And what happens in November? My birthday, of course (don't worry, you've still got a few days to get your gifts in the mail, or post 'happy b-day' on my Facebook page). It's not a big number birthday, so I'm not planning anything too big.
Last year, though, was a pretty big birthday for me, so I decided to celebrate by taking some of my closest friends to The Melting Pot, a fancy fondue place. Pretty classy, right? And since my friend Katherine has her birthday only ten days before mine, we decided to make it a joint party. What could go wrong?
Okay, it's me. Something will go wrong.
The day of the party, I take a nice long actual shower, dry my hair, put on a nice outfit, and get in my car. Taylor's texted me to ask for a ride and I've happily obliged. Despite me constantly telling myself it only takes fifteen minutes to get to her house, it always takes twenty. Whatever. It's only twelve fifteen. Lunch doesn't start until one.
My heels click as I walk up the drive. I causally adjust my nice throw and flick a piece of lint of my nice dark jeans. Taylor opens the door.
"We were supposed to dress up?" she says, wearing her Northern Region Regionals long-sleeve tee. It's grey and purple, and I remember this way too well. Keep in mind this is a trend for Taylor and me. When we went to a concert last summer, I wore an off the shoulder crop top with fabric roses and she wore a TJXC tee shirt.
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| This was very nearly her prom photo |
I sigh, because I'm used to Taylor by now. "Don't worry about it. Let's get going."
We hop in my car and head off to the restaurant. Taylor critiques my driving all the way, despite the fact I've never rear-ended a wrestler from Oakton High while leaving church . . . actually, I've never rear-ended anybody. As I point this out, Taylor blushes and starts critiquing the one thing I've actually got issues with: my navigational skills.
"Do you actually know where this restaurant is?" she asks as I turn in a side street to an office complex. "Because that looks like an office building."
"The restaurant is in that office building. On the ground floor. I've been here before."
I drive in a big circle around the office complex and realize I've pulled in at the wrong place. So I pull back out onto the main road and turn in the next entrance. I drive down to the building where the restaurant was just a year ago and it isn't there. We've still got twenty minutes to spare. Taylor spends five of those calling me crazy. Thankfully, I walk up to the door and see a tiny notice saying that The Melting Pot has moved to 225 Morning Drive.
"I told you I wasn't crazy!" I announce triumphantly.
"Morning Drive. Where is that?" she says.
Bonus points. "I know where that is!"
She looks at me. "No, you don't. I'm calling Katherine and asking her."
In a huff, I walk back to my car. I think about getting out my GPS while Taylor calls Katherine and decide against it, on the principle of Taylor not telling me what to do. As I turn the key in the ignition, I hear Taylor say, "What do you mean, your car broke down?"
Two tense sentences later, and Taylor puts the phone down. "She's stuck near Sunset Hills Road. You know where that is!"
"Yes!" I exclaim triumphantly, and set off driving in exactly the wrong direction.
Five minutes later, there's no sign of Katherine and Taylor asks me to turn around. I do. This is the point where I call the other girls and give them the reservation information so they can be seated without us.
When we come across two cars stopped in the rightmost lane with their blinkers on, we know we've found her. I pull up behind the stopped cars, put on my own blinkers, and hop out of the car. Katherine is standing on the grass while a nearby motorist attempts to jump her motor with his own. She sucks on her lower lip as I walk over, greeting her with a hearty, "Hi, Katherine!"
Taylor starts laughing.
"It wasn't my fault!" Katherine says. "I left with plenty of time to spare, but Reston is confusing and I had no idea how to reach the address you gave me!"
"Don't worry," Taylor says, "It was the wrong address anyway."
"It was an honest mistake!" I say. Then, eager to change the subject, "What happened to your car?"
"I don't know!" She bites her lip. "I was just driving up this hill and it stopped working!"
Taylor's already back on her phone, giving her father directions on where he can come find us. Because apparently three teenage girls aren't capable of fixing a car themselves. "He's five minutes away. Liz, let's move your car,"
"Good idea," I say, and me and her get back in my car and drive up the hill. I turn in a side street and park.
"Stay here," Taylor says, getting out of the car. "I'll take care of this."
"Stay here? What? What makes you more qualified to take care of this than me?"
She rolls her eyes, even though the correct answer here is 'absolutely nothing'. "Trust me. Stay here."
And then she slams the door in my face. Well, happy birthday to me.
Acting like the mature adult I was (or would be, anyway, since my actual birthday wasn't for another five days), I decided to sit in the car and pout instead of going out and distracting the vital car-repair effort by trying to prove to Taylor how mature I was. Three minutes later, Taylor, her dad, and the random bystander push Katherine's car up the hill while a sheepish Katherine walks up behind them. I know exactly how she feels.
So now that the broken car isn't blocking traffic and a tow truck has been called, Taylor and Katherine both get in my car. Katherine slides in the back. I've been productive while Taylor's been gone--I've set up my GPS. Taylor greets this new development by thoughtfully freaking out. "You had a GPS all this time? Why didn't you use it?"
"Because I thought I knew my hometown," I mutter.
"Your town is confusing, Liz," Katherine says.
"I can't believe you had a GPS all along!"
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| We end up here eventually |
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