Honorary Snowflakes

               Last Friday was a stressful day. From the Calc quiz I took first period, to the slab pot (my nemesis) I molded together during second period ceramics, (which then made me late for my third period class), to the lab I had to finish with my always-snowflake group last period, I was ready to leave. And it’s a good thing, too, because right after school, my mom, my aunt, and I were scheduled to take a road trip down to the Grove City Outlets.
               The moment the last bell rang, I gathered my weekend homework, threw it into my bag, and hurried into the warm afternoon sun. (Yes, the air was warmer over the weekend again. And now it’s dipped back down below fifty degrees. Oh, the joys of northwestern Pennsylvania weather.) I sped home in my car (not really…I drive the speed limit!) and shoved some clothes in a bag. Now all that was left was the wait.
               And wait I did. For an hour and a half. Oh, the agony! Finally, my aunt arrived, and my mom and I hopped into our respective seats. The ride itself was pretty uneventful. We mostly just chattered about the trivial things, like homework and Homecoming and unicorns, but I was already feeling better.
               Around five o’clock, we pulled into the hotel parking lot. Our room, (which we reached via super-awesome-cool elevator with a door that read “Call me, maybe”), made me feel like an Eskimo. I would be living in an icebox, an igloo, for a whole, oh, ten hours. How would I ever survive? (But seriously, I thought I might die of hypothermia before the morning.)
               On our way to dinner, we stopped at the information desk. My aunt, (also known as “G-money”), said to the woman behind the counter, “Uh, we were just wondering…is there any way we can raise the temperature in our room? Both of the knobs have been taken off of our central air unit.”
               The woman laughed, “There should be a thermostat on the wall somewhere.”
               “Oh, well that helps. Thank you!”
               Driving a few hundred feet, we arrived at our next stop: The Elephant & Castle English Pub. They sat us right next to a window that put the central traffic of Grove City on display. Our waiter came over for our orders.
               “What can I get you ladies tonight?” he asked us.
               G-money went first. “I’ll have the chicken, please.”
               I, being ever-so-traditional, ordered the fish and chips.
               And my mom: the meatloaf.
               As the waiter walked away with our orders and my mom and aunt jumped into a conversation about their respective jobs, I glanced around me. The walls were decorated with slabs of finely furnished wood, with matching tables and chair. Each waiter wore a simple tee with the restaurant’s name on it and a pair of jeans. It was casual dining, laid-back.
               The waiter came back with our food and I jumped back into the conversation. I looked at my aunt, “So, who’s in your class this year?” (She teaches chemistry at my high school.) And so she listed off the names of some of her students, and also told me about the nicknames she gave them. (For example, one girl is Granny-J, another is Wheezy, and three boys with the same name in one class are each called by their last names…or Thing 1, Thing 2, and Thing 3.)
               While we were chatting about my fellow students, my mom took a great interest in the table directly outside of our window. (Why anyone would choose to eat outside with the traffic nearby, I'm not sure.) She was watching a scene unfold. Finally, she broke into our conversation, leaning forward and whispering so that only we could hear, “I think Mom just broke some bad news to Daughter. They’re both crying.”
                I glanced out the window and then back to my mom, and let out a long sigh. "Mom," I said, gesturing to the rest of the restaurant, "look around you. Does it look like anyone else cares?"
                She huffed, "No, but..."
                I interrupted her. (And also stole a piece of her meatloaf. I'll just say this: yum.) "Well then leave the poor people alone, won't you?"
                She rolled her eyes, "Yes, mom."
                (I swear, sometimes I'm the mom, and she's the child. Ugh.)
                The real tension tamer came later that night. Our hotel, (the one with the thermostat that we promptly adjusted the moment we walked back into our room), also housed a hot tub. We arrived at the perfect time: no one was in sight. As is always the case with girls' weekends, I cannot divulge every bit of information, but I can say this: the water was soothing, and we played a few rounds of those super-lame party games for pre-teens (e.g. Would You Rather, Truth or Dare (minus the dare), and the ever-corny trivia questions). And later, we had a great discussion about Pennsylvanian politics with a man from Georgia. How did our night end? Two words: Mean Girls. The rest of our night consisted of my shouting out phrases like, "You go, Glen Coco!" or "On Wednesdays, we wear pink." (Mean Girls is me, and I am Mean Girls. We are one.<--- And there you'll see my Lion King II reference.)

                The next day, we shopped.  All.  Day.  Long.  There were a few snowflake moments, (but, of course, how could there not be?), but none scarred me too badly.

                We're home now, back to the temperamental weather of the Pennsylvania/New York state border.  The grapes are ready for picking, and we have no idea what the weather will be like tomorrow.  For now, I've been relieved of the stress that's been building up since the start of school.  Sometimes all it takes is a simple car ride out of town, a little bit of girl time, and another snowflake moment.  (Of course, now I'm left to finish all the homework I never took with me, but it's definitely worth it.)