Colleen turns to me in the car and says, “It’s good to turn the car into a broomstick.”
We are packed and ready. We are leaving today for Winter Witch Camp. It’s that time before a weekend of story and ritual and myth and diving down when you don’t quite know what is going to happen, and some of it will definitely be awesome and some of it will be a surprise suck of confronting fear or shame and clearing that shit out.
We are breathing into it, though. “We are bringing the magic,” she says. “We are answering the needfire rune.” We are also blaring the lady power music- Brandi Carlile and Alison Krauss and as we pull up to her friend Betsy’s house, Melissa Etheridge, who is singing “Come to my Window.” So Colleen rolls my window down and we lean out together and sing at the top of our lungs “Come to my Window! Crawl inside, wait by the light of the moooo-ooon!!”
Colleen gets out into the snowy Minneapolis morning and helps Betsy huck her big ole bag to the trunk and it’s like 15 degrees outside so I push the button to roll up my window.
And it doesn’t work. I must be hitting the button wrong. I do it again. Oh! I know. Colleen bumped the child lock with her elbow. I lean over and push that. Nothing. Push it again. Nothing. Also the controls on the driver’s side don’t work.
The freezing fucking cold air is pouring into the car. We have a two-hour drive into Central Wisconsin ahead of us.
Have I mentioned that I am from Arizona?
Colleen drops into the driver’s seat, grinning. “Um,” I say. “How come I can’t roll my window up?”
Colleen tries my control. Hers. She looks at me. Tries them both again. “Oh shit,” she says. “None of them are working. Oh my god. This has never happened before. We must have blown a fuse.”
I put on my scarf.
Colleen starts looking for the fuse panel and I get on my phone to Yelp some service stations because I sure as fuck don’t carry spare fuses in my car, so I assume Colleen doesn’t. She can’t find the fuse panel. She googles how to find the fuse panel. I find a service station with lots of stars that Betsy says is good. Colleen says “Oh, let’s just go.”
She starts the car. My window goes up.
For fuck’s sake.
I sure hope the needfire isn’t calling our ordinary common sense, because apparently that doesn’t come standard with a broomstick.