Kelsey's+Short+Story

25 or 6 to 4 by Chicago, back when they were actually Chicago Transit Authority. Hot Fun in the Winter Sun

Ah, finally, after months of waiting, tomorrow we leave for our third cruise. My dad and I had been through this twice before, so we had a routine on what to do. Leave the water dripping so our pipes don’t freeze, leave food for the dog, tell grandma we’re leaving, throw most of our bags in the truck or rental car. We had a system. It was nearly perfect. It was two in the morning. I couldn’t sleep, I was too excited. You can’t blame me, could you? My week of relaxation was so close, yet so far away. After all, the drive to Miami, Florida was twelve hours, and that was the most stressful part. I swiftly got up from my bed and quietly tip-toed across the house. “Daddy?” I whispered so quietly not even the dog stirred. “Yes?” He replied instantly. “You awake?” “Nah, I’m asleep. I’m just really, really good at sleep talking,” Daddy said in a sarcastic tone. “Oh,” I sheepishly replied as I left his room. He got up and followed me into the living room. We sat there for ten minutes, very quietly. Suddenly, we both looked at each other and I could tell we had the same idea. We both jumped up, and I went around turning faucets to drip while he went gathering our things. We dashed out the door and we were on our way to Florida- at 2:30 AM. Everything was going smooth until Daddy asked for our itinerary, to see if we were making good time or not. I turned around and discovered a big mistake. Our “carry-on bag”, as we call it, was not in our truck. I climbed in the back, opened the trunk, and our bag was not there. We had no tickets, no passports, and we had no idea what else we had so stupidly left behind. We were forced to turn around. We arrived back home an hour or so later, and realized that apparently, we were not paying for electricity and that we wanted to be robbed. We had left the door unlocked, and we left half the lights on in the house. (This was of course before florescent bulbs were as popular as they were, so we had all incandescent in our house at this time.) We turned out the lights, grabbed the bag we left, checked for other things, and locked the door. We were back on our way to Miami, for real this time. Ironically, at twenty-three minutes until four in the morning, the song “25 or 6 to 4” by Chicago Transit Authority came on. Since this time, we had rented a car; we turned the volume all the way up and jammed down I-95. We actually heard this song many times throughout our trip, but it wasn’t as ironic as the first time. We stopped once during our twelve hour drive, and got a hotel. “Hey, are there any seafood places around here?” Daddy asked the hotel receptionist calmly. "Yeah, there's this place called Salt Water Cowboys. Just go across 95 and take a left down the dirt road." he replied. We followed his directions and the place was this dirty old shack. My daddy and I looked at each other, then back at the place, and we both hoped that we wouldn’t die before we got to take our cruise. Salt Water Cowboys was a very dimly-lit restaurant, and it was right on the Intracostal Waterway. It was beautiful. We ordered our meal, and it was truly the best seafood ever. We had learned that everything except the Maine Lobster was caught that day. After this lovely meal and a nice rest at the hotel, we were back on our way to Miami. The five hour trip to Miami seemed so much shorter now that we were in Florida. After all this driving, we had arrived. Yet again, as we were pulling into the parking garage, “25 or 6 to 4” came on. We listened to the song as we gathered our suitcases and sat in the parking deck as daddy had his last cigarette for a few hours. Daddy and I grabbed our suitcases and headed for customs. We checked our bags in, got our cruise ID cards, and walked up the narrow ramp to the ship. Our vacation had begun. On the last day, there was a pool party, and most people were there. After singing a few Caribbean songs, the band played “ Sweet Home Alabama ” and of course, “25 or 6 to 4”. Our sweet, sweet vacation was over, and now it was time to drive the twelve hours home, but not without hearing our anthem a few more times.