On today's 7 hour drive from Vermont to NYC

12:30 pm - get in rental car after brunch that followed the wedding of my freshman year of college last night, slightly hungover. Tear up at leaving old friends whom I don't know when I will see again. Tear up because it is amazing that my freshman year of college roommate is now married. Tear up because the weekend was too short and I should have gone up Friday night but I couldn't afford to rent a car for three days and stay at a hotel for two nights.

12:35 pm. Play with the radio. Get incredibly lost in the hills of Vermont (um, it's not like I hadn't driven there just yesterday). Should have been able to retrace the steps, but my sense of direction, in a word, SUCKS. Have no clue where I am, but Game 1 of the doubleheader is on. As soon as one AM station with the Trupiano broadcast fades out, change the station and find the game elsewhere. Finally get going in the right direction.

3:30 pm. Somewhere in Massachusetts. Hear the Papi walk off. Nearly crash my rental car into other Massachussetts-ites who are evidently listening to the game too, evidenced by the amount of swerving cars on the road at this exact time. Text my brother. Realize that the law that prohibits talking on a cell phone while driving a car is actually quite ineffective, because now, I am texting while driving the car. Obviously, this is far worse.

3:35 pm. Switch the channel to the Yankees game. Admit to myself that I would rather have Jeter get on base in the 9th with ARod on deck so I could hear him make the last out of the game. Wonder if that's fucked up. Hear the Yankees lose.

4:10 pm. Brief interlude. Channel my interior Steven Tyler, and, scarily, Mariah Carey, and... well... I've already admitted the rest, so... the singers from the Dirty Dancing theme song whose names I can't remember. However, they're all great songs to belt out when you think no one can hear you.

4:40 pm. Listen to the beginning of the Mets game. Am glad that Pedro is actually getting some run support.

5:10 pm. Miraculously, as I am now deep into Connecticut and close to NYC, find Sox game two of the doubleheader on some am station. Get annoyed but not entirely devoid of hope after the first few innings.

5:45 pm. Hear a mysterious noise in the rental car as I am on the Cross-Bronx Expressway. It is the gas light warning. As the gas light subsequently goes on, panic because I am not just in stop and go traffic - I am in stop-stop traffic.

6:00 pm. Call my godfather who has lived in the Bronx his entire life, imagining that I was soon to be that girl in the right lane with the stopped car with no gas and no cash while thousands of cars cursed me out and nearly hit me. There is no shoulder of the road at this point, so yes, I would have been in the road. Say "I need your help." Describe to him my exact location and he immediately directs me to the nearest gas station.

6:30 pm. Finally get off the VERY NEXT EXIT (4B) (due to the traffic, this is a half an hour later) and careen into the gas station which is located exactly where my godfather directed me. Realize once again that I have no cash, as the last dollar was used to tip the valet parker at the brunch I'd left at 12:30 pm. Realize there is no ATM there and begin to wonder whether there is a toll to get back into NYC via the highway and, if so, how I could get around this. Deludedly think I can possibly combine my minimal knowledge of the Bronx with my abhorrent sense of direction to drive through the Bronx back to my apartment and avert the stop-stop traffic on the expressway. End up in the middle of a neighborhood which is clearly in celebratory mode, after today's Puerto Rican day parade. Briefly feel envious at the amount of fun everyone seems to be having and flash back to how much fun I had last night. Realize that I am entirely lost in a car that I can barely drive somewhere around east 174th street and other streets I had never heard of and that I should really figure out how to get back on the highway if I ever want to get home.

7:00 pm. Find my way back to the highway. Give up on the Sox game but still, masochistically, listen. (OK I can't spell that word.) Cannot believe I'm getting coverage here in the city. Sporadically change the station to the Mets game for the latter half of each inning so I can hear Pedro pitch.

7:30 pm. Locate the source of the stop-stop traffic, a horrible accident just by exit 2. Fly home, and miraculously, there is no charge for re-entering the city. Guess it's just on the way out? Cannot believe how wonderful I feel going down the West Side Highway, with the window down and the river on my right and families picnicking in the parks on each side of me. From Vermont to NYC in 7 hours.

8:00 pm. Having returned the car, walk the few blocks to my apartment, and pick up the Sox game on Gameday (ESPN Sunday night black out, I guess, on EI?) Get annoyed with Francona for giving up on the game too early. Wonder why Manny hasn't PH. Or Tek for Mirabelli, for that matter.

9:00 pm. Upload my pics from this weekend's wedding. Again, can't believe how wonderful it was.

And now, it's time to fall asleep... Monday is quickly looming in front of me.