Entrance ramp to the PA turnpike.
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My Trip from Hell

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I was pretty excited. My niece Heather was going to have her bat mitzvah in Pittsburgh. It’s a decent drive, over four hours from my house in Baltimore to my brother’s. I was going to ride with my cousin Gail. 

A few weeks before the bat mitzvah, my Uncle Shermie called. “Can I ride with you to Pittsburgh? I’ll drive to your house, and then you drive from there.” I said I was going with Gail, but I didn’t think it would be an issue. We made the arrangements.

Uncle Shermie had his problems, but he was great company and always good for a few laughs. Riding with him would be an adventure. I was sure of it.

A few days later, my friend Maury called. He lived far away, but his dad lived here in Baltimore. “Can my dad go to the bat mitzvah with you?” 

“Well, I don’t think there will be room for him because I’m going with Gail and Uncle Shermie is coming along too. My car is too small so Gail is driving. I don’t think there will be room for all of us and our luggage.”

“My dad can’t drive alone. But he can borrow my uncle’s Cadillac. It’s a sweet ride! You can drive the Cadillac in comfort.”

“Let me talk to everyone and see what I can work out.”

Maury’s Dad Mike was bipolar. He was on medication for that, but he would say outrageous things. This trip was getting more interesting as time went by.

Gail said, “I’m out. I’ll drive myself. I’m not going with that crew.”

Great. I was stuck. I couldn’t leave Mike on his own. Then there was Uncle Shermie to worry about. I called Uncle Shermie to get his input. The two had never met before, but they were going to be a handful. I believe Uncle Shermie was an undiagnosed bipolar person as well. Yep. This was going to be some trip.

Both men were outspoken and loud. Neither was afraid to speak his mind on any topic. Nothing was taboo with those two.

The travel day arrived. I honestly did not look forward to going on this trip. The bat mitzvah would be a blast, but the drive was looming ahead. 

Sometimes, Mike was like a child. I knew him well and had spent a lot of time at his place when his son lived at home. He would say anything that popped into his head, no matter how ridiculous or shocking. He was a retired professional photographer. Later, Mike owned a pawn shop left to him by his father.

I loved looking at some of the unusual pieces of jewelry (most was not expensive) and other items that came through the pawn shop. Sometimes he would bring jewelry home to clean and shine. So there would be little displays of rings or necklaces on a set of shelves in their living room.

Uncle Shermie lived one of the most colorful lives of anyone I’ve ever known. He sold commercial land for many years, then sold solar heat during the 70s. My uncle went from being a whale in Las Vegas, having his trips comped and living in a mansion in DC, to losing everything and living in a boarding house. This guy had done it all.

Mike and Uncle Shermie were about the same age. But I think the similarities ended there.

When they met, I could instantly feel the tension. These two were not going to get along. Uncle Shermie sat in the back seat of the massive Cadillac, which by the way, was held together with a LOT of duct tape! The “sweet ride” I was promised drove okay, but the interior was a mess.

Uncle Shermie spread his arms and yelled to the universe, “Gail! Where are you Gail?” He did not want to make this trip with Mike. Fantastic.

We left early enough to get to my brother’s house in plenty of time to change clothes and get to The Tree of Life Synagogue, in Pittsburgh. It was years before the horrible shooting there.

And we were off. Uncle Shermie was muttering “Gail” and “Why?” through most of the trip. We got about 25 miles up the highway (of the 245 mile trip).

Mike said, “I have to pee!”

“What?” I asked. “Didn’t you go before we left?”

“I take Lasix.” Mike said with some urgency. “We need to stop now.”

“Gail! Why?” Came from Uncle Shermie in the back seat.

Fine. We got off the next exit and there was a McDonald’s, luckily, right off the highway. I went as long as we were there, hoping we could manage another 100 miles before the next stop. No such luck.

We had to stop several times, and Uncle Shermie always chimed in with, “Gail! Why?” with his arms outstretched and looking skyward.

Mike was jabbering the whole way. He hadn’t seen Maury for a long time and was more excited to see his son than attend a bat mitzvah. With his bipolar kicking into high gear, Mike laughed about seeing Maury, cried, yelled, whimpered, sobbed, giggled and every other emotional outburst you can think of. It was a very, very long ride.

Each outburst was met with a chorus of “Gail! Why?”

We finally made it to the bat mitzvah and had a wonderful time. But that’s another story. And Mike got to spend time with his son.

On Sunday, it was time to go home. I honestly thought Uncle Shermie was going to ask to go back with Gail (who is my cousin, but not his niece – the other side of the family), but he didn’t. 

I said a silent prayer of peace as I quietly asked everyone if they had gone to the bathroom before we got into the car.

The ride home was more eventful than the ride up.

We got about 10 minutes away from my brother’s house and the two of them started bickering. I felt like a mom with two unruly kids. I pulled the car over to the side of the road.

“SHUT THE &^%$# UP!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. 

We weren’t even close to the turnpike yet. “You two are worse than little kids. I can’t take this. You are grown men! You are old men! Shut up and act like adults or I swear I will drop you both at the bus station and you can find your way back to Baltimore on your own!”

They promised to behave themselves and I pulled back onto the road. This was before GPS. I had some printed-out directions from Yahoo! This part of the drive is particularly confusing and without GPS I couldn’t get around that area today.

The two men were quiet for about a half hour. Not bad.

Of course, before too long Mike had to pee. We stopped at a rest area on the turnpike. Uncle Shermie said he didn’t have to go. He stayed in the car.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

I figured I’d hit the bathroom too since we were there, and I wanted to stop as few times as possible.

As I was coming out of the bathroom, I saw Mike. We walked out to the car together. And to our surprise, the car was empty! No Uncle Shermie in sight. I felt like crying out, “Gail! Why?”

“Maybe he went to have a cigarette,” I muttered. But I was thinking, “What the Hell?”

We start walking around the grounds of the rest area. There’s nowhere to go. It’s right on the turnpike. We went back inside.

Mike went into the men’s room and I could hear him yelling, “Uncle Shermie! Uncle Shermie! Where are you?” 

After several embarrassing moments and odd looks from people in the rest area, Uncle Shermie came out of the bathroom. His head was down with self-consciousness, but Mike was beaming, “I found him!” 

Mike was like a three-year-old who found his missing toy. I thought Uncle Shermie was going to pummel him on the spot.

“I changed my mind,” he said quietly.

So after that 30-minute fiasco, the rest of the ride wasn’t too bad.

For the rest of his life, Uncle Shermie never let me forget that trip, not that I could if I tried. I can laugh about it now, but at the time, it was not funny at all.

Please leave your comments below. 

Read more by Holli Friedland.

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