Marrying George Clooney

it’s monday.
i have a massive hangover.
we drank like foolish fish last night. white, bubbly, more white… something that looked like white but could have been a yellow, lemony color. so my head hurts.
a couple of months ago four of us – amy litz, karen, frances and myself – went to DC to march in a demonstration to end the war. Of course we stayed at the St. Regis and ate fabulous food and limited our marching because well, we had spa treatments. but none the less we showed up. showing up is important. but the thing that was the miracle of miracles and trust me i don’t use that term lightly, we were four women in a car driving to DC, each one of us have husbands that when they drive over the speed limit by say 10 miles, a full out nut-dance can be heard in all other lanes. i have witnessed each one of these women turn into the devil doll when their husbands were behind the wheel. not to mention my own personal front row theatrics.

frances and karen were comfy in the back, eating chips, and knitting, i was sitting up front listening to music, munching on apricots and pita chips, and amy was driving with the bluetooth firmly planted in her ear, ordering furniture and firing contractors for a good two, two and half hours.
she was also driving. amy is a take no prisoners, good aggressive driver.
now i just wanna say for the record, not one woman made a comment when amy drove way over the speed limit. not one. we ate, we laughed, we munched, we read and knitted and got to washington in a little over 4 hours.
when amy drove up on the sidewalk because the traffic was annoying, not a word, not a hiss, not a roll of the eye, not a “oh my god what the fuck…”
when she drove through one or two stop signs, not a comment, not a word. it was as if it never happened.
and when she made an illegal u-turn because we missed our exit, complete quiet. i don’t think fran even noticed she was so busy knitting and purling.

i’m here to say without a shadow of a doubt that had ken been behind the wheel you could bet your life that i would’ve had laryngitis and divorce papers in my hand by the time we arrived at the hotel.

but not one of us, not one woman said a word. we felt safe and comfy and for whatever reason we completely and utterly trusted her & trusted us in her hands. no fear, no worry, no “oh my god if you don’t slow down i’m gonna slam my foot through the dashboard….”

i’m wondering – and i’m wondering this out-loud because i have such a throbbing headache – whatdya think? is it a man/woman thing? a control thing? a trust issue? i know tons & tons of women who don’t really like women, who are so competitive with other women it’s almost sad – and so, i’m veering away from the trust issue. gotta be something else.

or maybe it’s just a DUI-ORGW thing:

driving under the influence of really good women.