I wanted to be a lot of things as a kid. Depending on the day I was asked certain aspirations such as doctor, fireman, freemason (?), teacher, butcher and author would come out of my mouth. I was concerned in my young life that I would never be able to find the time to actively work all of my different choices into one career, but knew that I would somehow pull it off. While one job choice or the other would fall off of my radar through the years, one interest that I had always remained a constant; no matter what I did I somehow wanted to also give myself enough free time that I could tour the country with my magician act.

For my fifth birthday my parents gave me a Fisher Price magic set. Oh, it was beautiful; an easy to carry case which housed my many tricks of wonderment. I could make a flower appear out of the end of a wand, I could make one object, “magically,” trade places with another and I could make a small sponge ball materialize from my nose (I made that trick up myself!). I was in short, amazing.

While my illustrious magic career has somewhat dried up through the years, I can still do one good trick; I can make any amount of time double or sometimes even triple in size.

So I had just finished enjoying my Thanksgiving at my Moms when I hit the road to travel the one hour trip back to my apartment. I had just started to really rock out during my in-car performance of Whitesnake’s greatest hits when I started noticing a lot of cars with flashing lights on top passing me at an alarming rate of speed and numbers. Thinking that this couldn’t be a good sign, I cautiously approached a long line of stopped cars on the road.

After the driver of the stopped car in front of me kindly asked me to stop laying on my horn he explained that there had been an accident up the road thus explaining why my car wasn’t going anywhere. I thanked him for the information and asked him if he had any single women in his car that might want to help me, “pass the time,” while we waited. Unfortunately, he did not. He also hit me. Hard.

So I sit there in my car thinking about how I should be at home watching the episodes of COPS that I had taped and am now facing the possibility of spending Thanksgiving night instead staring at the taillights of the cars ahead of me on the road. It was a sad Thanksgiving indeed, Charlie Brown.

So what exactly can you do when waiting for the road way to clear? Well apparently if you are the other people around me you get out of your car and stand 300 feet away from the accident and give your opinions on what must have happened up ahead to anyone who will listen.

Person #1: I bet it was a drunken driver. People drink because it’s Thanksgiving.

Person #2: No, I bet someone over corrected when trying to miss a turkey that has escaped from its pen because it’s Thanksgiving and turkey’s escape and try to not get eaten and also take their revenge out on people who are driving. Yep, I bet that’s it.

Me: Is it possible that people just had an accident and it wasn’t due to drinking or vengeful turkeys?

The group turns and looks at me. I take an uncomfortable sip of my, "Big Gulp".

Person #1: Get back in your car.

Me: Yes, sir.

So being as that all of my suspicions of the cause of the accident are too controversial for some to hear I sit and wait, listening to the last 3 tracks of David Coverdale telling me just how hard love is. While this would appease most any 80’s teenager, I was getting restless. Not only did I have to pee, I was also beginning to think that the mob that I had made angry earlier with my far out theories were planning their attack on the new guy.

Luckily, I have a keen sense of direction and decided that I would take this opportunity to test this gift by finding a new route home. I made a 75-point turn in the middle of the road and headed off in the other direction, leaving all of the amateur crime scene investigators in my exhaust. Faster then you can say, “Body never found,” I turned on the first road that I came across.

A funny thing about the back roads of Southern Indiana, they all look the same. While I had been confident in my guessing of the way to get home at first, I realized that after traveling my newfound route for over an hour something had happened. I was lost.

Not just kind of lost; lost lost. The kind of lost where you start to wonder if you should have brought a suitcase. The kind of lost where you hope your mom uses your good prom picture for the milk cartons. The kind of lost where you become desperate to find your way home again and will do anything to make it happen.

So I do something that any normal person would cringe at; I stop at the single home on the now gravel road that I am traveling to ask for directions. Approaching the house that would hopefully be my guiding light I quickly run through all of my kick ass karate moves that I could use just in case they tried anything funny. Oh, not funny ha-ha, more, "let's kill this dude and dress his carcass in a dress so he reminds us of our dead daughter," funny.

So I knock on the door and some dude in his underwear answers. Now…I know that it’s out in the country and all, but when is it EVER acceptable to answer one’s door in his or her under things?

(Knock on door)

Old Dude: I’ll get it.

Old Broad: But you’re in your skivvies, Mel!

Old Dude: If someone’s gonna knock on our door at night, they deserve to see what they see!

While I am taken quite aback at the sight of this old guy in way too loose briefs, I was able to keep my calm:

Me: I’m lost.

Old Dude: Have you considered God?

Me: No, like I don’t know how to get back on the highway.

Old Dude: Answer my question.

Me: Have a good evening. (Runs off and silently thanks himself for leaving his car running)

Well, to make a long story short, I finally got home. Who cares if it was starting to get light outside again by the time I opened my door? Who cares that I now knew the extra long way home? Who cares if I had somehow managed to make my trip loop through Tennessee? I was home, and I was happy.

Lesson learned: go with what you know. I’m no Lewis and Clark and I should have realized that from the beginning. There are times to be confident and times to stay in stopped traffic and listen to the theories of others.

Oh, but something good did come of this night. I performed my greatest magic feat; I turned one hour into eight. Ta-da!

…I can see you're holding your applause…

Copyright © 2006 Ray Tice
Please do not remove the copyright from this work.

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