Journey With A Married Man--part 1

The scene opens with a married couple driving from Vegas to the Grand Canyon. They recently picked up a rental car from the airport.

She's scanning the horizon ahead while he drives. "Is this the Hoover dam?"

He's negotiating heavy traffic with campers and pedestrians, impatiently dodging around vehicles like a pinball on the loose."Yep." He swings the vehicle into the oncoming lane, skirting elderly tourists walking into the roadway, eager for the Kodak moment.

"Can we stop? I'd like to see it." She's been married long enough to know the conversation just entered dangerous waters.

His fingers grasp the steering wheel in a death grip; his eyes never leave the road. "Why? You've seen dams' before. Seen one--seen them all."

"Yeah, but this one is the largest of dams and the canyon is supposed to be beautiful." She rolls down the rental car window after grabbing the camera from her purse. She's been married long enough to know most pictures on this trip will be taken at 60 mph. and has become proficient at high speed photography.

He exhales loudly in frustration. "Awwwhh! Come on! It's too soon to stop."

She bristles, "What does that mean, exactly? Are we on some timetable I don't know about?"

"No, but we just got into the car." He zips quickly by an open parking lot.

"Is there some law that states one can't stop to see tourist destinations on vacation unless one has developed a cramp in their butt from sitting too long?" She's irritated.

"Well? Yeah. It's a guys' law. Besides, dams' aren't all that interesting.

"So that means my opinion doesn't count?" Her eyes scan ahead for the next pull-out in their direction of travel. She's been married long enough to know he won't cross traffic lanes--ever.

He stares straight ahead, silent, and zooms past another parking lot.

She glances at him, trying to give him 'the look', but he ignores her. "There! On the right. See? There's another place to pullout."

The vehicle picks up speed as he quickly drives past.

A few silent moments later, she softly says, "I mean it. I want you to stop at the next pullout so I can take a few lousy pictures. I'm not asking you to go on the one hour tour; I'm asking for a few minutes.

"Can't you just buy a postcard?" He's been married long enough to know he's being a donkey, but he loves to push buttons to the limit. She remains as still as a statue, looking forward, frozen in neutrality.

He turns into the next parking lot."Go get your picture. I'll wait here." The car remains running; his fingers remain on the wheel, ready to efficiently pick up time when she returns.