We’ve been going to “Lights on the Bay”–Annapolis’s drive-through holiday lights display on the Chesapeake–since Little Big Boss (LBB) was in Kindergarten eight years ago. She brought home a flyer with a coupon for $5 off a weeknight visit, and a family tradition was born. A tradition that was even COVID-proof! Huzzah! No one brought home a coupon this year because no one is physically going to school, but—no matter—we were willing to pay full price to continue the annual trek.
We identified a date that Big Daddy wasn’t working—he’d been pulling a lot of evening shifts in recent weeks—and dutifully reserved a ticket for Saturday, December 19th. No need to choose a time; the ticket allowed for entry at any point from the 5 p.m. opening to the 10 p.m. close. We’d never had to buy a ticket in advance before, but I didn’t think much of it; a lot of things are different this year. We saddled up with happy hearts around 4:45 p.m. to make the 15-minute trip from home to Annapolis. Something normal! Something fun! Something together! Something outside the four walls of our own house!
I even remembered where I had put the 3D glasses that magically show you reindeer or snowmen around the lights. At least every other year I forget what “safe place” I have squirreled these away—or just don’t think about them at all—and we have to buy new ones. But not this year! We were ready.
And not only ready for Lights on the Bay. We planned to make an evening of it: coffee stop, donation drop, lights display, and then pick up a nice Italian dinner on the way home. A pretty ambitious outing for our crew in COVID times; we have stuck so very close to home that the real world’s kind of big and scary now. Still, the mood was light as we set out, chatting and listening to holiday tunes on the radio. Shortly into the drive, Big Daddy and I had to process the stunning realization that neither LBB nor That Dude (TD) know what Go Go music is or that Chuck Brown is the father of it. Parenting fail, for sure, but fixable. We drove on undeterred.
First stop: fancy coffee. I am not much of a Starbucks person. Ordering there elevates my heart rate and makes my palms sweat. So complicated. So hard to sound smooth. So much to pay to stress myself out. So I usually just don’t go. An unforeseen side effect of this aversion is that LBB and TD consider Starbucks a MEGA TREAT. I didn’t realize quite how into it they were until I took them on a whim the first Saturday in December. TD asked with excitement whether we could come every Saturday. LBB—more in tune with Mama’s redlines than TD tends to be—declared there was NO WAY I would agree to that. She was stunned when I proposed “Saturday Starbucks in December.” Anything to get these kiddos out of the house a bit more and lift their spirits.
Armed with a Grande Caramel Brulee Latte, a Grande Nonfat Caramel Brulee Latte, a Grande Cinnamon Dolce Latte, and a Grande Peppermint Hot Chocolate, we journeyed to the nearby hotel that was accepting donations for a backpacks for the homeless program that—in a normal year—LBB and TD help pack the bags for. LBB came in with me to drop off the blankets we had brought, and we took a minute to appreciate the holiday decorations and lights that gave the lobby a warm, festive glow. On our way back to the van, LBB observed wryly, “Now I can say that I have been to a hotel in 2020.” Indeed you have, girlfriend.
On to the main event. We hopped back on Route 50 East to make our way to Sandy Point State Park where Lights on the Bay takes place. We hummed along for a bit before ending up in traffic backed up in the right lane nearly a full exit before the park. Surely this wasn’t Lights on the Bay traffic? There must be an accident—or some sort of other glitch. It was about 5:45 p.m. by this point. Maybe vehicles entering the park hadn’t quite hit their rhythm yet following the 5 p.m. opening and a bit more time was needed to stretch the accordion out. We’d sip our Starbucks seasonal beverages, enjoy each other’s company, and hold tight. No problem. Our driver, Big Daddy, would aggressively ensure that no would-be line cutters could get in front of our van, an activity which he takes VERY SERIOUSLY and results in those cheaters and scofflaws securing spots even further ahead of us than if we had let them in ourselves. Happy Holidays!
We entered a weird time warp at this point, so committed to this tradition that we batted not an eye at advancing perhaps 50 car lengths in as many minutes. We listened to more holiday music, played some guessing games, continued to enjoy our Starbucks. Everything was fine. LBB and TD were actually getting along. We cheered each new milestone achieved: off the highway, on the actual exit ramp, around another big bend. We scoffed at the U-turn bail-outs from the line—marveling that they would abandon the quest so far in. We called them quitters. We got out the 3D glasses to discover (and delight) in the fact that we could turn the moon into a reindeer. LBB and TD busily swapped playlist recommendations, complete with 45-second audio samples for the whole family to experience.
At the 90 minutes and counting mark, our collective good cheer began to waver. I finally did the math on why there are only ever coupons for weeknight visits and why advance tickets were required on weekends. Big Daddy asserted that we had been behind an SUV with Minnesota plates long enough to invite them into our COVID bubble. LBB and TD remembered that they hate each and started trashing each other’s taste in music. Everyone but Big Daddy’s Starbucks was long gone. Our window for a big pasta dinner had already closed. Minnesota traitorously bailed out on us with no warning. But hope remained for us for Lights on the Bay. We had turned on to the final straightaway into the park. Traffic was still moving slowly, but the pace of the creep had definitely picked up. We had made it so far!
And then—the undoing. TD gave voice to those four words every road-tripping parent everywhere throughout the history of road trips dreads: “I need to pee.” I knew the jig was up as soon as he said it. We were on a bridge; there was no brush to hide in. And LBB would NEVER EVER consent to TD peeing in a cup in the van. She would sooner walk the 15 miles home than be even an auditory witness to such horror. Big Daddy wondered if I might walk TD up the road a bit beyond the bridge to a more discreet location. Alas, I also needed to pee (and probably had well before TD’s announcement) and thus could not safely take such a stroll. Besides, we were realistically looking at another 45 minutes to an hour of waiting. During our Disney vacation in 2019, we—with our coveted Fast Passes—mocked guests who waited 3+ hours for Avatar, one of the most breathtaking amusement park attractions ever created. Were we really going to wait 3+ hours for a drive-through lights show we’d seen nearly 10 times?
An escape toward home was available a hundred yards up the road. Big Daddy and I held a silent eyebrow talk to decide the matter, and then broke it to the kiddos. TD was relieved to know he’d soon be…relieved, but LBB was livid. All the careful planning. All the patient waiting. For what? A very long drive for Starbucks? No lights, no Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo. Everything undone by a Saturday night crowd and not just one, but two tiny bladders. We hopped back on the highway as soon as we could, LBB weeping dramatically in the seat behind me.
I suggested to Big Daddy that we head for a Wendy’s that I knew was a couple exits up; we could solve our bladder and hunger issues in a single stop. He cruised by the turn-off, explaining that we would have to cross to the other side of the highway to get to the Wendy’s. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? We just tanked two hours of waiting for Lights on the Bay so that TD (and I) could get to the facilities POST HASTE, and you don’t want to take the exit because the proposed destination is on the left side of the road? Instead, we drove for 5 more minutes down the road to a different exit so that we could drive another 10 minutes to a Kohl’s which—phew!—was on the right side of the road. We had driven nearly long enough to have been home if we had taken a direct route. Sadness.
As fate would obviously decree for this outing, Kohl’s consistently puts their restrooms ALL THE WAY in the back of their stores, so TD and I had to sprint a respectable distance to make it to the promised land. My easily distracted sidekick—having not seen the inside of a retail establishment for months—earnestly asked if we might do some shopping on our way back out. I said, “Sure.” We’d get to scratch TD’s itch AND make Big Daddy wait awhile—as we had so recently been made to wait. Win-win.
When we eventually moseyed our way back to the van, LBB had stopped crying but was not speaking to anyone. We were now well into the 8 pm hour having eaten no dinner, making the van a mobile ticking time bomb. We resumed our journey home, but Big Daddy soon pulled into a McDonald’s on the left side of the road (almost immediately after passing a McDonald’s on the right side of the road)—belated and bitter evidence that Big Daddy can make stops on the left when he is good and ready to. LBB declined to place an order in protest of being promised good pasta and somehow landing at Mickey D’s. She even rejected the McDouble Big Daddy ordered on her behalf in case she changed her mind. (She told me later she ate Pringles and a box of raisins for dinner once we finally made it home.) I spent the rest of the ride home dipping nuggets in sweet-n-sour sauce and staring moodily out the window feeling sorry for myself, being salty with Big Daddy, wishing my teen and pre-teen got along better.
Yet by some miracle—a Christmas miracle, if you will—this Saturday night misadventure did not deter us from making another run at it two days later. As families, as humans, it’s the only sensible way. Stay hopeful. Keep trying. Get back up again. We got our 2020 Lights on the Bay fix in the end—on a Monday, using the ticket from Saturday. No Starbucks on the second attempt and saved the good pasta for Christmas Eve, but the tradition lives on, proving COVID-proof after all. Minnesota, if you’re out there, we hope you gave it another shot, too!
Brownie Stew 