Cattle Ride

Conquistadora likes to plan. She plans everything. She plans planning. She plans on when and how to plan planning. She plans to plan when not planning and even plans when not to plan so it is in her planner.

She planned an outing for our family to go on a drive to a place where they offer free train rides through a stream of lights. I didn't know the "place" or the "they" because I am never privy to my wife's details, not even a glimpse at her Planning Planner of Plans Book.

She got everything ready. I tried to help pack but she beat me to it. She beats me to everything because presumably I am too slow and don't know how to do anything right that is related to kids and travel, like pack snacks or realize we would need to put the stroller in the trunk.

There we were on the The Road. "Go left. Did you see that sign? Route 23 is coming up wait, you missed it!!" Conquistadora wasn't arguing with me. She was mad at my GPS Babe who calls out the rights and lefts of our destination. GPS Babe is kind of relaxed, easy going. She has a flirty British accent so sometimes I will
drive in circles around the neighborhood just to hear her say, "We are rerouting, you have to slowly back out and drive it back around, you naughty little Yankee."

My wife thinks she knows how to navigate while driving along routes in the dark in strange towns better than a satellite driven program that can pinpoint coordinates on a route, even show a graphic of your car moving towards the destination.

With two unlit firecrackers sitting in the back of the car that never went off, we made it to our destination unscathed - minus the Babe vs Babe Cat Fight - in a rural town so far downstate I had never heard of the name.

The "place" did have a train. "They" had lights. And it was 10 degrees outside with a bone numbing cold wind attacking us the second we exited the car.

I didn't pay much attention to what was going on. I was too busy trying to stop G Frenzy from wiping his boogars on ChunChun's face while lugging the stroller through the bumpy grass,

We stood in line. Several thousand of the townies had the same idea to take in some free entertainment.

45 minute drive. 30 minute wait.

The train pulled up. It was our turn. The boys were all nestled snug in their 15 layers of clothing that Conquistadora had wrapped them in. As part of the next bunch of riders, we were pretty close to the front so we had our pick of choice seats. The little train even had covered train cabins.

I made the mistake of asking G Frenzy where he would like to sit. "The Caboose!" he yelled with unabated joy.

Damn. I had overheard enough Thomas the Train videos and read enough TtT books to know my son loves the caboose.

The caboose on this train was tiny, narrow and wooden. With plenty of open windows to take in the glacier winds along the magical choo choo ride. No problem for my diminutive wife and pint-sized kids. They walked in, grabbed a seat and snuggled under some blankets.

But dear ol' Dad, who goes about 6'1, 230 lbs., was having a little problem fitting into the little wooden caboose. I tried to enter ass first into the open, upright rectangular door but the door was unforgiving so I spun around and shot my arms in first, hoping my shoulder would follow and I could wiggle in.

I barely made it. Once inside I quickly realized that I couldn't move. I was stuck in fetal position. "All board!!!" the conductor yelled and off we went, rumbling along the tracks, off to see the show.

There were small square windows in our caboose, perfect for my wife and sons to enjoy he view.

My neck was craned downward in between my legs so all I saw was the sawdust on the floor. Cold gusts of freeze were blowing into our caboose

I didn't fee like a Dad savoring in a precious holiday moment with my family. I felt like a cow forced into a trailer on its way to becoming an All Beef Pattie.

The train stopped and I pressed my way out of the door, my face blood red from pushing my body through, and fell off of the halted train onto the cement ground. The thousands in line began laughing at the chubster Dad who got stuck in the caboose.

I picked my pride as a man off of the concrete and headed for the car, sons in tow. My boys are too young to realize that their Dad is human and can fall. They think I am King Kong meets Steve Jobs (how did you find that video game on the computer, Dada?).

They don't get the comedy and sadness of seeing their Dad look like an ass.

So I walked it off. I had a long drive ahead of me. It began snowing, Hard. An hour and a half drive time for five minutes of holiday bonding on a train and my dignity squashed.

I can rise above vulnerable moments like these, re-button up my manhood. While I was putting the stroller in the car, I noticed another Dad, his two young sons in tow trudging through the rapidly falling snow. A Dad himself, he had suffered his own dose of humiliation. But this guy had on a designer coat and bleached hair and had the smirk of owning a trust fund.

Maybe he was too cool in his own mind to know humiliation. He would find out.

I took my foot and shoved him down the little bunny hill when no one was looking. His wife was too busy adjusting the 15 layers of clothing on her kids, and my wife was too busy refastening the seat belts on the boys.

No one saw the Dad tumble down with the stroller, which was now on his head. I was prepared to wait for him to get his bearings, come back up to the trail and yell at me. But this wasn't about confrontation. This was about a man knowing his place as a father: part hero, part dweeb.

So I rushed into the car and sped away like Bo and Luke in the Dukes of Hazard. "Why are you going to fast???" Conquistadora asked.

I just grinned, turned up the Led Zeppelin song that had just come on the radio and flew down the road with soaring snowflakes outside, my mojo slowly returning to form.