Three years ago, on this exact Saturday, I had an all-day field trip to Lone Oak, Texas. It was a lucrative one - picked up the group at 6 AM and wouldn't return until 8 PM or so. I got them there okay but there was a problem. I had been assigned a newer school bus, a strange, unfamiliar beast...and I couldn't get the heater that keeps the driver warm to work. The passengers were toasty but I was a shivering idiot by the time we arrived.
Short story long, I felt the first pangs of illness around noon, and by sunset, I was a mess: feverish, alternating burning up and shivering, weak as a Nancy Pelosi explanation. I should have called dispatch and begged off, but like any male, I wanted to fight through it. All the way home, I had the overpowering urge to sleep...not a good thing when you're behind the wheel. We were returning to Dallas on I-30, and at one point, I passed the exit to FM 549 - the exit I take to get to our house. It killed me to know that instead of being home in 10 minutes, I had another 30 miles to go to get these kids home and another 30 miles back to FM 549 and a chance to go to bed. I eventually made it and spent the next 5 days in bed with the flu.
Last year, my sons and I decided to head to Arizona during Spring Break to take in Texas Rangers' spring training. Naturally, the days leading up to our trip were cold and rainy in north Texas and by departure day, I had a funny throat and a throbbing head. We had a blast, but my enjoyment was dampened by the fact that I wasn't 100%.
Well, Brett just called and said that if I have a miraculous recovery in the next 24 hours, to come anyway since he and Jenny are both off Monday. I've just taken a dose of Airborn (sp?) and maybe, just maybe, there will be a miracle
from a God who is sympathetic to my Spring Break curse.