Traveling down towards the Cincinnati Museum is usually a very dull trip. The highways are always crowded with speeding cars and trucks that release black fumes when they switch gears. The trip in 2004 was anything but unexciting. My father had just left for Kosovo and my grandfather, who has been diagnosed with bipolar, had come down to stay with us for a week and during that week we decided we would see what was currently at the museum as an exhibit.
By the time we were in the car and making our way to Cincinnati my grandfather was starting to show symptoms that are common among people with Bipolar Disorder. We thought we still had enough time left before his rationality completely left his mind but we were completely wrong. As he was sitting in the backseat with my younger brother, who was still in a car seat at the time, my grandfather started tightening my brother’s seat belt until my brother was in tears. He finally released my brother’s seat belt after my mother and I both screamed at him to stop but it turns out he wasn’t done. When he tried to put my seat belt on me he decided the only way I would listen to him is if he grabbed a hold of my pony tail through the headrest and pulled it back and through the opening. My mother slammed on her breaks and pulled over to the side of the freeway to yell at her father.
The scariest part about my mother doing the maneuver was that an eighteen wheeler was right behind us and could have easily slammed into the back of us as she pulled off the to the side.
Labels: Alarmed in Cincinnati