Thirty-something speaks
They'll never know
The Gay Dolphin

Mike Maddock

The question "Are we there yet?" used to have a much different meaning. It meant a child was tired of counting the pine trees alongside an interstate while riding in a car on a long trip. He was sick of listening to static-filled radio stations and even sicker of listening to his dad snore in the passenger seat. "Are we there yet?" was another way of saying the standard car games had gotten old.

The phrase wasn't so much a question but a way of letting the driver know this trip was about to get really annoying. Not long ago, I was that kid asking the question. I spent more time counting pine trees alongside I-20 than I care to remember, but at least I developed a sense of where I was and where I was going. Back then the primary child-restraining device was a mother's forearm and reading billboards and license tags was the only entertainment.

Today kids have DVD players and a trip to Grandma's just isn't what it used to be. Now when kids ask "Are we there yet?", they're really asking, "Do we have time to watch another movie?"

Trips aren't measured by miles or landmarks any more; they're measured by movie length. From Columbia, The Sound of Music can pretty much cover any trip within this state's borders. The first and second Toy Story can get us to the beach, and Cars can get us to Spartanburg. Disney World was a bit more challenging. Movies have to be timed with gas and restroom stops, but it can be done.

Admittedly, even though most parents aren't watching these movies with their kids and, hopefully, no drivers are, the DVD player may be more for the parents than it is for the kids. We like to act like we're giving our children some great gift by sticking in a movie, but the truth is, we'd rather hear a little mermaid battling a sea witch than our kids battling boredom on a two-hour journey.

I am troubled by the phenomena DVD players are creating. It's kind of like the Internet. I can't live without it, but I'm pretty sure the information superhighway is going to be the death of us all. No one should have that much stuff available to them at the touch of a button, but maybe that's what they used to think about the calculator.

The fact my kids may never know what the shoulder of an interstate looks like may not be such a disturbing thing. I know every pine tree from Columbia to Birmingham and I'm not sure what purpose that has served me in life. I know when The Gay Dolphin billboards start popping up alongside the road, the beach is getting closer. My kids wouldn't know The Gay Dolphin from a South of the Border sign. Again, should that really bother me?

A bad sense of direction can be overcome with a map, but patience is a virtue. Nothing taught me patience more than an eight-hour trip to the beach in 1976 when the biggest thrill during the drive was spotting a license tag from Alaska. The only thing teaching my kids patience is when they have to wait for me to figure out how to get the DVD player to work. I'll admit that does require a substantial amount of patience sometimes, but watching my frustration and technical buffoonery is much more entertaining than row after row of evergreens.