Benny Jay: The Highway to Elk Grove Village

Monique‘s college graduation party is in a hotel banquet room on the other side of nowhere — way the hell out in Elk Grove Village, wherever that is.

Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t miss Monique’s graduation for the world. She’s one of my older daughter‘s best friends. Love her like she’s my own daughter. Considering all the time’s she’s spent at my house she might as well be my daughter. It’s just that…

I hate driving. Especially in rush-hour traffic on the expressways to the suburbs beyond O’Hare.

Some people actually like driving. They talk about it all the time. Compare directions. Brag about how they beat the traffic. Drive their kids all over the universe just to play an AAU basketball game.  Burning up gas. No wonder the oceans are on fire. People are out of their minds. I know it’s driving me crazy. Feel like Crazy Guggenheim.

I’m going crazy — like Frank Fontaine….

Anyway, my wife gets directions printed out off the Internet. Take 90 to Devon. Something like that.

“Awww,” I scream. “I can’t stand this traffic!!!!”"

“Drama queen,” says my wife.

“Oh, I’m a drama queen? I’m the one doing the driving. But I’m the drama queen. Funny, I don’t see you offering to drive.”

That shuts them up. They have nothing to say. Cause what can they say?

The party’s great by the way.  Open bar. I’m not much of a drinker but after that drive — gimme the whole bottle! I’m knocking back whiskey. Okay, I have two drinks. But that’s a lot for me.

Monique’s proud papa, Mark, thanks us for coming. Turns out it’s a two-fer. His older daughter, Tatiana, graduated from college as well. “They are the first in our family to graduate,” Mark says. “Couldn’t have done it without all the family and friends in this room.”

Boogie down, Mark — you deserve it!

Not a dry eye in the house. Then Mark and his daughters — Tatiana, Monqiue and Sasha — gather on the dance floor  to dance to My Girl.

More tears….

It would be a perfect way to end this story, except. I still have to drive home!

It’s after midnight. Dark as hell. The road’s bumpy. My wife turns on the light to read the directions. Only now every thing’s in reverse. She’s talking to herself — “okay, we went right, so that means we gotta go left” — to make sense of the directions.

It starts to rain. I’m  leaning forward, squinting to see where I’m going.

“Are we still on Devon?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” says my wife. “There’s no sign at the intersection.”

“How can there be no signs?”

“Wait — that might be a sign. Hold it — yes, it’s Devon!”

“God, I hate Elk Grove Village!”

We find the highway. We pay a toll. We actually pay to drive on these highways? God, are we stupid! The rain stops. It starts. It stops.

I get home. At last. Put the car in the garage. Walk the dog.  Think about Monique’s party. Remember the first time I saw Mark. It was on my front porch. He was picking up Monique. Freshman year of high school. Our daughters were going through this particularly goofy phase of life. “We can get through this is if we work together,” he told me.

And we got through it.

The rain returns.  I have no umbrella. I start to run. Make it through one obstacle only to face another. At least I’m off the highway….

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