Posted by: Ed Chernoff
September 19, 2007
Topic: Brownsville, Part Dos

Matt and I were driving south in my black 2007 Navigator, the one with the stainless rims and satellite package. I had never driven south of Rosenberg on US 59, so I was surprised to find it was actually more boring than 45 North of Huntsville. Matt leaned sideways in the passenger seat, head back and the slightest amount of drool dripping from his lips. He had been sleeping for three hours. We were less than half way to our destination.

We were scheduled to be in trial the next day in Brownsville. Ordinarily, I take the plane. Our fees reflect the travel costs when our clients are charged out of town, but this trial was going to take four weeks by estimate and I wasn't about to reside in South Texas for that long without having transportation. I worry about my sanity in the most pleasant of surroundings, and I couldn't imagine what would happen to my state of mind if my mobility were constrained by cabs.

Besides, we needed the space for the move. Matt is a clothes whore. By comparison, I brought three suits - all dark with various GrrAnimal accoutrements. Matt wouldn't embarrass himself by wearing the same three suits twice in one week, so he had seven suits, ten shirts, two hats and 15 ties organized in a rainbow pattern in a rack behind his seat. Adding the shoes, library of books, two computers, plus a printer and we were way over the Southwest Airlines baggage limit. Hence, the road trip.

But God, I had no idea this would be such a mind numbing trip! I knew I was in trouble when I began counting Dairy Queens. I turned and caught Matt leaning against the side of the passenger seat. Why won't he wake up? His head was back and I had a straight view of the top of his head. I couldn't tell if his eyes were closed. I nudged him. He didn't move. I leaned over to see if he was breathing. I couldn't tell. I put the Navigator on Auto Pilot and with my left hand on the steering wheel, I lifted up and placed my face above his, hoping to see his nostrils moving. Hell, maybe he was dead? I drew in closer and - with my face six inches above his -I saw his lips move. I smiled in relief. It was at that point that Matt's eyes opened. For a second we looked at each other. Then he asked, "What are you doing?" "Want to go to Dairy Queen?", I responded.

I ordered a Snickers Blizzard, but the girl behind the counter with the cow eyes gave me one with Oreos. She did remember to turn it upside down before serving it to me, which I guess would have made it all worthwhile, except she did it with so little exuberance and flair that I felt like I was imposing. The last thing I was going to do was complain. I’m giving no one the opportunity to spit in my Blizzard. Matt ordered a Hunger Buster with Bacon, tater tots and a chocolate shake. He ate in silence and occasionally looked up at me with suspicion. "Want to drive?", I asked. "No", he responded into his burger, "I'm in no shape. I took a Xanax a couple hours ago and I’m going back to sleep." Fucker!

Two hours, and three more Dairy Queens later, we were driving through Willacy County. Matt had graced me with his consciousness, and we were close enough to our destination so that the trial was on both of our minds. We talked strategy and predicted the mess that awaited us. Knowing that all the other defendants were set to plea and negotiate with the Government, we bemused our Fate. It wasn't funny, but it was pleasant. Then I saw him.

The Willacy County Sheriff sat on the shoulder, one nib of his patrol car aimed towards the flow of traffic. We weren't speeding, but as we passed he jumped into traffic. Still 100 yards away, I knew that the Navigator had become prey. "We are about to be stopped", I said, looking into the rear view mirror. The patrol car came closer, still no lights or siren. "For what?", Matt asked. "I guess we are about to find out", I said.

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