I started to jumble my words on the freeways heading into Chicago. Not truly badly, or to the point where I was nonsensical or in any way reminiscent of Steve Miller Band lyrics, but just enough that alarm bells started to ring.
So, while we were at McDonald’s, getting coffee, on the outskirts of town, Zara gently quizzed me.
‘Hey, what state is Hobart in?’
My mind was a foggy, cotton-wool blank.
‘Um… I know it’s not Western Australia, so maybe it’s… uh… fuck. I have no idea. Where is it?’
‘Tasmania,’ Zara said.
‘Oh! Yeah! Tasmania. That’s right. It’s the capital city of Tasmania. Well, I knew it wasn’t Western Australia.’
Even though there were only ten minutes to go to Gina Frangello’s house, it was unanimously decided at this point that Zara should take over the driving.