This morning I woke up at 5 (supposed to be 6) to go to Carlisle in the Fall, an annual car show in Carlisle, PA. I picked up Christopher Robins at 7:30 (supposed to be 7), and we headed out through the morning’s Greater Metropolitan Area of Philadelphia’s traffic. More than 2 hours later, we arrive in Carlisle, confused by its emptiness.
“Wait. Did that sign just say ‘Carlisle in the Fall: September 29-October 1′?” Christopher Robins asks. This is when I start laughing hysterically. “Turn right at the next light.” We turn into the fairgrounds’ main entrance. Empty. Not even the proverbial tumbleweed. This is when I lost it.
“I feel like an ass,” Christopher Robins says. The cycle in the car goes: Chris’ self-debasement, moment of silence except for the car stereo, me laughing hysterically. Repeat for the 2-hour journey to Chris’ home in Chalfont.
Lesson learned: verify dates and times before driving halfway across the state.