A few weeks ago, in an effort to combat some winter blues, PCG suggested we spend a holiday weekend in the Poconos.

“WE COULD GO SKIING,” he said.

“I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO SKI,” said I.

“You want to learn!” he pointed out.

Which was completely unfair. And true. In fact, I put “Learning How To Ski” on my Mondo Beyondo list. (WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?) It’s #6. And it’s worthy to note that on my list, I wrote, “Learn to ski without complaining” and let me just state right here that I’m not sure I can cross it off as completed because that “without complaining” part? UMMMMMMMM…FAIL.

ANYWAY, despite my reservations—what if I break a bone? I don’t have HEALTH INSURANCE!!!, etc., PCG soon sold me on the trip with the phrases “hot chocolate” and “sleeping in” and “snowwww!”

WHAT WAS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN:

Pack up my car Friday after work. Drive it an hour and a half west to Pennsylvania. Let the awesomeness ensue—hot chocolate, ski lessons, hot baths, naps.

WHAT REALLY HAPPENED:

On Wednesday night, I went to bed with a mild sore throat. On Thursday, the sore throat was severe and the congestion in my nose was mild. On Friday morning, my throat was on fire, I couldn’t breathe out of either nostril and my head was throbbing so intensely that I thought it’d be less painful if I just lobbed it off completely with a machete.

On top of this, earlier in the week, after pulling out of PCG’s garage, I noticed my car had been leaking a suspicious fluid. A few days later, the CHECK COOLANT light buzzed on because OF COURSE IT DID.

“We can’t leave for Pennsylvania until you take it into the shop and have it looked at,” said PCG.

“LET’S JUST DRIVE IT THERE ANYWAY AND IGNORE IT,” I suggested, which is my way of solving car problems.

“UM. NO.”

Shortly after, I found myself at the Pep Boys in Long Island City, Queens which, if you haven’t been, YOU SHOULD GO! YOU ARE IN FOR A TREAT. The last time I was there to get my car inspected, they forgot to put the brakes back on correctly and PCG almost died.

“The brakes won’t stop,” he told the mechanic.

“Ohhhhh,” said the mechanic. “We forgot to the put them back on the right way. MY BAD.”

!?!?!?

Naturally, I couldn’t resist such amazing customer service so I took it back there AGAIN to see what the heck was up with the leaking and the coolant light and was my little old car finally going to die because that was going to be the straw that broke the sick girl’s back. OR SOMETHING.

I sat in the waiting room at Pep Boys for well over three hours, blowing my nose into tissue after tissue, watching some horrible television show where some lady asked the host if it was okay that her seventeen year old daughters go to tanning salons and the host actually said YES, of COURSE it’s okay, there are FAR WORSE things you’re kids could be doing! And I was like, what on earth is worse than knowingly giving yourself skin cancer!? And on that note, what mother asks questions on a talk show and LISTENS to the response!? Doesn’t that mother have any friends?! Doesn’t she have Google? Doesn’t she know she should stop her daughters THEY ARE ALL GOING TO DIE AT A YOUNG AGE and the mechanics were all LAURA, PLEASE STOP THROWING YOUR SNOTTY TISSUES AT THE TELEVISION.

Turns out, they finally found the leak.

(Which of course was leaking coolant, which, if you don’t know, is vital to your car running properly, THE MORE YOU KNOWWWWWWW!)

The leak was in the coolant reservoir.

(HA HA LIKE I KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.)

Which was cracked.

The issue was that they didn’t have the part in stock and had to call the manufacturer to see where they could get a replacement.

I sat and watched more terrible daytime television.

And then, because this is my life after all, the mechanics were all, SORRY! THEY DON’T MAKE THAT COOLANT RESERVOIR THING ANYMORE. LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE GOING TO GO TO A JUNKYARD AND FIND ONE.

And that’s when I sort of spaced out and started thinking of that scene from the Brave Little Toaster when they’re all going to get sucked up in the junkyard?

ANYONE?

“You’re worthlessssssssssss…”

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Um. Nothing. Can I drive the car home at least?”

“Yes. But the longer you drive it, the higher the possibility of the car overheating and damaging the engine.”

“Um. So, a ski trip to the Poconos is out?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Unless you want a smoking car on the side of the road somewhere in Jersey.”

“Actually…”

I took my car home and wallowed in my misery.

PCG suggested we rent a car and of course, I snapped at him with a WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM? MADE OF MONEY? comment which was SO super nice of me, I know. You must remember I was on non-stop blow-my-nose duty and was at the mechanic’s mere HOURS before we were supposed to be on the road. FUN!

With the power of Google, I discovered that a place near LaGuardia Airport rented cars out for $32 a day and we were all SOLD! DONE!

It should’ve been easy and smooth sailing from then on and I suppose it was with the exception of some minor mishaps.

For example, when attempting to pack up the car, I picked up one of PCG’s bags and promptly dropped it on the pavement outside my apartment. I knew it wasn’t good when I heard glass shatter and saw liquid oozing onto the street.

Turns out PCG had packed some wine for the trip, a bottle of red for him and a bottle of white for me.

GUESS WHICH ONE BROKE?

The white wine! Of course! Throughout the rest of the trip, PCG kept saying, “It’s so weird, I vaguely recall purchasing TWO bottles of wine…I wonder where the white one went…”

ONTO THE STREET. ALONG WITH SHARDS OF GLASS.

I thought we were in the clear once we scored our amazing rental car (a brand new red Toyota Corolla with 44 miles on it! HOT!) and were speedily cruising along I-80 through New Jersey listening to NPR. I decided to unscrew the cap to our BPA-free water bottle and as soon as I took a swig, PCG braked and water went all over the place and by all over the place, let’s just say it looked like I was both participating in and winning a wet t-shirt contest.

Anyway, we did finally arrive at the cutest Bed and Breakfast that ever lived. I learned to ski, a feat which I will talk about in a later post and on the way back yesterday, PCG and I decided to go snowtubing which was the funnest activity ever in Fun Stuff History.

To recap, all it took was:

* an overheating car that required a four hour stay at a Pep Boys in QUEENS
* terrible daytime television
* an entire box of tissues, a dose of Dayquil, a neti pot with saline solution squirted up into my nostrils every few hours
* an addition on my To Do list that reads “GO TO JUNKYARD”
* a wet t-shirt
* a shattered bottle of white wine
* a cold/headache/sore throat the size of Kansas
* the most patient boyfriend in the universe who paid for our rental car
* copious amounts of hot chocolates spiked with Peppermint Schnapps

If you’re ever considering asking me to go away with you on a holiday weekend, I seriously recommend you think LONG and HARD before letting the words come out of your mouth because HOO BOY! YOU ARE ONE BRAVE SOLDIER.