I’d vowed never to return to the Big E after my last gridlocked visit, wall to wall elbows while I directed my little boys to look at the just-hatched chicks, or the monster trucks, or the world’s best fried dough. When a religious holiday gave me a day off mid-week, though, I thought I’d give it another try. The whole Eastern seaboard had the same idea.
We gave up after three hours of traffic when we were still about five miles away, two lanes of the highway frozen as cars waited in vain to exit. I tried to find traffic updates on my phone to make sense of the mayhem, but couldn’t get a signal amid the crush of humanity, so I just screamed at Siri, “What is happening!” to the amusement of one of my sons and his buddy, two tall teens crammed into the back seat. The only movement was people getting out to walk or abandoning the mission altogether, which is what we finally did when my husband predicted at least two more hours in the car before arrival.
While traveling home, we decided upon a visit to a trampoline park, where we finally got to move!
I was scared at first, like always, but got kind of used to jumping up and down and was pleased that I could jump into a sitting position and back onto my feet. I did an almost-flip somersault into an airbag and was repeatedly the weakest link in several games of dodgeball, too.
Beats waiting in traffic.