My high school gal pals Brenda, Ellen, Jill and Lori, all from the Hanover area, last month took a 36-hour trip to remember.


Ellen, the alpha female, read somewhere that one of the 100 things a woman should do before she dies is to drive in New York. I guess that means even if she dies doing so.


Besides busting through the toll booth on the way without paying, making an illegal U-turn and almost running over a schnauzer and its owner, she did a fabulous job proving herself to be a true New York driver.


Oh, and she did this while occasionally wearing a blinking Rudolph nose and belting out “Redneck Woman.”


I had black-and-blue marks on my leg from Jill grabbing it out of sheer terror; but we all survived.


And oh, we had a blast.


What was most striking is how we fit back into our old roles; how 30 years dissolved in minutes.


We all hit public school in the mid-1970s, with me coming from a different Catholic grade-and-middle school than they. We glommed together; I think it was because we didn’t know the other kids who had come up through public schools.


Since graduation in 1978, so much has happened.


College, happy marriages, divorces, remarriages, babies, miscarriages, careers and travels.


We didn’t see much of one another over the years.


And then here we were last month crammed in a marginal, but affordable, hotel room on West 48th Street with two double beds (Alpha Ellen slept on the floor).


We checked the sheets. We had heard about the city’s recent bedbug problem.


Brenda suddenly checked Lori’s hair and yelled “bedbug.” Then: “Kidding.”


Lori went through the ceiling and the rest of us were on the floor.


Talking at the same time, we got ready to unleash ourselves on an unsuspecting city.


It felt so familiar. The only thing missing was the powder-blue eye shadow and Aerosmith on eight-track.


Earlier, Ellen had told us that our classmate Steve said we would be “Li’l Abners in the city.”


OK, so maybe he had a point.


Weary from a day of shopping and a Broadway show, we jumped into a cab that, as it turned out, wasn’t a cab but a Crown Victoria driven by some guy who said he was a cabby.


He charged us $22 more than a normal cab (as we learned later).


Then Brenda, who knows the city fairly well, tsked-tsked me for buying a NYFD hat from a fast talker on the street.


No matter. He and the pseudo cab driver represent free enterprise. Had the driver been dangerous, there were enough of us to beat him up or worse, sing “Redneck Woman” to him.


Our finale was standing outside NBC’s Rockefeller Plaza Studio for the Sunday “Today Show.” Sure enough, we we got on for a few seconds. I think the Rudolph nose had something to do with it.


I tried to get out of it and sleep in, but Lori gave me the laser eyes and said there was no way I was not going.


I obeyed.

As Ellen is the alpha, Lori is the disciplinarian. Jill is our kind heart and Brenda is our planner. Me, I am just grateful.


It was the best 36 hours in a long time and underscored how true friendship survives distance and time.


But next time Ellen, can we take the train?




Patricia Poist is a staff writer for the Living section. Write to her at: ppoist@lnpnews.com..500 blog comments powered by Disqus