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"You brought a grill (for a backpacking trip)?" I called out.

Within a moment, there were backpacks, tents, a torn blue tarp, and a spilled bag of corn chips strewn about Joe's driveway. "Ah…" says Warren, "There's the little stinker!"

With hibachi in hand and an I'm-gonna-miss-this-steak-tonight-look written all over his face, Warren brings the potential fireball to my van and says, "Would you mind bringing the Hibachi to Maine? It really smells up my car." (7:47 A.M.)

I'm amazed by what's unfolding before my eyes. I've never seen such a smooth and relentless chaos undermine six months of detailed planning. I check the time: 8:03 A.M.

I feel a frenzied chill seep into my body. I feel emotionally immobile. I find it difficult to breathe. I'm obsessing about one thought, "What about the plan! What about the plan! What about the plan…"

Roger and Larry have not uttered a word since breakfast. They have become onlookers in an arena of comic error. Beads of sweat begin to form on Roger's brow. He's beginning to realize the truth about the Katahdin Boys. They are Laurel and Hardy in two Dodge Caravans. They are the Skipper, Gilligan and Mrs. Howell all rolled up into one! Roger begins to look anxious. He dips his head and places his hands over his face. Intuitively, Larry offers Roger comfort by distracting him from the "melt down" in vehicle #2 by saying, "Maine has Moose. I'm gonna see a moose. Do you wanna see a moose? I wanna see a moose. Maine has Moose…" (8:11 A.M.)

There is more.

Interested in how we will communicate between vehicles, Steve sustains the madness and our delayed departure by chiming in, "Who's got cell phones?"

"I've got one," I offered.

"I've got one too," says Steve, "but it's back at Warren's house." (8:20 A.M.)

OK. We've eaten our breakfast. We are on the road. But, we're on the road back to Warren's house to get Steve's cell phone. Incidentally, Larry (who's in my car) lives next to Warren. So, this is our second trip across Town!

At Warren's (8:37 A.M.), Warren is hauling his hibachi into the garage and returning his steak to the refrigerator. Steve is cussing because he can't find his phone. He's blaming one of us for taking his phone without asking (like always…), and then he's emptying his pack onto the driveway in search of the blasted thing!

Thank goodness. He finds it. He apologizes (again) for assuming that we would borrow (steal) his gear without asking. We exchange phone numbers. It appears that we are on our way. My hand (again) is on the shifter. I have a vision of driving to Maine. But again, I sense a disturbance in "The Maine Moose Force." And, then… Joe sheepishly says, "I forgot my walking stick. Would you guys… err… terribly mind if we go back to my house (BACK ACROSS TOWN FOR THE THIRD TIME!)?" (8:48 A.M.)

This is freak'n unbelievable! We're going across town… Again… To get a freak'n stick? A STICK! A STICK!!

Silently, I'm going nuts! I must not let it show. The guru of lists, e-mails and organization cannot reveal any flaws or cracks in his persona. I must be strong for Roger and Larry!

"Sure…" I calmly say, "Get your stick. Get your freak'n stick!! I know how important that stick is to you… I'll tell ya what… We're going to Stewarts to get a coffee. We'll meet you guys (Warren, Joe and Steve) at the entrance ramp at exit 12."

Looking very relieved, Joe walks over to my van. He places a soft and trusting hand on my shoulder. I think he's going to give me one of those guy-bonding-hugs, and he says, "Will you get me a coffee and a bag of ice while you are at Stewarts?"

We were to leave at 7:00 and it is now 9:15 A.M.

It's very clear to me. We are never leaving for Maine.

(To be continued…)