There was something eerily suspicious about the fact that all of our bags arrived in Chicago and were the first ones out of the carousel. Then, when we walked outside, our shuttle was waiting for us, took us directly to our car, and we got out of the lot without any difficulty. It looked as though we would arrive home well before ten o'clock . . .
Then the blizzard hit . . .
For nearly three hours, P and I lurked down the interstate at about thirty miles per hour, getting passed by massive trucks, and counting how many cars had swerved off the road. At about twenty-one cars, and ten miles from home, a twelve-foot Yetti jumped onto the interstate, picked up our truck and tossed us into a ditch filled with snow. Pissed at the Yetti for his severe act of aggression, P jumped out of the car (in subzero temperatures) tackled the Yetti and wrestled it into the super-secret Tai Chi sleeper hold she calls the praying Tiger. Meanwhile, I attempted unsuccessfully to remove the truck from the ditch, so we called Triple-A to see what might be done (since the Yetti's feelings were hurt and thus was no longer willing to help us out, let it be known that I just wanted to talk it out with him). As we were on the phone with Triple-A, Joe from Joe's towing offered to help us out for a minor fee and so we said yes, get us out of the ditch. So he did. And we crawled home to safety.
If THESE shenanigans don't provide further evidence that we don't belong here, I don't know what else would. Fortunately, no one was hurt, except of course, the yetti, whose name we came to learn was Pearl.
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