Anatomy of a Road Trip

Answer phone. My side of conversation is as follows:
“You do realize that driving to Miami takes two and a half hours and you want me there by six…And I haven’t showered…Since Saturday…What? You want me to be the voice of reason to 60 hysterical sorority girls? Do they have valium prescriptions?…Damn.”

Shower. Skip all non-essential steps like using soap, razor, shampoo and/or conditioner. This is just to get the worst of the stink off. Maybe the remaining smell will knock out the women and thus subdue hysterics…

Put on clothes. Without drying off. Undies remain stuck to bottom in uncomfortable jacked up position for next 4 hours. Later, realize I do not match. This will establish so much credibility with hysterical sorority girls…

Get in car. Drive like woman possessed.

Turn around, return home. One does not go on a road trip without CDs.

CD case located, back on road.

Drive to Dayton.
Construction…construction…construction…construction…Wright Pat…Construction…Get out of my way, I am trying to make up for lost time…Construction…Slam on break; that looks like a cop…Crisis adverted, not the po-po…Construction…Am I there yet?…Call Debi, directionally-aware friend, to try to determine proper exit location…Construction…

Lose Columbus radio…time to listen to CDs. Get CD from CD visor holder thingie. First up, some mood music. Put in the Sorority Party Favor CD circa 1999ish. Included for my listening pleasure…
• Crazy: Britney Spears’ anthem to/about herself.
• Bye, Bye, Bye: Justin’s foreshadowing hint to Britney. After 16 seconds, hit next track button to avoid boy-band induced insanity.
• Rump Shaker: Maybe rump shaking while driving in a car should be limited to non-construction zones.
• Gimme Dat Nut: All I need are some sistas, some alcohol, and a table top…
• The Thong Song: Miami girls unite!
• Ice, Ice Baby: The original lyrical poet and my personal rap hero. If only I had half his late ‘80s/early ‘90s coolness.
• Living on a Prayer: Law school exam mantra-ish song. Quickly skip before my brain becomes overcome with UCC sections and paralyzing fear of failing criminal law.
• Sweet Home Alabama: Turn it up…the windows are vibrating…I will shortly be horse from screaming lyrics I was brainwashed with for four years…

I’m close. I know I am close. If I go too far, per Debi, I will be in Indiana. Going to another state was not on my game plan for today. If I get to Indy, I have to turn around. Do not miss the exit. This isn’t Indy, right? I know the exit is after two bridges really close together. I remember bridges. Are those the bridges? When did they put up all these bridges? That’s six bridges. Sh!t!

Eureka! Found it after, like, 15 bridges equally spaced. Exit I-70.

When did this part become a one-lane road? Whose brilliant idea was this?

Eaton has gotten bigger. They have a Wal-mart! It’s a metropolis now!

Pizza Hut sign claims status as “Italian Bistro.” I think not…

Um, what’s with the one-lane roads people? Seriously. This is the only place in Ohio with one-lane roads in the middle of a perfectly good two-lane road. Gotta love ODOT’s brainpower.

Arrive. Miraculously find parking space. Apparently, I have previously sacrificed enough beer money to the College Parking God that He deems me worthy of blessing me with a parking spot within 9,843,501,279,090 yards of my destination (or maybe He’s setting me up for another parking ticket, but my car isn’t registered so who cares…Muwahahahahaa…).

Crisis management skills tested by 60 hysterical sorority girls. Having successfully averted sorority girl melt-down, I know I can simultaneously negotiate peace in the Middle East, de-nuke Iran, and end the Trump/Stewart standoff. Condie doesn’t have anything on me, baby!

Go to bathroom. Girl is puking two stalls down. Just another meal at Miami.

Drive through Uptown in an attempt to bring about nostalgic feeling. First Year Fun is gone. Budding nostalgic feeling quashed by the loss of site of many fond townie-related memories.

Arrive Bagel and Deli.

Scarf down Bagel and Deli. Nothing like that steamed bagel sandwich goodness. Could only be better if I were also holding an open container and trying to outrun the Oxford PD.

Depart Oxford.

I hate one-lane roads!!! Die ODOT DIE!!!

Enter Eaton. Hmmm, I see the St. Clair Hotel is doing well. There’s still “No Vacancy…”Ahhh, The Stable. Scene of one questionable 21st Birthday Extravaganza Excursion pit stop. Mentally renew blood vow never to reveal details of The Stable Occurrence. Nostalgic feeling wells..

Pass Taco Bell, aka Home of 1998’s Great Exploding Taco Fiasco.

Refill gas for $2.99 a gallon. They’ve got a captive market. Damn them. Nostalgic feeling crushed by unreal gas prices. Get back on I-70.

Construction…Construction…Call Kelly…Call Jill…Try to call Kelly again to tell her funny thing I forgot to tell her the first time but don’t scroll far enough in phonebook and due to driving/darkness don’t notice so call wrong person…Feel dumb…Successfully call Kelly. Forget what was going to tell her due to dumb feeling. Feel dumber. Give up on phone…Construction…Construction…I’m going to poke my eyes out because I have nobody to talk to…Construction…Time for more CDs.

Discover CD case is empty due to iTunes uploading mission. Scream in frustration…Construction…Consider if musicless car ride on I-70 would justify suicide.
Decide orange construction barrel not stable enough to kill me if I plow into it and veto idea…Construction…

9: 48
Arrive home. Note to self: fumigate car tomorrow. Between personal stench and Bagel and Deli related intestinal track disruption, car is no longer a pleasant environment.


One Response to “Anatomy of a Road Trip”

  1. jcrewcowgirl Says:

    Dude. That was freaking hilarious. I almost peed my pants reading that. How I miss those Miami days…

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