I did a dumb thing.
Thursday evening we had Symphony tickets. As is our wont, I drove Harper’s Other Dad to work on Thursday morning. The plan is; I drive back to pick him up at the end of the day and we go downtown to Symphony Hall. Along the way we grab some dinner and perhaps a cocktail. It’s a lot of rush-hour driving but the alternative is to meet downtown; park 2 cars; and drive home separately after the concert. With the preferred method we share the drive downtown as well as the drive home and we only end up downtown with one car. The total combined mileage is farther but we think it’s worth it. And it all works smoothly as long as I remember one simple but critical data element; what day of the week it is. How hard can that be? It turns out this is not a rhetorical question.
Some information about the geography of Harper’s Valley for context; it’s big. I don’t mean “Big Valley” as in; “Nick, Audra, the barn’s on fire!”. I mean the distances between things are relatively large. The Phoenix metropolitan area is as good an example of ‘urban sprawl’ as I can imagine. Going anywhere, it seems, involves getting on an expressway and driving a long distance. Of course between 4:00 and 7:00 PM there are a couple million other people doing the same thing.
I’ve heard a picture if worth a thousand words. On this map, Casa de Harper is A. B is the office where Harper’s Other Dad (HOD) works Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. C is where HOD works on Tuesday and Thursday. Symphony Hall is D. To give you a sense of scale, from A to C is 31 miles. From D back to A is about the about 26 miles.
The plan for Symphony days is to drive from A to C to D and back to A. You’ll notice B does not appear in the route. That is because we go to Symphony on Thursday evenings and B is the MWF work location.
As you have probably deduced, on this particular Thursday, being somewhat distracted and, at least briefly, lacking the brains required to pour pee out of a boot by reading the instructions on the sole, I drove to B; sent a text saying; “I am here” and waited for the door to open. Shortly after 5:00 I received a text asking the obvious question; “Where are you?”. After the obligatory ‘OMG Mea Culpa’, I drove to C. 2 hours and 15 minutes later we arrived at D. It was an extra 50 miles; all of it in rush-hour traffic. Dinner had been a 10 minute stop at Wendy’s and the cocktail had to wait until the interval.
I am really hoping this is the kind of mistake I only make once.