Cabin Fever

Melissa, Michelle, Julie and I rented a cabin in Mineola. We were on a Canton shopping trip this past weekend. My time had come. As the old lady announced to her husband at the lunch table we shared with them, "You sat with a virgin!" Friends, I was the virgin. I'd never been to Canton. We'd been planning this trip for a long time. Michelle had the idea and made our cabin dreams come true! Pictures and discussion of the cabin, as well as shopping adventures, will follow. But let's talk about the trip, shall we? We shall.

Pretend you own a cabin. The cabin is absolutely great. It really is. It's cute, in a serene location just perfect for a little get away. You advertise your precious little cabin on the Internet and get business. Let me tell you where you mess up. You give directions that get you to the street (not the house) where your personal home is, but not to the cabin that is around the corner, down the highway, through two gates, past the big barn, through another gate just before "Crazy Eddy Road", through four wheelin' country of two big fields. It was the craziest thing I've ever seen. Well...one of the craziest. I did party a lot in the 80's.

We began in one car. Packed all our girlie bags and food and games and rain boots and snacks into one car and realized we needed two cars. No problem! We downloaded Heytell, an app that turns your phone into walkie-talkies. Michelle and I were in my car. I had two ear infections (God bless that magic elixir of a steroid shot the night before) and was on pain pills, so Michelle drove. Thanks to Google on my iPhone, we got a hold of some cool CB lingo to impress Julie and Melissa, our "back door". (Back door in cool trucker language means the car in the rear. Aren't those truckers so clever? I thought back door was slang for something else. 80's again, I'm sure.)

Traffic was only bad on 635 around Mesquite and Garland. Well, sure. Who doesn't want to get out there to those two beautiful cities? Duh. We have Mapquest directions. My job was to check off the steps of directions we'd completed using a purple pen. We laughed at first because it was so silly. "Merge on to 635 W," CHECK and "Slight right onto service road 899," CHECK And by "service road 899, they meant that little ramp that gets you from the exit to the actual service road. Weirdest robot directions either. I became frustrated, and as is my custom, pulled in some technology. I worked that GPS to verifiy and translate whatever the heck that Mapquest robot talk was trying to communicate. We would Heytell the back door if anything changed. And man, did it ever change.

People, you reach a point in certain areas where technology can't help you. You can't get an app of the stars when you're camping, let's say, because there is not a signal out there. We lose the cell signal just as sun sets. PEEEEERFECT. And by perfect I mean worst time ever. This is when those tiny country road signs and my purple pen checks telling us which roads we'd been on become so very important. No signal = no GPS + no communication via phone or Heytell. This is where the truckers have an advantage. I'll bet their CB radios would've worked way out there! Dang it.

We are a bit stressed, however it's under control. Michelle and I are navigating carefully, paying very close attention to the Mapquest directions. We quickly discover we cannot rely on the Mapquest directions. Mapquest measures half a block as 2.1 miles. That's right. It said to stay on a certain little country road for 2.1 miles, but it should have said, "turn left, then make immediate right onto the highway you really want." Thankfully, Michelle saw the sign as we whizzed past it trying to get up the road our 2.1 miles. Here began a pattern-Michelle could read dang near every sign, which were all on my side of the road. Strangely, I could barely make them out. We're the same beautiful age, so I just thought she ate her carrots which I cannot because of the band. (I can make anything that lap band's fault!) Later, as we pull up to the cabin we are told I have a headlight out on the passenger side. Dang it!

By now all four of us are tired, disconnected, feeling lost due to distrust of our directions and anxious. What's funny is that when we were still about 30 minute away, we all four seemed to decide that we should surely be there by now even though we had no idea really where it was or how far we'd come or had to go. I've thought about this strange occurence. I attribute this phenomenon to the number of turns we took. It was FAR too many turns onto too many winding country roads for us to not be sitting at that little, darling cabin! Where is the cabin?

FINALLY, we see the final street name to be checked off the list and turn onto it. There are only four houses on the little road, then it T's at another road. Tiny road, but we don't see cabins and don't see a sign saying Beaver Creek Cabins. Michelle thinks that maybe we should call the cabin proprietor and ask if we're in the right place. I say that it's a very short street and there are only four houses, has to be one of the four, let's look closely at the house numbers. Well, only one of the flipping mailboxes has a number, and it is not the right one. LOSING it now and the phone rings. Julie has bonused a piney woods phone tower signal and calls to see if we have any idea where we are. I assured her we hadn't just randomly chosen some tiny, dark road to turn on and that this was the road which freaking' Mapquest told us was our destination. I then abruptly hung up the phone, feeling that my and Michelle's intelligence were being insulted. Little did I know that Julie and Melissa were feeling even more insecure since they'd nearly been run over by a long haul truck and they did NOT have the magic of Mapquest. I have since apologized for my behavior. Michelle notices a porch light on at one of the four houses, so we pull up in front of this house. Everything is dirt, as it is in the Kountry country. Picture pine trees, free dogs and many dead skunks. Lots of skunk mating currently going on in the less developed areas, people. If any of them are left alive there is anyway. Maybe the skunks who can't get laid in mating season just commit suicide. I digress...

Michelle says it's time to call. I call. The lady wonders if we're in her yard...she'll look out the window and see. Then she starts chatting me up. All I want to know, lady, is one thing. Is we or ain't we smelling the skunks in your front yard. I did politely ask finally, oh yes I did. It was true. By luck, brains, one headlight and determination, we'd found her personal residence, but not the cabin. She and her husband would get in the truck and take us down there. We were so relieved to have someone taking care of us now besides stupid robot Mapquest. AH, we'd be having dinner in a matter of minutes. NOT.

We follow their truck through her gated yard, go down the tiny country road two houses, turn onto the highway go about 1/2 a mile, go through two gates, past the big barn, through another gate just before "Crazy Eddy Road", through four wheelin' country of two big fields and three miles later we're at the cabin. Now, how on God's green earth did this woman expect us to EVER find this cabin? I'm not kidding you people, it was behind a house through gates and far back through fields to this tiny cabin. Key on the desk inside the door. Like we'd just pull up and park. We never will understand it. It's almost like you have to really want to give them your money. OH! there was a sign on the gate off the highway. It was tiny and not lit at all, but did exist. Once you pull in that gate, there's house with 5 dogs chasing and barking. You have to make it beyond that house to drive behind yonder barn to drive past Crazy Eddy Road then the fields. You have to want to be there.

And so began our adventure.