The Road Trip Chronicles: Onward to Texas!

Spring Break, fun. Road Trip, awesome. These are generally the unconscious connotations that arise out of the cerebral ether when these terms are heard, especially when they appear in each others company. Well, I am here to tell you that even the best things you can imagine like clear coke, windows vista, and nuclear power... can go terribly and utterly wrong.

Our tale begins at the University of Florida, the school that brought us Gatorade, in the state that brought us the Bush Administration (your welcome future dystopian USA). While a student at said institution dedicated to irresponsible sexual behavior, public inebriation and the steadfast worship of our lord and preserver Tim Tebow I was presented with the opportunity to ride along with a couple of friends to Texas. Now, I am not usually one for social spontaneity but, I had just seen the film Road Trip and it seemed like I had been unambiguously groped by fate. At the moment it seemed like a great idea. Everything would be taken care of, the car... check, the gas.... check, food...check. This all made it seem like a perfect scenario in light of the fact that I had a negative bank account and nothing in my pocket but some gum wrappers and a paper clip. So, like the prospective producer of a Kim Kardashian track I was like, "What's there to think about?"

So, we all hopped in an absolutely uninspected older SUV (we thought the rusted holes in the fenders gave it a charming worn, vintage character that agreed with our asthetic sensibilities) and took flight to the magical and heavily armed land of Texas. If we were ever going to make it west we had to first make it out of Florida. The gas light came on about half an hour from the Georgia state line. Cue the dense, crawling cloud of disgusting winged insect life. Okay, so in case you ever find yourself in this situation take note, biblical plagues are usually not a promising omen. It's probably best to turn around at this point and settle for a blockbuster night or some wholesome board game fun among friends. But we were too bold to change course and to brave to give up on this adventure.

Louisiana is a very special place, and by special I mean populated heavily by genetically exceptional (extra chromosome) mouth breathing cannibals. And when our internal combustion powered death trolley showed the first signs of its aggressively terminal engine cancer we were promptly (6 hours later/full French workday) rescued by Bob. Now Bob is a fascinatingly complex and charming character so any attempt at a concise description will fall epically short of the mark but I'll say this... It is because of Bob that I could never fully buy into the series True Blood, because I was like, "This is total crap! Where are the zombie tow truck drivers? Why aren't they represented? Why is their story not being told?". And as uncomfortable as that long, awkwardly silent and delightfully fragrant ride(engine oil and deer urine) was with the three of us crammed into the passenger seat all I felt was sympathy for the friend who had to sit next to Bob. Let me just say that she was straddling the stick and there was a lot of completely unnecessary gear shifting to accompany the persistent topic of how "Purrdy" she was. Alas, after much deliberation and expertly indiscriminate engine banging in a Wal Mart Parking lot, I concluded that it could be the battery ( I know, I'm not a mechanic...I am a technician). Why were we so intent on getting back on that landmine cobbled road to hell I don't know, but we were off.

To Be Continued.