On The Road Again

You can’t really embark on a 33-hour drive without an impressive collection of stories on the other end. Buckle up, here are a few of the highlights:

We borrowed a bit of genius from the Kastelers and decided to vacuum pack our clothes – poor man style. Garbage bags, rubber bands and a vacuum. After half my closet reduced to an impressive 3-square foot blob that eerily resembled body parts in a lawn and leaf bag, I was sold on the space-saving idea and I was ready to vacuum pack toiletries, the Bosch, even one of us, if it bought us a little more room in the 318ti.

The morning of our departure, my parents came down to help with last-minute details (a tangent I cannot pursue because this is meant to be a funny post and if I dwell on their utterly amazing selflessness I will get weepy. Again.) and as space in the car rapidly diminished, Noah leaned against the hatchback as my dad handed him the last few items to be shoved into each nook and cranny. Finally, Noah had to throw his whole weight into the hatchback to get it closed.

In the first few miles of the trip, one such vacuum packed blob fell from its precarious perch above my head and spent the remainder of the drive slowly sucking in air and winnowing the passenger out of leg room to the point the driver’s seat actually became the desirable spot to occupy.

The remainder of the PMVPBs (poor man’s vacuum packed bags) were also guilty of sucking and upon our first night’s stop in Grand Island, NE, we determined it wise not to open the hatchback and disturb the growing beast. Which also meant no access to the overnight bag we’d packed with pajamas, a change of clothes, oh – you know, deodorant. I did have toothbrushes and toothpaste in my purse, so don’t fear, our dental well-being was not compromised, but just feel fortunate you didn’t have to meet us on the eastern half of these United States (sorry Bryan and Lauren).

Somewhere outside Chicago, Noah and I engaged in the following brilliant conversation:
A: “It basically blows my mind how much faster you can travel by plane. A flight to Chicago takes, what? Three hours? We’ve been on the road for two days.”
N: “Well, when you’re clipping along at roughly…”
A: “A few thousand miles per hour?”
PAUSE
N: “No. Um, more like 400.”
A: “Maybe I meant the Concorde. You don’t know that.”
N: “Even sound only travels at 700 mph.”
A: “Yeah, okay.”

And that pretty much sums of the highlights of the drive. We leave you now with a few stats and awards compiled mostly out of boredom.

Number of Stolen String Cheese: 2 (Noah slipped them into his pocket – I know, fishy right? – and forgot they were there until he reached in to retrieve the toll ticket in Indiana. He assures me stolen cheese tastes better than the kind you pay for. He feels bad for stealing the cheese but feels devilishly good about sticking it to Walmart.)

Friendliest Stranger: Produce Section Gentleman (We stopped dead in our tracks when we noticed the outrageously low price for oranges in WalMart and paused to debate it – healthier than the sugared candy segments; stickier, however. You know, typical oranges in the car conversations. That’s when the random fellow shopper interjected to see if we were looking for something in particular and could he help us find something? Not even an employee, this guy. Impressive. Maybe he was auditioning for a job there.)

Most Desperate Music Consumption: Lose Yourself – Eminem (Collin, this is on a mix you made for us one time. How did it get by us all these months? I leaned to change the song so we wouldn’t be overwhelmed by its awesomeness, until I realized 33 hours in a car is no time to be picky. Close contenders: Don’t Wanna Lose You Now – Backstreet Boys and Cookie Starts with C.)

Smelliest City: Ogalalla, NE

Most Excellent City Name: Buttzville, NJ