Arrival to Quebec City

We wind through the dark streets of Quebec City. I know we are headed to a school, maybe a seminary, and will be sleeping in a large common room, but right now I am just following the bumper sticker n the car in front of me and listening to the CB for directions. In six days these places won't look so foreign to me, but for now I have no idea where I am.

Frenchy gives the final instruction and we enter the steep driveway down and around the school. The parking is not designed for anything larger than a Mini Cooper, so it takes me a couple moments to finagle the Flex into the parking spot market. It is marked reserved, with a few accents to remind us it is the French version of the word.

We are tired and ready to get out of the car. I hop out and see Frenchy and a few other parents getting a tour f the facility. I hear that we are to wait for them, but they are taking a long time. I walk and look, return to the car and take a look again. The ride has been good, but a little long and we are all antsy. Some of the other adults join the tour, others sit on their tailgates, I can see in the back a few walking around and talking.

Ten minutes, fifteen minutes pass and we don't see any progress. Ryan, Alex and Kory, the boys who have ridden with us are getting fidgety and irritated, so I allow them to get out of the car. I hop out and go look to see if they are getting close. I look through the glass and realize I can't tell by the glob of people talking how close they are.

Then I hear it. A woman I don't really know is yelling at Kory, then yells at her husband about how Kory talked back to her. I can tell Kory is mad, and he probably did talk back, but this woman, in my opinion, is loosing it. If I new her, I might understand or would be able to diffuse, but I don't. She then goes back to yelling about how they are not supposed to get out of the car; not to me, but to Kory.

I can't do anything about her, the adult who had the luxury to get out of her car and wonder the parking lot and sit on her tailgate and wonder why a boy can't stay put in a still car, he has been in for hours, for an unknown amount of time. I can though, ask the boys to get back into the car. I can tell Kory she is tired and cranky just like he is and that even if she is wrong, he should try to be nice. I can join them in the car and try to see about a legal way to let them free. I do all of these things, but I am worried immediately about what I have gotten myself into.