She: If we lived in Europe we’d be there by now.

Z:  I don’ t think Europe is that small.

She: But we’ve been in this car forever.

Z: You’re not even driving.

She: I know. Thank you for driving, honey. Are we there yet?

Z: We’ve only been in the car 10 minutes.

She: Aren’t I doing well? I’ve only had to pee twice. Are we there yet?

Z: Not quite.

She: Not only am I holding it, we’re not even fighting. That much.

Z: Only seven more hours of crying, tears and tantrums. At least Koss is quietly buried in his book.

Cut to the Las Vegas Strip.

Z: Las Vegas casinos are weird with an 8 year old.

She: I’ve never wanted to put money in a slot machine so badly in my life. And I’m not being childish just because I can’t have something so I want it. Are we there yet?

Cut to the car, again.

She: Remember when I was going off about how much I love my laptop? I hate my laptop. If I didn’t have a laptop, I wouldn’t feel guilty because I could — and should — be working. I’d be reading People Magazine right now without a care in the world.

Z: So you’re complaining because I’m driving my 25th hour and you’re not reading People Magazine.

She: Does that mean you want me to drive?

Z: No. Not until I’m totally cramping.

She: I’ll drive. It’s fine. I think my driving has really approved with the ginormous Mercury Marquis.

Z: I’m not nauseous and I’d like to keep it that way.

She: OK, honey. I’ll let you drive as long as you want. I just wish I didn’t have to be so darn productive while you were driving. I miss the old days when all I could do is read novels and eat chocolate.

Z: Sure.

She: It’s exhausting trying to write when you’re driving. Want to take a break and listen to Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me?

Z: Great. There’s nothing like listening to another successful classmate to make an endless drive through the desert that much more fun.

She: Yeah. That reminds me, why don’t you have a radio show?

Z: I’ve got the face for it.

She: If we had a radio show, I would put in a rim shot on that one. Buh-dah-buh. We’re up to 353 words in our column.  How many miles have we driven?

Z: About that many.

She: If I can only write one word per mile it’s not even worth having a laptop.

Cut to Hoover Dam.

Z: That was the best dam guide we’ve ever had!

She: But I still don’t understand electricity.

Cut to car, again.

Z: Koss, look scenery.

She: Look, honey. Nothing but tumbleweeds for another 300 miles.

Z: Koss, stop reading and look at the scenery.

She: You missed it. Go back to reading.

Z: I just saw a sign that said “Watch Out For Animals Next 20 Miles.” What kind of animals do you think they meant?

She: Probably one of the 200 bugs that died on our windshield.

Z: I washed the windshield five miles ago.

She: Thank, God. Otherwise we’d have no visibility at all.

Z: Hey, did you see that chipmunk?

She: Right. The wild, vicious, desert chipmunk you’re always hearing about.

Z: Ooh, that’s funny. That’s going on our radio show.

She: Hey Alvin! Get it, Alvin and the Chipmunks. Buh-dah-buh. This is going to be one of those you had to be there to appreciate it columns, isn’t it?

Z: I’m there. Not so much.

She: My dream vacation used to be sleeping on a bed of rose petals, and waking up to the quiet gurgling of a chocolate fountain. Now I just can’t wait to get out of this car and pee. Are we there yet?

Z: Yes, dear.

She and Z will come home eventually. In the meantime, they can be reached at