Have you ever had one of those Kodak memories in your life that you wanted to preserve forever?  Well, I had one this past summer when I had the grand opportunity to finally spend time with Wizzy in her territory and to meet T. Stratton in hers.  Those were genuine Kodak memories.  However, they were also Candid Camera moments, The Gong Show exhibits, Howdy Doody Time and Girls Doing Bad all rolled into one grand vacation. 

It all started with a call from Wizzy’s ever-loving roomie wanting to know if there was anyway possible, I could fly out for Wizzy’s birthday.  I told her if I flapped my angel wings hard enough I was sure I could be there in time.  After all my wings are only slightly bent and tarnished, but not totally destroyed.   We talked about a date and time which I had her confirm with Wizzy in a round a bout manner.  I, being the anal compulsive person that I am, bought my ticket immediately to get the best deal.  

I should have realized right at that time, what our vacation would be like.  I no sooner locked into a non-refundable ticket, than the harassment began.  Wizzy, for nearly two months, constantly changed the date and time of her upcoming holiday.  Had I been close enough to her, I would have rung her scrawny assed neck several times over.  I should have realized she was messing with my mind as that is a gift she seems to enjoy immensely. 

The taunting continued until she and T. both accidentally let me know in conversation stating that Wizzy knew I was coming to the West Coast.  It was then I sighed a deep sigh of relief and realized the little shit had been pulling my leg for weeks about when she was going to take off for vacation.   

It didn’t matter at that point because I was simply just too excited to hold a grudge.  Remember, anal retentives never let anything die away so I tucked that knowledge in the back of my mind and it will come back someday and bite her on the ass for scaring me into messing up many a pair of granny under-roos while worrying about having the wrong days off.

The day of the flight could not have been worse.  I didn’t sleep at all the night before, as I had to be at the airport at 0830 AM.  I left the house at 430am.  Yes, I know it was early but remember parts of me are compulsive.  It was a good thing that I left that early as the interstate was closed down about 50 miles south of the airport.  I sat in three lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic with no way to get off the interstate for over 1 hour.  I cussed and ranted the whole hour but at least I did not get sleepy.  I finally made it to the airport and passed through the luggage check without any major problems other than a few raised eyebrows as to what was in my carry on baggage.  Nope, I am not going to tell you what it was, you would just have to wonder, as you never know when I may come to visit you and want to bring YOU the same thing. 

The flight was long but pleasant as I had a very nice small person sitting next to be allowing me plenty of room to let my body spread out – now that is important for a five-hour flight.  I should have gone to sleep but I was too excited to close my eyes.  I should have rented earphones but chose to watch the movie in silence and make up my own story line as it played.  But what the heck, there is only so much you can do with Shrek II.   

As we neared our destination, I looked out the window.  My heart jumped in my throat as the mountains loomed directly out the window.  My first thought was we are going in for a crash landing and I nearly wet my pants.  Being a flatlander and not seeing any mountains around me has it deficits, one being my comfort level with anything taller than me. 

OK, so I shut my eyes as we dropped lower and lower to land on a narrow ass landing strip – I am used to flying in and out of Atlanta where there is so much room there is no way you would ever miss a landing strip.  When the wheels finally touched down, I began breathing again.  But, enough for the flight. 

During all this time, Wizzy has been constantly texting me wanting a second by millisecond update of exactly where I am.  I text her when I get off the plane and phone her roomie to let her know where I am standing.  I have never met her partner in crime and must go by pictures alone.  I had the advantage in that I was one floor below where she would be coming in.  I debated whether I should hide from her but was simply too tired to be that mean that early in the morning.  So loaded with 100 pounds of luggage, I am finally retrieved from the airport and taken to Wizzy’s home. 

This is the first time that I have gotten to meet MY DOG, Wizzy Marie II, in person.  (I won her in a bet last year – the only item beside a silver belt buckle that I won from Wizzy).  She was fearful of me as a stranger but being a true Southerner, I came prepared and brought FOOD for her.  I wooed her with PupCorn pup snacks and she was soon my best friend.   

Now Wizzy was working or at least she said she was but she was still calling me every 15 minutes.  I swear she must have had the phone around her neck, an earpiece in place and the mic embedded in her cheek if she was really working and not goofing off. 

The plans were already made for the first day and I was to take her roomie to work, go back to the apartment and goof around until time for me to drive into Portland to retrieve Wizzy from work.  It went well with me dropping off her roomie but then all went to hell in a hand basket.  I had written directions by Derb, the ever-loving roomie, to get to Portland to pick up Wizzy but I had failed to get the simple directions back to the apartment.  Woe is me, I am lost and wandering around in a strange town in a strange state thousands of miles from home.  However, being anal is good.  I decided I would just go ahead, drive into Portland, and see where Wizzy worked so that I wouldn’t be late picking her up.  OK, OK so I was four hours early but whose counting? 

I should have double-checked the written instructions that were printed out of Map quest when I watched Wizzy’s ever-loving roomie strike through them and make up her own.  Do you realize how many times I cruised up and down the same 3-mile stretch of interstate looking for a street exit that does not exist in the center of Portland?  Believe me; a hell of a lot of trips can be made in one hour.  Finally deciding to give up, I picked up my trusty cell phone to call Wizzy.  It must have triggered a memory in her mind because I no sooner flipped it open than it began to ring.  Yep, it was Wizzy asking that all too familiar question “DOING?”  Giggling, I told her I was cruising the interstate looking for an exit that seemed to have disappeared off the face of Oregon.  I heard the all too infectious laughter as she snickered and said, “Never trust Derb to give the right directions. She can’t find her way out of a paper sack.”  Well hell, now she tells me after I spend a panicky hour wondering if I will ever find my way around or end up spending the night in the zoo (which I must have passed five times in a row). 

Wizzy quickly gave me directions.  I was only one mile from the needed turn off.  In fact, I was so close she stood in the parking lot and directed my route by watching me drive toward her.  When I told her how I had spent the past hour, she nearly peed her pants laughing so hard.   I was hot, tired, peeved but glad as hell to finally meet up with her again.  We looked at each other and all we could do was laugh. 

I sat in the parking lot, drinking a diet coke because some fool doesn’t know the great taste of Diet Dr. Pepper in her store while she finished her work shift.  I wrote, dosed and wrote some more while every fifteen minutes she would pop out to the SUV to see if I was still there.  Now where did she think I would go in a town that I didn’t know?  Anyone that knows me should panic at that statement because I have no fear and if I had more time to wait on her I would have been out scouting the neighborhood, leaning out the car window and asking about special sites and directions.  

Anyhooo, Wizzy manages to get off work early and joins me not long after I park the car.  We decide to cruise around the neighborhood to give me an idea of where we were and where she worked.  Big mistake!  Never let Wizzy behind the wheel of a car.  She must be colorblind.  Yellow lights and red lights mean step on the gas, gun the motor as fast as you can and dart across the street so you don’t have to put on the breaks.  Talking a mile a minute, she took corners on two wheels with me hanging onto the suicide handle (good thing I had my depends on or the car would have been flooded).

She finally asked me the time and we realize we had five minutes to travel a forty-five minute ride to pick up her roomie from work.  Her car is having a little trouble (like the alternator is not working and the battery is playing dead) so we decide to rent us a car for the rest of our vacation together.  We race across the countryside, again making as many illegal passes through lights as we can.  I have no idea where we are or what direction we are running in so my panic level is escalating as we ride.  Does Wizzy really know where she is going or should I flag down help as we speed along?  I am reassured finally when I recognize the area where her roomie works.

We detour to get a rental car before heading home.  At the car rental joint, (it doesn’t deserve a better description), we meet the BITCH from HELL.  She informed us unless we flew in, we could not rent a car.  Now how in the hell did she think I got all the way to the airport in less than five hours if I had not flown in.  Everything was going well until she asked what we were going to do with the car.  Wizzy casually answered we wanted a four-wheel drive so we could drive up Mount St Helens.  She looked at us and stated the roads didn’t need that much power.  Wizzy said, “what roads, we are going cross country”.  That clinched it.  She slammed her book shut, shouting she would not rent us a single vehicle if we were going to take it off road.  What did she think we were going to do with a V8, all terrain, and four-wheel drive?  OKAY, OKAY.  We got the message as she turned the lights out and left us standing in the dark.   

We sadly drove home trying to come up with plan number two.  Now, for me that is not a problem.  The internet is my friend.  I found us another dealer; rented the same vehicle we were refused and made arrangements to pick it up at 11 PM that night. 

That is when the fun began.  I had my first ride on an inner city train.  Remember I am from the country where all we have is pickup trucks and buggies.  Did you know there are rules for riding the train?  I must have broken them all in one night.  Rule number one; never look at the other people that get on the train.  I did and was giggling so hard I nearly fell out of my seat.  That set Wizzy off and we both nearly were thrown off the train.  Rule number two.  Never look a rider in the eye; it makes them start a conversation with you. 

Some young man (I mean just out of diapers) starting lisping at me because I looked his way and smiled.  He had no teeth in front, a nose that was flat on his face and a beard with maybe 3 wayward hairs; I thought I had found a man from “Deliverance” in the center of Portland.  Wizzy elbowed me hard in the side, knocking me off my seat, while hissing, “Keep yur trap shut on here.”  Okay, I finally got the message as I crawled on my knees to get out of her range. 

Many more adventures happened on the train, but I’ll save that for another day.  Needless to say after about 45 minutes of riding body to body on a smelly train, we arrived at the airport shortly before midnight and ran into one of the most crazy assed sales people I have had the pleasure of meeting. 

We ended up with a cool SUV, unlimited mileage, 4 wheel drive and a new sister (Wizzy’s roomie) so we could get the best rates, all at the coaxing of the sales woman.  Hell, if she hadn’t been working, I would have taken her on the run to Seattle to meet T. Stratton with us.  She was more fun than a barrel of monkeys. 

Finally – I mean finally, by Wednesday – Wizzy and I had packed an overnight bag to travel to Seattle by way of Mount Saint Helen’s.  I wanted to see a real volcano and the history around it that existed in my lifetime.  Never let Wizzy say she is packing an overnight bag.  She may accuse me of being girlie all she wants but she carries more luggage than the average high priced model out of New York.  I wanted to peak inside but every time I got near the cases she rabbit punched me on the arm until with my arms dangling uselessly.  I finally gave up (at least for that short time being – she had to go to the bathroom sometime, didn’t she?). 

After two aborted starts, (Wizzy CANNOT read a map) we were on the way, I, riding shotgun and she flooring the gas petal.  We made it to St Helen’s in record time.  I was amazed to see the height and beauty that surrounded us.  If you have never had the opportunity to go to the Northern Pacific corner of our United States, then I would encourage you to make it one trip on your agenda.  It has to be the most beautiful countryside in the States. 

Reaching the mountain, we ambled along without a plan of action and just enjoying the scenery around us.  The cell phones were dead as we were above the towers that transmitted the signals – we were truly free of contact with anyone.  It was a grand day – and it happened to be Wizzy’s birthday.  What do you do on a birthday with a woman that buys anything she wants anyway?  As we stood in the lookout center, an idea came to us as to how to really celebrate her day in a special way.  We would soar into the volcano, see it at close range as well as receive a guided tour all by way of helicopter.  Did I mention I am afraid of heights??? 

Making our arrangements, we were told we would have to wait a few minutes for one more traveler since they liked to fly full with three passengers and the pilot.  Wizzy and I looked at one another and silently decided there was no way in hell someone was going to get to ride in the front seat unless it was one of us since we had been waiting longer.  We nodded to one another and ran for the back door.  It was comical watching the two of us wedge through the narrow ass doorway shoulder to shoulder as we rushed to be first in line.  We nearly took the door off its hinges but it finally swung back and let us through.  SO what if I tore the sleeve away from my t-shirt and Wizzy ripped the whole side of her shorts open, we were going to go flying in a helicopter for the first time in our lives. 

We ran pell mell down the steepest seat of stairs I have ever seen.  It crossed my mind as to what might happen if we couldn’t come to a stop at the bottom but by reaching out and grabbing each other we peeled rubber from our tennis shoes as we coasted right up to the door of the shack where we had to meet for flying instructions. 

Wizzy proceeded to turn on the charm (you would have to see her smile in person to know what I mean) with the young lady making the seating arrangements.  She convinced her that is was vital for her to sit up front where she could see the ground in front of her or else she would puke all down the back of the person in front of her.  That did the trick as the pilot was the woman’s husband and she didn’t want to have to clean up the mess.  Giving each other the high five, we waited nervously for our flight to take off. 

I sat right behind Wizzy and my excitement never touched the depth that she was feeling.  I watched her as we took off from the landing point.  She was literally bouncing in her seat with excitement.  Her knee was jumping up and down and knocking so hard the pilot got back out to make sure it was not something under the copter. 

To make a long story short the ride lasted a long 30 minutes that seemed more like 30 seconds.  Wizzy rode with her nose and hands plastered against the clear glass bubble incasing the front of the copter.  She forgot to take pictures as her tongue was hanging out while she tried to crane her head through the small side window so she could see more.  Mind you – we are in a clear Plexiglas machine with nothing obstructing our view.  She could even look down at her feet and see ground below us.  It was the best ride of our lives.  The scenery was great but my greatest pleasure came from watching the uninhibited joy that radiated from Wizzy as we flew across the valley and into the volcano.  It is one memory that will live with me the rest of my life and one that will always bring happiness immediately to my mind and heart. 

After that, the mountain seemed duller than it had been so we flipped a coin to decide if we should head on to Seattle or back to Portland.  Really, it was no contest, as we knew if we didn’t show up in Seattle, T would be sending the state patrol after us and neither of us could afford to go to jail.  At least for me, I couldn’t, not with all the outstanding arrest warrants for giving false information, pulling fire alarms in church during high vespers, and jamming the over filled elevator in a 15-story building during rush hour when every one was on board.  So what if I had a little gas from eating burritos – it is easy to remain anonymous when the lights are out. 

We reached Seattle at dark thirty as we decided we could find our way around the neighborhood where T lived.   After all, we are born hunters; we don’t need to stop for directions.  We have an innate sense of direction and know at all times exactly where we are.  Well after cruising the same pieces of road in the beau-dunky town T lives in, we decided we were way the hell lost and couldn’t even find a damn motel to stay at.  Not only that, T. was by now texting our cell phones demanding to know where in the hell we were.  I am not crazy (well not entirely) and there was no way I was telling her we were lost.  I made up some kind of lie that sounded believable and T is so gullible it didn’t take much and I told her we’d call as soon as we got to our rooms.  I swung into the first gas station I saw, waved down a man getting out of his vehicle and nearly scared the pants off him.  In my slow Southern drawl I asked him as slick as syrup did he know where a hotel was that was close by.  He peered intently to see who was in the car with me.  I glanced behind me as he turned abruptly and walked away.  Wizzy was sitting in the car with her eyes tightly crossed shooting birds out the window at him.  Damn it anyway I thought as I tried to come up with a new plan.  I didn’t have to wait long as another man pulled up in a truck right next to me.  He had a pussy in his window, a cat that is.  I raced around to the side of his door and asked him quickly the same thing.  He gregariously gave me directions while constantly winking at me.  I thanked him politely and then told him he had a nasty tic to his eye and probably needed to have it checked out.  I left him standing with his mouth wide open. 

We found the hotel, checked in and finally returned the call to T.  How does one call T?  If you never had, let me give you some advice _ DON’T!!!!!.  For 10 minutes, all I heard was giggling and laughter now that we were finally in her territory.  She screamed and squealed like a young girl finally getting to buy her first bra.  We told her where we were and before we could say good-bye, she shouted into the phone she was on the way.  I was left holding a dead line with no idea how long it would be before she got there. 

We decided to mark our room to make it easy for her so we tore out a baboon picture from the zoo book left in our room talking about local sites.  We stuck it under the room number on the outside of the door.  See, T has the fetish for monkeys.  I think she is personally attracted to them and their curly tails.  We turn out the lights, open the curtain and lie in wait for her to arrive.  We began to crawl on our bellies around the room staying out of sight as we giggled.  We moved a little, giggled and moved a little more.  I am way too damn old to be playing gorilla warfare in a strange room in a strange town with women I have only met on line.  But what the hey, you only live once. 

Clomp, clomp, clomp.  We heard the thud of the steel-toed combat boots clomping down the concrete walk while we hid out of sight.  We knew it was T.  She has talked too many times of shoving those boots up someone’s ass for it not to be her.  The noise stops outside our door.  Next thing we hear (it is 1am in the morning by now) is the loud strident sounds of a belly laugh bellowing outside our door for all the world to hear.  Knowing if we didn’t shut her up soon, we would be kicked out of the motel, we rushed the door.  I flung it open as Wizzy reached out, grabbed the front of T’s shirt and jerked her into the room.  She must not have known her own strength as I watched the two of them barrel backward across the room to go spiraling down onto the bed, their legs and arms tangled wildly around one another.   

Shutting the door and moving closer I hear Wizzy mumbling something about having died and gone to heaven with her face pressed between T’s lumbering tits.  T is pushing her up but is nearly helpless as her laughter continues.  I grabbed Wizzy by the seat of her pants and pulled, finally separating them.  Wizzy stood and glowered at me as she hollered “You did not just give me a skin tight wedgies did you????”  I stepped back as her knuckles again, rabbit punched me on my already sore arms.  I couldn’t help but laugh as she tiptoed toward the bathroom while trying  to pull her under-roos from the crack of her ass. 

I reached over to pull T back into a sitting position and all I saw was a pair of boots sticking up in the air.  She had laughed so hard she slid right off the bed and ended up hanging upside down with only her boot heels left on the bed.  Looking over the side I could see her with her hands between her legs, trying to hold back the flood of water brought on by our laughter.  Between snorts, I heard her mumbling something about her damn depends and her backpack.  Wizzy stormed out of the bathroom and in no time flat, T reached out, grabbed her fanny pack and crawled on her hands and knees into the bathroom.  Wizzy and I convulsed in laughter as we heard the rustling of the depends and wondered if she had taken time to powder her butt like a babe as she put them on.   

I couldn’t help but think of the 1000’s of old folks that I have diapered in my life and now I am confronted with one even younger than me.  “NO WAY IN HELL AM I GONNA CHANGE HER DIAPER – HELL NO,” Wizzy is wheezing beside me.  That just starts me laughing again.  My sides ached and my boobs were sore from bouncing up and down in laughter. 

Finally, we turned on the lights to get a good look at one another and all we could do was giggle and hug each other. The meeting we have been wanting for over a year had finally taken place – the tears, the laughter, the genuine feelings of friendship are all on our faces for each one of us to see.  We laughed in relief, as we realize the persons that we created in our minds after months of writing and talking back and forth, really do exist.   

We didn’t sleep much that first night, as not one of us would give up one moment of time with each other.  Every time our eyes met, we would laugh again.  I know the guests on either side of us must have been cussing like sailors and wishing that we would shut the hell up.  Finally, by 3am, Wizzy is whining about being hungry.  That is all she ever does is whine about being hungry.  I swear she must have one huge ass tapeworm in her body that we don’t know about.  Anyhow, T spends 10 minutes using her undersized brain (only cause she has not stretched it enough with us and our antics) to come up with a skanky dive located under a bridge. Whoo hoo, I get to be a bridge dweller for the evening or what is left of it.  These are not people I generally dine with.  I have never been in a diner where the customer pulls out his or her own knife to use on their meal.  

We no sooner are seated than Wizzy snatches up all the silverware.  I am still trying to scoot over on the seat and keep my pocketbook from being crushed by T’s ass.  She is determined to make it flat enough to fit in my back pocket where she says it needs to be.  I cut my eyes at Wizzy in time to see her licking – yes damn it, licking my silverware before she hands it back to me.  OK that does it, lady or not, I’ll eat my mashed taters and gravy with my fingers before I eat with that spoon.  There is no way in hell I know where her TONGUE has been. 

The food was bad, no it was rotten, and I know we will all have diarrhea but what do you do when you are starving and T, living in the area for the last 10 years, has NO CLUE in hell where there is even a Mickey D’s.   I am hiding all the toilet paper just for that and we’ll see how she handles the situation.   

We watch out the window and spot a tattoo parlor across the street.  Wizzy starts drooling and her eyes become glassy and fixed.  All thoughts of food go out of her mind as the call of ink overtakes her body.  She stands, throws money onto the table, reaches out and YANKS T and me by our arms straight out of the booth and drags us across six lanes of high speeding traffic with one goal in mind – TATTOOOOOOOO ALLEY. 

I am not, repeat not, getting a damn tattoo on my body.  No pain, no marring, NO INK.  Or so I thought but that is another story that I am sure T or Wizzy can tell better. 

It is 5am, I have been up nearly 24 hours, my boobs are sagging to my knees and my ass is dragging the ground.  Wizzy looks at me and says, “Come on T, the ole lady needs her shuteye.  Let’s go back to the room.  While Shady is getting her granny nap, we’ll call G-String and fool around with her mind.”  T grins and rubs her hands together as G is always calling her and waking her ass up early in the morning (interpreted, that means G calls her around 1130am when she should have had her ass out of bed anyway).  We get back and I crash as I hear the two of them taunting G and laughing like hyenas.  I learned my lesson last time I met Wizzy and I slept in my bra.  There is no way in hell I want to wake up and seeing it flying from the flagpole out front.  I should have warned T but I was too sleepy to say a word.  There are just some things she has to learn on her own, was my last thoughts before Morpheus pulled me under. 

Have I ever told you I am a morning person?  After two hours of sleep, I am waking up and ready to head into Seattle and the Space Needle.  I look lying next to me and see two pairs of feet lying on the pillow next to my head.  Both T and Wizzy crashed where they lay talking.  Grinning maniacally, I hurriedly dress, reach for my pocketbook and pull out the personal alarm that I carry should anyone ever try to accost me (well I can always hope can’t I?).  Putting in my ear plugs that Wizzy insisted I bring (she has never told me why yet but I can speculate), I press the button and watch as both Wizzy and T jack knife off the bed to land flat on their asses at my feet.  Wizzy looks up at me with murder in her eyes.  T can’t get her eyes to open so she reaches out swinging her arms to slug randomly at me hoping to hit me.  I laugh as her fist connects with Wizzy’s nose, knocking Wizzy backward flat on her back again.  Wizzy is cussing louder than the alarm so I finally quit pressing the button and grinned as I said, “Get your asses in gear; the Space Needle is calling our name.  You aren’t dressed and out the door in five minutes, I am going without you.”  They both knew I meant what I said as I slung cases over my shoulder, swung the car keys from my fingers and headed out the door.   

T and Wizzy scrambled around and followed me.  Wizzy was cussing like a sailor with her toothbrush hanging out the side of her mouth, toothpaste dribbling down her chin to drop on her Mt Saint Helen’s tee shirt.  I looked at T and grinned as I noted she had pulled hers on inside out and backward.  We were on our way.  Seattle here we come. 

The ride over on the ferry was an adventure in itself as we were parked on the lower deck like sardines in a tin can.  It was so tight we could not even get out of our cars.  No room to open the doors what so ever.  Did that stop Wizzy when she decided she wanted a smoke?  HELL NO!  She threatened to smoke in the car but T told her she would puke if she did.  SO, before I know it, I see Wizzy’s body shimmying up and out through the back window.  Well, it was just too much of a temptation.  By the time she had her body outside the car with her hips and legs left inside, I cranked up the window and trapped her hanging out of the car.  She screamed, she hollered, she cussed and she beat on the side of the car.  Did I care, HELLLLLLLL NOOOOOO.  Actually I knew she would beat my ass if I let her back in.  Twenty minutes passed and it suddenly became too quiet.  I looked back and what to my surprised eyes should I see but Wizzy hanging out the window, her mouth wide open, drool running everywhere, and the loudest set of snoring you will ever hear.  T and I decided to let her continue her nap until we docked in Seattle.  As the ferry pulled in to port, T reached over the seat and began rapping out “Wipe Out” on Wizzy’s ass.  Wizzy sprung up like a bat out of hell, still cussing as if she had never stopped.  Having pity and the fact they were waving us off the boat, I let the window down as she fell backward onto the seat.  She rolled from the seat to the floor as I stepped on the gas and sped of the ferry.  I could hear her muffled cussing and see the soles of her shoes through my rearview window as she struggled to right herself.  T was giggling fit to be killed.  In fact, she was killing me, as every time she giggled, she farted.  Damn that rotten meal last night. 

We are in Seattle and I have to wonder if Seattle is ready for us.  Wizzy is still in the backseat, sulking, refusing to do more than shoot birds in my direction. I grinned at her and blew raspberries in her direction.  She reached out and slapped me on the back of the head making me bobble like one of those damn dashboard bobble dolls.  T was to be navigator since this is her town.  (What in heaven made me think that T would know where she was or where we were going?)   

We were lost, hopelessly lost and if I could, I would kick T’s ass out the car as fast as I could.  Between me going down one-way roads in the wrong direction, and T looking at the map backward, we were never going to reach our destination.  Reaching the end of my patience, and I have a lot (sometimes), I reached over and snatched the map from her hands.  In the process, the wind from the windows (‘cause Wizzy insists on having fresh air) grabbed hold of the map and sucked it right out of the window.  I looked with my mouth gaping open but remained undaunted.  I would get us there if it takes me all week.  I hung my head out the window while the cars behind me were honking like crazy, eyeballed the spaceneedle, got my bearings and took off.  T was screeching like a sissy as I made a U turn in front of the one way traffic headed directly toward us.  I stepped on the gas and headed in the direction of the Needle.  The going was slow as it was rush hour morning traffic.   

Wizzy was, by now, hanging out her side of the window again, yelling at people on the side of the road.  I swerved toward one man in particular, as she yelled, “Hey mister, you dropped something.”  He turned and leaned down behind him to check it out.   I laid on the horn making him jump three feet in the air.  He turned back around with a whitish complexion and a huge wet spot in the front of his black pants.  We continued on our way with Wizzy convulsing with laughter.    

Still not finding the Needle I pulled up to a red light.  There was a young blonde haired woman next to us in her car so I leaned toward her and asked her if she knew where the Space Needle was.  She laughed and pointed in front of us.  We were one damn block from our destination, as the Needle looms larger than life through our front window.  Before I could say thank you, Wizzy had slithered over to my side of the car and had her tongue pressed against the glass, making sexual swirls with the tip of her tongue.  I relented and released the childproof window lock and before I knew it, she was hanging out the window with her head in the other woman's car.  I could hear her using her low pitched, velvety voice to weasel out the woman's phone number.  Wizzy hollered over her shoulder, "T, give me that girlie pink lipstick you carry so's I can write down this number." T. reached over the seat and whacked Wizzy on the ass, while pulling her back inside as I stepped on the gas and took off.  Space Needle here we come.  T let out a sigh of relief that she had at least survived the ride into town. 

The Space Needle was something else looming straight up into the sky.  I am afraid of heights but let them talk me into having lunch way, way, way up in the sky.  I drunk my lunch to keep from being afraid.  It worked and it made me more daring as it did my companions.  T and I followed Wizzy to the mezzanine area to look down toward the ground.  I nearly puked from the height so I shut my eyes and acted like I was looking around.  My eyes popped back open as I heard T again beginning to squeal (I think that is all she does, she is SOOOOO GIRLIE).  Looking up I saw Wizzy hanging over the side, only her legs left for my view with T hanging on to one foot.  I reached out and grabbed the other, hollering what the hell was going on.  T turns to me and says that Wizzy insisted on seeing what the rotor looked like that makes the Space Needle turn round and round.  We held tight to her as she swayed and bobbed hundreds of feet above ground.  I finally heard a muffled “Pull me up” and we brought her back on board.  TOO LATE!  The guards have spotted us and we ended up being the first visitors in Space Needle history to be evicted from the Needle.   

It doesn’t matter, as the memories of the day will remain with me forever.  I made the trip of a lifetime to spend with my bestest buddies.  I got to fulfill and be part of many wishes, both my own, T’s and most of all Wizzy’s.  Our day had begun just as radically as our friendship.  The trip and meeting Wizzy and T was the dream of a lifetime come true.  Their friendship is unparallel to anything I could compare it to.  T and Wizzy mean more to me then measly words can ever convey.  

The truth of friendship stands strong as we begin a journey that will last us a lifetime.  With one big group hug, with me trying to push my boobs out of our way, we begin our journey to really imprint one another in our minds.  My love for my friends, Wizzy and T, is unbound and only grows as finally I meet them in person. The journey is new and will be filled with laughter, love and friendship as we complete our pact:  “One for All and All for One.” 

This tale is filled with real truths and just as many lies.  Only the three of us will know what is real and what is not.  Our intent is to share what our relationship means to as many as we can, to show that there is goodness and hope around you if you only look for it. Reach out to accept it when it is presented to you.  Some day maybe your journey may reach the height that our has.  Until then, keep hoping, looking and never give up.  Look how my heart and my life have been enriched through knowing T and Wizzy. 

One for all, and all for one,

Shadylady