Long bridge ahead. Check fuel.

This can only be the smile of a man that has yet to experience driving to the Gulf Coast in traffic.

I was slathered in sunscreen, my new swimsuit finally getting its time to shine, water and Wheat Thins in hand, me and my Southern Charmer were ready to hit the beach. Having successfully passed the Meet the Mom Test, I didn't have a care in the world. Seth and I had waited one long month to have some couple time, and we were finally getting it.

Without about five gazillion other drivers surrounding us.

Normally I hate sitting in traffic. I really don't know who sits there and actually says, "Gosh. I am so happy that I am sitting in traffic right now. There is no other place I'd rather be."

And if you are one of those people, perhaps you should get your head checked.

But on the three hour trek to the Gulf Coast, creeping along at a snail's pace, there was no place I'd rather be. The sun was shining brightly, reflecting off the water in such a way that you'd probably have to be on some pretty good drugs to think Lake Michigan ever did that. The light breeze filled the rental car with the scent of sun and sand and everything Florida. And there were Seth and I. In our own little world.

Surrounded by a universe called a traffic nightmare.