Texas, maybe you should be your own country

So, as all you know, Mommy and I drove back from FL. We had several different routes we could take (each depending on the weather that base camp - namely, Daddy at home - predicted). Smart, eh? Well, the one that seemed easiest and most unlikely to get nailed by a snowstorm took us through Dallas, TX. Since it was just us two girls, we decided to stop in the evenings so that we didn't have to navigate an unknown city in the dark. Base camp would call and set us up a reservation in our intended stopping city, and then we would find the hotel. It was great system, and had proved trustworthy the night before. But of course, we were still in FL then. The second night we stopped in TX.
I don't know how many of you have driven through Dallas, but I'm reminded of a great saying that Ellen Sanborn once came up with on the fly - "When musicians suddenly run out of work, the only place that seems willing to hire them is the state transportation department to design interstates." Hence the pretty designs they make against the sky, but the utter confusion and near despair they inspire in those actually trying to drive them.
Since we knew that Daddy had found us a hotel, we decided to push through a little bit longer than we normally would have. So, by the time we were trying to navigate through the twisted, multi-level, poorly marked Dallas highway, it was already dark. Oops.
Of course, the particular highway that we had to get on was under construction, and Texan drivers seem almost as sporadic as Floridian drivers (most of whom would be considered elderly). So as Mom tried to keep us from getting hit by crazy people who considered the dotted line down the middle of the road mere suggestion, I was trying to find our exit on one of the itty-bitty pieces of metal they call exit markers.
Finally, we found it. The sideroad that took us to the hotel was a small improvement - there were fewer cars on this confusing and under-marked road. We made our way toward what we thought was our hotel - but alas, there had been a mix-up with the directions, and it was not our hotel!
Mom decided that the best bet would be to continue down the road - maybe we chose the wrong parking lot. But as we tried that, we were forced (very much against our will) to get back on to the highway of despair! Both of us cried aloud, and Mom took the first exit we could. While she pulled into the nearest parking lot (a McDonalds very conveniently placed), placed her head in her hands, and began trying to breath systematically, I called Daddy.
However, there is a reason that he was our base camp. In only a few moments, he was able to give us precise directions to the correct hotel. This time, we kept him on the line.
After several more confusing and dismaying experiences on the highway the next morning, we did successfully manage to escape from the randomness and craziness of Dallas highways into the flat and windy solace of Oklahoma. It was glorious. But after our little escapade in Dallas, I think maybe we should allow Texas to be it's very own country....their interstates might be contagious.