No Place Like STL

The crackle of police scanners was already filling our dingy motel room at 6:30 in the morning. Carrie-Bri had been awake since around four o’clock or maybe earlier.

“Let’s see what I can pick up in Detroit. … Nothing? Are you serious?”

She switched it back to St. Louis where a paranoid schizophrenic – I think – was waving a gun around somewhere.

“Ah, that’s more like it.”

We know those stats about St. Louis being the most dangerous city in the U.S. are totally skewed by East St. Louis, which is not St. Louis at all, and other factors, but sometimes it’s fun to scare people.

Anyway, the police scanners continued on Carrie’s phone as we broke out of Nashville through the foothills between Carrie drawing directions off of Siri.

“Agh. Whenever we’re outside of St. Louis, she calls it ‘St. Louis’, but as soon as we’re inside the city limits, she’ll call it ‘St. Louie’. Makes me want to smack her. She does it to be cutsie.”

 

Five hours later – glorious skyline. As usual, Carrie-Bri, Rose, and I began extolling the glories of our wonderful city as we flashed past the colossal-ness of our Arch.

 

Then, my boys. Oxbear picked Puck up from school and met me at the Big House. Puck found the road-trip Cheez-Its before he even saw me. Big grin on his face.

“Where are the souvenirs?” he teased.

Well, I’m no fool. He only half-teased. The plush manatee on the drive home was a big hit.

We did pause for groceries on the way. Puck won’t come out and say it in so many words, but I could tell by how he danced up and down the aisles that he was happy to see me.

“I got my jigs out! I still have more jigs!”

He loaded up the conveyor belt with groceries when we checked out and lifted bags into the cart.

“Was I helpful in the store?” he asked us on the way out.

“You definitely were. Thanks so much, bud.”

Deep puddle.

Jump.

“Wait, Puck!”

SPLASH!

It’s good to have my boys back.

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Jamie Larson
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