I recently went to a bridal shower. For those of you that may be of the "less fair" sex, allow me to explain that any sort of "shower" usually involves some sort of obligatory ice breaker type game. Not usually my cup of tea, but rules is rules, right? At this bridal shower all the guest were also supposed to provide the bride with a piece of advice to help her achieve everlasting wedded bliss. Thankfully, someone from the other corner of the room yelled, "These can be funny, right?"
We were running late and trying to re-engineer our overnight bags into the truck of the car, but couldn't seem to get the trunk to latch. We kept shoving at boxes and shifting the smaller squishy items but to no avail. We are starting to run late. Then we realize that the trunk latch isn't catching. After about another 20 minutes my husband troubleshoots the situation and figures out that if he uses a screwdriver to manually close the latch and we don't use the key fob to open the trunk, but open the trunk by hand, then the latch will work properly.
Something you should know about me. I love rules. I love protocol. I love when things work properly. If they don't work properly I am 100% convinced it is only a matter of moments before they break in a catastrophic way.
Something you should know about my husband. The only time he is ever short tempered in an irrational way is when he gets hot and sweaty when he isn't supposed to be. For example, getting hot while working out, okay; getting hot while trying to repack a car mid morning in June on a beautiful sunny day in Oregon, definitely NOT okay.
I insist that we continue to repack the trunk to try and prevent any extra pressure again the hatch. I just kept imagining driving down the interstate and suddenly our trunk door just giving way while we are driving, leaving a trail of boxes and pets in our wake. I perhaps go a little overboard here. I climb in the trunk and essentially start trying to repack our tetris game of a car. Nick tries to reason with me. There is no reasoning. I am quickly approaching panic mode. Finally, looses his patience and rams the screwdriver he is still holding into a box. I instantly flip out. I accuse him of trying to stab me in the leg with the screwdriver. (The screwdriver was no where near my leg). He accuses me of overreacting (I totally was). And in what is truly my classiest moment I told him I would show him overreacting and proceeded to start throwing boxes out of the trunk and at my husband.
In retrospect, I kinda hope someone was watching otherwise I feel like that little bit of humanity would have gone to waste. I like to think that another hotel guest heard us and started watching what transpired from their window, then called their spouse into the room to watch. I know that is what I would have done.
I ended up storming off and going up to the hotel room and fuming for about 20 minutes and then realized what a jackass I was. The rest of our trip was really nice. There were no catastrophes. Our trunk didn't explode on the highway. We had a great time actually.
Years later now we still reference and joke about that fight frequently. It is one oh my favorite married stories. Few things show love more sincerely than being able to fly off the handle at each other in public and then be able to laugh about a few hours later, right?