitting Shari's first rat, Midori while we were away. After 16 hours of travelling, and with a three hour layover and a four hour flight still on the horizon, they decide that now would be an ideal time to mention to me that Midori had made her way out of the backyard and was no longer with us. I told them that there could not be a worse time to tell Shari this, but they felt like it would be better coming from me. I told them that there was no freaking way I was going to tell her--not today--not right now. They decided at that moment that they would have to tell her.
As I watched all of the color leave her face and witnessed the transformation in to blubbering hellchild, I knew that I would never forgive my parents. The next 10 hours of my life have to be among the worst I had ever experienced. Dan managed to get a seat 15 rows behind us, but the quiverring mess that was my sister was tethered to my side for every minute of that Northwest flight. She was heaped in a corner as I tried to get a hold of my future wife who had my car and was suddenly unable to meet us at the airport. In the shuttle ride to Kim's restaurant to retrieve my car, she sobbed uncontrollably. And on that 90 minute drive up to Ma's house in Ocala, she wept, sighed softly, bawled and muttered. On one side, I've got my best friend having to leave his wife of 10 days for the next six months because of a silly form being filled out improperly, and just behind me in the back, I've got my sister visiting the depths of despair that I didn't know could exist over a two pound ferret. There was no escaping it and my parents should have been forced to endure just one iota of that 26 hours of pure hell.
On this day on a 90 minute drive home from Sedona, Gramma G got her thimble full of my own personal torture chamber. Somewhere out there, Dan is smiling and I now know that Grampa G will get his too. Joany didn't really deserve that drive home from Sedona with whatever was left of Shari's psyche, but she chose to hang out with somebody who had this Karma attack coming, and she should have realized the risk going in. Shari's karma comes from the fact that she brought the rats in the first place--I tried to discourage her, I tried to dissuade her, I tried to flat-out tell her that it was a bad idea to bring rats to Sedona. She chose to ignore that advice and the near death on three occasions of one of the members of the rat brigade was her penance. Looking back, I'm kind of glad she brought them. Rarely has an outing to Sedona brought so much entertainment value to our family. Besides, the rats had so much fun.
So what did we learn? First and foremost, we learned that Rats have no business anywhere near Sedona, creeks, rocks, water, traffic or among decent society. Second, we learned that getting started on a posting like this one should never happen again--Six freaking parts--Is anybody out there actually still reading this crap? Third, never post any topic about dogs again--I think I have six out of the last seven postings with a picture of a dog. People are going to start to think this is a PETA friendly site (which it is not--you PETA freaks, stay the hell away--I am testing every chemical in my house in bunnies eyes right now). Fourth, Shari needs to get bigger dogs, period. And finally fifth, it is better to leave any and all family members at home when we go to Sedona. We bring Meemaw and she tries to drown our daughter (or at least crack her skull open on a rock); we bring Kim's Dad and Carol up and those poor saps end up getting married; Khris and Christy endured the same tragic fate; and now when we bring Shari, Joany and Gramma G, I end up with that goofy-assed picture on my blog. Life has a sick twisted sense of humor.