Road Trip 2006

I left Thursday morning for Denver. No, wait, I left for Atlanta Thursday morning. Denver didn’t come until much, much later.

I had half an hour between connecting flights. My flight leaving Tampa was delayed for 45 minutes, so by the time I arrived in Atlanta my connecting flight had been gone for 15 minutes.

I got a voucher for $7 for lunch (which cost $8.97 by the way) and a new boarding pass for a flight leaving at 3:30 p.m.

It was 9:30 a.m. at this time. Those hosebags made wait in Atlanta for SIX hours.

I swear, I am spending the extra $100 for the direct flight next time.

I mean as I was sitting on the runway in Tampa, I already knew I had missed my flight. What can you do, you know? If you were the guy behind me, you could complain, bitch, moan, yell and be a general ass crack monkey.

When that dude got up to go to the bathroom, I accidentally punched him in the stomach while stretching.

No, seriously, it was accidentally. I think I was hurt worse. My wrists snap like dry twigs yo.

After arriving at the Atlanta airport, I had to call my friend Rachel to tell her I would be late. Except I had forgotten to write her number down so had to call friend Selena to get the digits.

Ok, so I have no change and no cell phone, so pay phone it is. I decide to charge the calls to my debit card.

Those cock sucking ball licking hosebags charged me $15 for the first minute and $1 each additional.

Santa Maria!

So I spent $37 for two phone calls. Do you know how many Totino’s pizzas I could buy with $37? It’s like 37 of them.

Shoot.

I get on my overcrowded, kids yelling flight to Denver and I cannot wait to get off of that plane.

I arrived in Denver at 5:30 p.m. and here was the plan. Get in car, leave Denver, drive to Miami. How is that even hard?

I was helping my friend Rachel drive the car along with her mother Esther. So I hop into this car exhausted and Rachel and her mom are having some sort of argument. Rachel is crying and they are not speaking to each other.

When I say crying, I mean sobbing.

Shoot.

I wanted to get back on that overcrowded plane and take my tired ass back to Tampa.

15 minutes of silence, punctuated by sobs.

Then the yelling started. Now my Spanish is not to good, I mean bueno, but I figured out enough to know this was not happy yelling. I’m very perceptive that way. Here are the words/phrases I recognized:

Oh my god
Door
Please
How
Why
Brown

Mmm hmm.

We pull over and I say I will drive - because I've only spent the last 14 hours at airports/planes, sure, why not?

I will tell you why not. I have never driven anything bigger than a Dodge Neon and now I am suddenly driving a Jeep Grand Cherokee with a u-haul attached to the back. Also? I have poor depth perception. Also? It is very windy. Every time a truck passes me, I suffer a small stroke.

15 minutes later they had made up. This continued for the next 2,134 miles.

I was warned “what happens in the car, stays in the car”. We’ll see about that, I will not be silenced!

We stopped at a casino in Shreveport, LA for a SUPER buffet. Is this what all casino buffets are like? It was overwhelming having 3,749 items to chose from. Then Esther wanted to play the slots and I thought, why not, I want to play too! So after losing $10.25, I thought how is this fun? No, really, how is it fun? I mean if you win, I suppose, but just sitting there pulling the lever, there isn’t even any skill or math involved.

Whatever.

Then we get back on the road and around Baton Rouge, I am beat and let Esther drive. I get in the backseat and pass out.

Now here’s a fun fact: Esther is terrified in bridges. Well wouldn’t you know, there is a 7 mile bridge in Baton Rouge. I wake up to yelling and more yelling.

Crap on a stick.

We get across that bridge and Esther gets out of the car and refuses to get back in, saying she is going to buy a ticket to Puerto Rico (where she is from, fyi). Rachel is outside arguing with her and I am just sitting in the car, trying to teleport myself back to Tampa.

Teleportation is yet another superpower I do not possess.

I get out and tell Esther that she cannot stand outside because it isn’t a good neighborhood and she has red nails and people might mistake her for a hooker.

My humor is not appreciated.

Fine, but let it be noted that I am not appreciating the 38 degree weather in Baton Rouge.

Somehow we all get back in the car. There are a few more fights, but we manage to make it to Tampa alive.

So ends the Great Denver 2006 roadtrip.


2006-02-13 at 2:15 p.m.