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Scenes from a roadtrip
2006-02-07 ~ 4:09 p.m.

So yeah, Dad and Greg and I drove from Baltimore to Alabama Saturday. And back again Monday. 1700 miles total. The following are some of the highlights. Or lowlights, as the case may be. Keep in mind that I, for one, was operating on very little sleep. I woke up at 8am Friday morning and didn't really get any decent sleep until getting back home Monday night. With that being said, please understand the high level of silliness as displayed in the following vignettes.

We stopped Saturday morning at Bob Evans for breakfast. (Yes, the diet went completely out the window this weekend. Shut up.) Dad is reading from the menu, "Well, I can get two buttermilk pancakes, French toast or fruit CRAP?"

At first, I merely roll my eyes. Because I am way too familiar with Dad's tendency to deliberately misread and/or mispronounce things. But then, something about the way he said it just got me to giggling. And then I couldn't stop and I was snorting and had tears streaming down my face. Dad's all, "What's so funny?" and every time I try to tell him I just start cracking up again. I gesture to Greg to fill him in but Greg says, "Oh no, it's all you." So finally, I stop laughing long enough to repeat what he had said. And that incident set the tone for the rest of the trip.

So we're on the road and we're high up on some mountain highway and Greg looks out the windown and sees down in the valley what must have been the hugest Wal-Mart ever because he exclaims, "Look!! It's a giant Wal-Mart!!" and I crane my neck to see (Dad's driving, I'm riding shotgun, Greg is in the back seat looking out the driver's side.) "I can't see the Wal-Mart," I whine and Greg says, "It's right over there, you can't miss it, it's big and blue" but I still can't see it so he whips out his phone and takes a picture but it doesn't come out so Dad says, "Well, maybe there's a scenic Wal-Mart overlook around here somewhere" so we start looking for the pull off point where we could all get pictures of ourselves pointing to the giant Wal-Mart but amazingly enough we couldn't find such a look out. Very disappointing.

So after lunch, I'm driving and TRYING not to become asphyxiated by Dad's cigar smoke. I'd roll the windows down sporadically but because the heater seemed to be broken, I didn't keep them down for very long (and here seems to be the right place for me to aplogize to James and Jacki because I was constantly IMing or texting my complaints to them. Sorry if I grew tiresome, guys.)

Anyway, I'm driving, I look out the window, I see cows, I say, "Moo." Dad says, "Huh? Wha?" and again, I say, a bit more emphatically, "Moo!" and again, Dad with the not getting it, so I point and shout, "MOO!! MOO!! MOO!!!" and finally he understands.

So Dad says, "You ever notice that every time you see cows, they're always eating? What do they do when they're not eating?"

"Um? They play kickball?"

"Really?"

"No! I have no idea, Dad."

"No really, what do they do, what do they think about, do they ever get bored? I know, maybe they play Cowboys and Indians? Or would that be Boy Cows and Indians? Except boy cows aren't called cows, are they? They're bulls or steers. Steers are castrated bovines. Do you know what they call castrated horses? They're geldings. Race horses are always gelded. Except sometimes they're not. Sometimes they keep uncastrated race horses for stud."

Dear God I WISH I was making this up.

But now I'm wondering, really, what DO cows do when they're not eating. So I'm looking out the window, looking to see whether I can see any non-eating cows and sure enough, I see one.

"HEY DAD!!! I see a cow, it's standing there in that creek, THAT must be what cows do when they're not eating, they SWIM!!!"

Yeah. So we were getting a bit loopy by this point.

(We interrupt this travelogue to bring you this brief observation: Smirnoff Ice (Watermelon) + Weight Watchers blueberry Muffin = Best. Snack. Ever. Maybe. More likely though, I was just really hungry.)

Dad and Greg and I did battle over the radio. Dad wanted classic rock but apparently his definition of classic rock differs from ours. Because we were listening to Light My Fire and Dad said, "What's this shit?" and we said, "Uh? The Doors" and Dad said, "Aww....can't we listen to some classic rock already?" But Dad, The Doors are pretty much the definition of Classic Rock. It doesn't GET more classic than that.

Yeah, turns out he wanted Barry Manilow and Neil Diamond. Ugh.

When it was Greg's turn to drive, he turned on XM Channel 150 which is their stand up comedy channel. Uncensored. So Dad complained about the "filthy comedy". Heh. Then I took the wheel and he had to listen to hip hop. And he started whining, "Can't we go back to the dirty comedy". Ha!!

Okay, that's it for tonight. Tomorrow, the trip back.

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