sister sister

When I was 13, my sisters gave me a coffee table book entitled Sisters for my birthday. The book was popular at the time and included portraits and short stories about various sets of sisters, some famous, some not. The aim of the book was to demonstrate the ties that bind sisters together no matter how different you are. I still have the book - it collects dust on a shelf in my upstairs hallway. I haven't given the book a lot of thought until recently when some setbacks helped prove the bonds between my two sisters and I.

Over the long President's Day weekend, my sisters and I decided to meet up in San Francisco for a night to see Tainted Love, an 80s cover band that has been a northern California staple for nearly a decade. We drove into the city on Saturday afternoon, saw the show that night, and then walked around a rainy San Francisco on Sunday. Around 4pm, my sisters dropped me off at the Powell Street BART station so that I could head to SFO to catch my flight home, while they took off for Sacramento in the pouring rain.

As I waited for my train, I checked my flight and it was on time. I listened to my iPod during the 30 minute ride to SFO and then made my way to the Southwest terminal. As I stood in line, I noticed that everyone at the self-service check-in was being helped by an agent, which didn't strike me as a good thing. I checked my flight status on my phone and instead of an "On-time - 7:05pm" departure, was greeted with "Delayed - n/a." For those of you that travel, you know that while delayed is not good, delayed with no estimated departure is REALLY not good.

I asked the guy next to me if he knew what was going on and he said that because of the wind, storm, and fog, SFO was shut down to all incoming and outgoing flights and wasn't expected to open until after midnight, and at that point, most likely not all flights would take off that night, including ours. At this point, I was pissed. I was starting to come down with a cold as a result of me walking around in the rain all day only 5 days after battling the flu, and the thought of sitting in an airport for 7 + hours was not cool. So what did I do??? I called my sisters and without even having to ask they offered to drive back to SFO and pick me up.

Mind you, my sisters were already in Fairfield, which on a good day is 45 minutes from SFO. But this wasn't a good day. It was literally pouring rain and the wind was so bad, you couldn't see because the rain was blowing every direction. The Bay Bridge had a mandatory 35 mph speed limit and water was everywhere. By the time my sisters made it to me, it was almost 7pm. We then turned around and started our journey back to Sacramento at a snail's-pace. I treated them to McDonalds ... which then set us back even further as apparently the city of Vacaville doesn't believe in signage and it took us a good 20 minutes to get back on 80. We didn't pull in to Sacramento until 9pm, and then Lindsay still had another 1.5 hour drive back to Chico, which ended up being 2 hours in the rain ... and then had to get up and go to work in the morning as her company doesn't believe in celebrating President's Day.

Fast forward to the next weekend when my sister Molly and her boyfriend drove down to LA for 4 nights so we could visit Disneyland and Knott's Berry Farm, and just relax. On Saturday, we all drove to my dad's new house in Pasadena and then around 3pm, they headed for home as did I. After sitting in traffic all day I made it back to the South Bay to run some errands. I was looking forward to running my errands, and then spending a relaxing night at home. God had other plans.

As I was waiting in line at Best Buy, my sister texted me telling me that Zach's engine died about 30 minutes past the Grapevine. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of driving up the 5 to northern California, let me paint a picture for you ... a dark, empty, barren canvas ... that's the 5. So here they are, stuck literally in the middle of nowhere waiting for some tow truck guy to come from Kettleman City ... why it is called a city is beyond me. After much discussion, we decided to have them towed back to the Valencia Auto Mall, stay at my dad's for the night, and then buy a new car the next morning. Although I didn't relish the prospect, I dashed home, threw some clothes in a bag, and made my way north to rescue them. Of course, I sat in solid traffic from LAX through the Sepulveda pass. By the time we got back to my dad's and ate dinner, it was past midnight. I got the uncomfortable couch and then we woke up early the next morning to return back to the Nissan dealership so Zach could begin the car buying process, which as you know, isn't quick and easy.

Finally, at 2pm, Zach drove us to lunch in his new Nissan Rogue and by 3pm, we were all back on the road. I didn't get home until late, didn't accomplish any of my errands, and was literally exhausted. They made it home safely ... much to the excitement of their five cats :)

Neither of these experiences were "fun," nor were they something we expected to have to do. They made us cranky, tired, and frustrated, but through it all, we still managed to laugh ... and that's what I think a sister is. Someone who will come rescue you while stranded, no matter what time of the day or night. No matter how tired. No matter what the weather ... and still laugh with you.

So if my sisters and I were ever asked to be included in the next Sisters coffee table book, our picture would be us, eating McDonalds in a 2000 Honda CR-V, with wet, frizzy hair, while singing along with my iPod 80s playlist. It might not seem as pretty as the picture of Christy Turlington and her two sisters, but it is to me.