RoadTrippin’ Chronicles I
I love road trips. They are all about doing many of the things that I love – bullshitting with friends, listening to music and napping. I have been on many in my lifetime, some with family others with friends and even a few animals mixed in. Each one has its own feel and there is always at least one memorable thing that happens. In addition to that there are opportunities to see new places and meet new people… then make fun of them. Ahhhhh the possibilities are endless with road trips – they are an affirmation that there are a ton of freaks all over the US and that I am glad that I live where I do. If I was not employed at the salt mine I would love to take a few months and bounce around the US with some friends and see things in the remote corners of the country that usually remain hidden (and in some cases should remain hidden). Almost every state I have visited or driven through has a memory - lets take a ride down road trip memory lane state by state.
Illinois – “Where the fuck are my shoes?”
As a child I hated waking up just as much as I do now. So picture this – I’m about 12 years old and my Dad and I are planning a trip to Peoria, IL to participate in a 5K race at Bradley University (where my brother went to college). He woke me up at the butt-crack of dawn and herded my sleep deprived little body into the car and I was comatose in the passenger seat immediately. After a couple hours of driving we stopped at a McDonald’s to get some food before the race and he prodded me awake. “Get your shoes on” he said “we’re going to get some Mickey D’s”. In my sleepy haze I scanned the floor of the car for my shoes… not there. We looked more… nothing. I was on the way to a race that I didn’t have any shoes for (did I mention I’m half Polish?) My dad had a mini-meltdown in the car and he dragged me into McDonalds and I enjoyed my sausage mcmuffin in my socks. At that point i realized I was worse than the barefooted shoeless yokels that inhabit most of Southern Illinois, because I should have known better. After that embarrassment I still was without footwear on my way to the race. As a last ditch effort we resorted to the only option that was open at 7AM on a Saturday in Eureka, IL – Woolworth. My dad bought me a pair of those white Keds that were probably women’s shoes and certainly were not meant for running – but I did run and I finished only to set up one final humiliation. We walked into Chili’s for lunch before we left and the girl that seated us had my exact same shoes on – Fuck my life.
Texas – “Where the fuck is the Cat?”
Later in life I moved from Chicago to San Diego with my girlfriend, our dog and our cat (and all of our earthly possessions) in a Jeep Cherokee and a U-haul trailer. We stopped after our second day of travel in Amarillo, Texas. Amarillo is such a weird city – it is basically an enlarged truck-stop with a few shitty houses scattered along the desolate arid landscape. We were exhausted and unloaded our necessities in the hotel and immediately went to bed. I vaguely remember my girlfriend getting up in the morning to let the dog out and coming back into bed. We awoke the next morning and were getting ourselves together to hit the road until we realized we were missing something… the cat. We tore apart the room searching but the cat was gone. Altogether we delayed our exit for over four hours looking for her – to no avail. In the end I reasoned with her that we would never find the cat and we should just go. I lied and said that the cat would probably be picked up by some friendly people and taken into their home. I knew though that cat was street pizza at best, coyote food at worst. The name of the cat you ask? Gypsy… go figure.
Pennsylvania – “Where the fuck is the piss?”
My family made a mistake in Pennsylvania that I will never make again – eating at a fast food restaurant that is actually connected to a gas station. Sweet Baby Jesus never intended Taco bell meat and a beef jerky displays to be that close to each other. As we were finishing our sumptuous psuedo-Mexican feast my Dad went to the restroom. As he was coming back to our seat he pulled me aside and told me to check out the guy with the sign in the bathroom and read what the guy had written. I was perplexed. I was half thinking that I was going to see one of the creepy guys who hands out mints and axe body spray but my Dad did not prepare me for what I did see. I turned the corner in the restroom and did one of those “I’m-not-looking-but-I-am-looking-to-read-your-fucked-up-sign” kind of glance over to his crudely written cardboard sign. It read “CLEAN PISS $40″. As I walked to the urinal I pondered why anyone would pay $40 for piss then I realized that he was selling to the truckers coming through for their drug tests. What a statement for free market economics. Where there is a need a market will form… wow… USA! USA! USA!
Throughout the year I will be going state by state chronicling my more ridiculous road trip experiences… stay tuned! Do you have any interesting road trip stories?
So not all of San Fransisco is gay but there is definitely a nice community called the Castro. When I was little, it was probably when I was 7 or 8, my parents took my siblings and i on BART (the metro system there) into San Francisco, I swear it was to see a 49ers superbowl parade but I could be wrong. But we got off at the wrong exit and was just going to walk to the next one because it was quicker, anyways we are riding up the escalator onto the main street and what did I see with my lil innocent eyes?! A firm man butt in assless chaps, then I try to divert my eyes and then I see a woman wondering around in pasties. Oh man it was so terrifying because most of the people were not young and cute. You’d think, that one would keep up on events in the neighborhood that you are visiting. It probably would have been good to know that the gay pride parade was happening.
I too have a pet that didn’t make it to the end of a trip. I was traveling with a little fighting fish named Henry, my cat Gilligan and my sis. My sister was young, too young to drive and she had come down to hang out in san diego and then we drove back up to my parents house. Well I had gotten super sick with some crazy flu. So we decided to stop because I couldn’t drive anymore, and we pulled off and stayed in a motel somewhere in the central valley. Now the central valley can get butt frozen cold, specially at night. And I was so sick and worrying about getting the cat and my sister up into the room okay, I forgot to grab my fish. The next morning after I spent an hour and half trying to get my cat to come out from behind the tv (I don’t know what that lil one fit her fat butt behind that dresser and tv that was bolted to the floor) We come out to the car and realize that the lil fishy was just sitting on the center console, frozen in time. We had to bury him by a tree, using a rock to dig out a spot and say a lil eulogy. It was so sad, but I still pass by that motel all the time and it reminds me of my lil fish. Gilligan is alive and well, she even survived another road trip like that. But she was not happy that we said in another cheap motel, she is kind of a princess like that.
Did your parents freak out? I could not even imagine the questions that popped into your mind as a kid seeing something like that. I bet you had some awkward conversations with them trying to explain that incident!
As for your fish, that sucks – even though that’s how the Gorton’s Fisherman started!
[...] Note: This is a continuation from a previous post about various road trip experiences I have had – if you have not read it you can catch up here. [...]