The Week We Went to Florida for a Day

While it’s nice to see social media plastered with pictures from the sunny south during March break, my mind goes back almost 25 years to the week we went to Florida for a day.

The menacing winter storm was forecast but so was our March break getaway. Three kids were excited and the van was packed. Off we went. Made it as far as London Kentucky where I barely made it off the expressway and found the last motel open.

The next morning, back on I-75, we sat there for the entire day with frustrated sojourners, school teachers and such, sharing the same desperate longing for a few days of warmth. Some offered us their emergency provisions, licorice as I recall. By night the highway was opened and we crawled further south over the border into Tennessee where were diverted to Chattanooga. There, the friendly U.S. National Guard directed us to the airport. A second chilly night was spent near a drafty luggage carousel.

The next morning, I had to get creative if we were going to make our destination. Rumour had it that the state of Georgia was blocked as well. It’s amazing the havoc created by a few inches of snow. I headed southwest into Alabama, to Birmingham and south to Montgomery. Further south was the Florida panhandle. From there it was east and then south to Lakeland. In violation of current safety standards, the three urchins slept side by side on the floor in the back of the van.

We had a wonderful day in the Sunshine State until it was time to crawl back up the eastern seaboard to home.

I tell this story as one more illustration of the old truism that of all the journeys we make, the ones we remember, with some degree of fondness forged over time, are the ones that go sideways. The obstacles we overcome. The delays we endure. The plans made on the fly. They are easily added to the library of familial tales told which begin the same way.

“Remember when …?”