Finally where we should be

Rory's own personal Moby Dick

"Why again aren't we taking a plane?" Rory complained, carrying her bag to the jeep in a bad mood because of the alarm clock that buzzed at 7 am and deprived her of more hours of sleep. The final preparations for the trip to Nantucket started early because Luke insisted they should be on the road at 8 o'clock sharp. The young Gilmore girl considered skipping shower or breakfast to lay in bed a little more, but both were needed for her dignity. Especially when Emily Gilmore was waiting at the end of the journey.

"Luke is afraid of planes," Lorelai replied in the same level of crankiness as her daughter, heading back to the house to get one more bag.

"I'm not afraid of planes," Luke protested from the porch. "I used to fly to see April when Anna moved to New Mexico."

"And you always got nervous and all sweaty days before, repeating how those metal things were heavy and not made to fly."

"Now everything makes sense." Rory butted in. "It's the only reasonable explanation for someone to rip us out of bed so early and willingly get stuck in a car with us for five hours."

"I'm not scared of flying!" The man scoffed, following the girls to the living room. "It is for Bennie's safety. The air is compressed in those things. It is probably not good for the baby."

"According to my doctor, there's no risk before 34 weeks," Rory smiled at Luke and patted his arm, lowering her voice furtively to speak again with the diner owner. "But your secret is safe with us, big guy."

Five minutes before the departure time, the car was already packed. Luke was so glad to be on schedule he even let it pass how the girls apparently were carrying their entire wardrobe in the limited space of the jeep. It didn't seem like they forgot anything. Still, Lorelai showed up outside with one more bag.

"I think we should have rented a yellow VW bus and embraced the Little Miss Sunshine vibe. We are only three people, but we're clearly dysfunctional and in need of the extra room," Rory mocked.

"Perhaps then I'd get to compete in a beauty pageant and dance Superfreak on stage," Lorelai clicked her tongue. "Anyhow, this is special for you."

An expression of puzzlement crossed Rory's face. Her mother carried on.

"You, pregnant lady, certainly is not considering your tummy might not be that much tolerant of roadhouse food right now. So I arranged some delicious and very healthy snacks, sandwiches and beverages, just in case those Buffalo chicken wings don't look good. I also packed some nausea medication because if you are planning to read that book I saw you grab in a moving car, well, let's just say you'll definitely need it."

"Aww..."

Before Rory could say something mushy, Lorelai resumed.

"... And I also put some emergency adult diapers in there." She added with a playful grin on her face and pulled the package out of the bag.

"You're messing with me, right? Because I freaked out last night watching Elizabeth Banks wet her pants in What to expect when you're expecting..." Rory responded with irritation.

"Am I?" Lorelai tilted her head. "That scene was a real demonstration of how your bladder can't be trusted at the moment. Oh boy, I wish I had a warning like that."

"I'm only starting the second trimester. There isn't a full baby in here yet to press my bladder. I think I can manage."

"For all the books you read about pregnancy, you should know there's more blood flowing inside you. You are already peeing for two. Plus, it's 200 miles on the road and we don't know if the bathrooms are in a good shape. We could run into some filthy outlaw motorcycle gang toilets along our journey, missy. Hasn't backpacking through Europe taught you anything? It's better safe than sorry. Believe me: peeing your clothes is way more embarrassing than the diapers. And explaining you peed yourself to grandma is probably worse than the nightmare you speak naked in front of an audience full of Trump supporters."