When I was growing up it was a family tradition to drive to Illinois to see my Aunt and her family for Christmas.  This was in a time (way) before iphones, or ipads...

Which forced the family to communicate for the two hour drive, which we refused to do.

My parents would talk for a couple of miles.  Then we would all sit in silence, aside from a partially tuned in radio station and stare at cars driving next to us wishing we were in them, as opposed to ours.

After hearing my Dad say, “third damn toll, damn Illinois!” as he roughly tossed coins in the basket, I knew we were nearing the exit.

I was usually drowsy with anger at this point having sat between my older sisters whom had been carrying on an unspoken war since they were 10 years old or so.

When we would reach our destination my Aunt would run out and yell “why the hell are you so late!?” and then storm back inside.

We would then open the trunk of the car to realize the crock pot or whatever other poorly packed food item my Mom had had tossed back there had tipped and spilled on all of the gifts.

So we would trudge the gifts, dripping with cabbage rolls or whatever, into her house as she would shout “what the hell! not again?!”

Then we would “relax” on her vinyl couch and snack on a cheese log with soggy crackers while we watched whatever was on one of three channels.

Dinner consisted of whatever had spilled on the gifts and an overcooked turkey.

Then we would open up cabbage soaked socks and sweaters while my Aunt complained about cleaning up.

Moments after all of the wrapping paper and leftovers were tossed into the trash someone would mention “where is that card with the money?” and we would have to dig through the gravy and cabbage covered wrapping paper to find nothing.

Soon after someone would announce “here it is” and find it on the counter in the kitchen.

Then we would pile into the car for a two hour drive back to Milwaukee with our heads hanging out of the window as my Dad ripped turkey farts and complained about the tolls...