Cincinnati

I forgot to mention that on Thursday I went with my mother and father and my brothers to Cincinnati, to see St. Francis Xavier University. I did not see much of the university, as I got no sleep the night before. I napped the whole time. Betsy wanted me to go, to demand to know whether or not their theology professors had the mandatum. So I guess I failed in my duty there. Then again, it would just be a "making a point" question, since it's pretty obvious that most of the FXU profs would not be caught dead within a large radius of a mandatum. It's a Jesuit university, after all.

On the way home we were trapped in a ten-mile, snail's-pace traffic jam. In fact, there were periods when no one moved at all. Some of the people in the cars ahead of us got out of their vehicles, disappeared into the cornfields beside the highway, and, I assume, enjoyed a little bit of a bathroom break before climbing back out and strolling around on the pavement some more. Of course, when we finally began to move again, the kids who were still in the cornfield had to run back pretty fast!

My mother is one of those people who always strikes up conversation with other folks, be it in grocery store lines or at movie theatres. So, she thoroughly enjoyed sticking her head out the window and having conversations with truckers. Besides embarrassing, this actually turned out to be pretty useful, since the truckers had radios and were able to tell us what was causing the jam and how long we could expect to wait. The first trucker told us that the traffic stretched back ten miles long; the second one informed us that the cause was simply rubber-necking. Rubber-necking!

A large truck had somehow jumped the concrete barrier and collided with another truck. This was all on the other side of the highway. Of course, there were no problems on the westbound side at all; those drivers are evidently more mature than the ones we were traveling alongside. Everyone was slowing down to get a good look at the carnage.

And here's the worst part: When we eventually got past the crash site, we slowed down and looked, too. My dad got out his digital camera to take pictures - before we realized how horrible the accident was. Sometimes I don't think my father is entirely "all right in the head," however, he's not a creep who would photograph the place where someone had just died.

And we were pretty sure that a trucker had died. We saw the cab of one of the trucks being loaded up to be carted away, and it was utterly smashed to pieces. The engine was pushed all the way to the back. My dad didn't think anyone could survive that; I would definitely agree. It was such a sobering sight. Everyone got very quiet for a while.

All in all, though, I would say it was an ok trip, although I slept almost the entire time! And I don't think Andy is going to go to Xavier. Ah well. I know my mother appreciated my coming. I aim to please.