After a sleepless night in our cold RV, it was time to head to the field of the Fighting Irish. We picked up a few extra travel companions during the night.. I think because of the need for body heat. In any case, one of our guests did something we had forbidden before the trip in our tiny RV bathroom. To this day, the culprit will not come forward so we've accrued a plethora of twisted toilet theories. None of which I need to mention here - I do need to maintain some sort of integrity.
Pregaming, a big BC win, and many hours later, game day had come and gone. I don't need to get into specifics. After all, this is a travel blog not a tailgating blog. Although I do enjoy the latter activity almost as much as the former.
Fast-forward to 1 hour into the trip home. It's dark. Everyone's tired. Most people are hung-over as hell. The anticipation and excitement of the trip has lost its charm. We all secretly wish we had the ability to teleport. No one wants to steer this large vehicle anymore. Lucky me had never signed up for that task. My poor eye-sight and questionable driving skills quickly erased me from the driving line-up. We've spent enough quality time with each other for the rest of senior year. Is graduation tomorrow? Just kidding. I never once wished for that.. and in hindsight, really wish that Cher had found a way to turn back time.
We spent the night in Gates Mills again. Is this Groundhog Day? Why am I now Jekyll instead of Hyde? Do I really like the idea of this road trip? Do I even like to travel? Who signed my permission slip? After feeling like a caged animal for what seemed like years.. and just when we thought things couldn't get any worse.. CRASH.
Were we on the highway?
No.
Did we tango with a wild animal?
No.
Did we pull out of a gas station and hit a cement block?
YES!
Was the driver at the time on the driving insurance contract thingy?
NO!
Was the driver me?
NO.
That's all beside the point. We did arrive back in Boston in one piece. We got some sleep, loved each other again, used a real bathroom.. and the fact of that matter is: if I could do it all over again, would I?
Without a doubt.. one of the best trips of my life.
Oh, and I didn't really feel any of the negative emotions listed above - I love my friends dearly and only wish that Bacon would have been there to partake in the festivities.
Showing posts with label road trip. Show all posts
Showing posts with label road trip. Show all posts
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
D-R-I-V-in' the USA: Boston to South Bend
And the Holy War began on September 15, 1975. Since then, Boston College & Notre Dame have competed in 17 football games to battle for bragging rights and victory of the Vatican Bowl. Between 1992-2004, this momentous occasion became a highly anticipated annual event - and not just for the players and coaches.. but for all Screaming Eagle & Fighting Irish fans, old & young alike. Although we Super Fans have helped the boys in maroon & gold to victoriously take the last 5 games, the Irish are still holding onto the series by a thread.
As part of this customary tradition, when the kickoff is slated to occur in South Bend, Boston College's [primarily] junior and senior students make the trek out to the Midwest. There's no better way to celebrate than by cramming between 6 - 10 of your closest friends in a spacious RV.. To pioneer our escapade from Boston to South Bend in October of 2002, we used Cruise America out of Middleboro, MA.
If you can recall, in my post about our vacation quarters in Lagos, I was very impressed by the size of & space in the unit. Um, this was kind of like that.. if instead of college females in their last year before entering 'the real world', we were actually baby ants.
Get car sick? Be sure to bring this to the attention of your traveling companions well before mile 1, and not abruptly before your already inexperienced driver of monstrous vehicles tries to pull out onto the first major highway of the trip. Thank goodness that Massachusetts is renowned for its lack of road rage and inviting driving circumstances.
In any case, we got off without a hitch.. for the most part. Adrenaline flowing through our otherwise alcohol-energized bodies [remember, we were seniors in college], the 9 of us were having a blast. With a surplus of food & beverage options, car games, stories, coloring supplies [like I said, remember: we're seniors in college] & trinkets to carry us across the Mass Pike, into New York State, and through the eerie & Amish Pennsylvania countryside, we were just living life on the road. The way truckers do. Except without cigarettes, beards, or flannel.
Once we reached Ohio, we decided to head to roommate Mary's house in Gates Mills. It was dark, late and we all wanted to use a real bathroom*. Enter problem 1: As we turn off the exit, we had noticed a different feel to the way our motor home was riding.. lo' and behold - flat tire. Now, being the good-natured Midwestern folks that they are, Mary's parents came out to help us.. here's a glimpse into their conversation upon reaching our troubled vehicle:
[Imagine this exchange in a Midwestern accent]
Diane: What are we gonna do, Charrrles? Oh no, that's bad. How are we going to fix it?
Charles: I don't know, Diannnne. What am I - the Good Year answer maannn?
[Words elongated for accurate reflection of accent.. help me out here.]
Eventually, we make it to Mary's house. We have a good sleep, a hearty breakfast, and get on the road early the next morning to make it to Indiana by dusk. All that I can remember upon arrival in South Bend is the Walmart parking lot which resembled an endless sea of RVs, and a night of drinks at "The Library" to unwind from our journey. Note, it was very cold that October night.. sleep before the big game didn't come without a price.
Stay tuned for Game Day & Return Trip posts.
Important Note: This post does not mean much without images. Unfortunately, I did not have a digital camera until late 2003 and will be investing in a scanner in the near future to gloss up my matte white photos that may resemble 1970 when all is said and done.
*The bathroom becomes quite symbolic throughout this tale.
As part of this customary tradition, when the kickoff is slated to occur in South Bend, Boston College's [primarily] junior and senior students make the trek out to the Midwest. There's no better way to celebrate than by cramming between 6 - 10 of your closest friends in a spacious RV.. To pioneer our escapade from Boston to South Bend in October of 2002, we used Cruise America out of Middleboro, MA.
If you can recall, in my post about our vacation quarters in Lagos, I was very impressed by the size of & space in the unit. Um, this was kind of like that.. if instead of college females in their last year before entering 'the real world', we were actually baby ants.
Get car sick? Be sure to bring this to the attention of your traveling companions well before mile 1, and not abruptly before your already inexperienced driver of monstrous vehicles tries to pull out onto the first major highway of the trip. Thank goodness that Massachusetts is renowned for its lack of road rage and inviting driving circumstances.
In any case, we got off without a hitch.. for the most part. Adrenaline flowing through our otherwise alcohol-energized bodies [remember, we were seniors in college], the 9 of us were having a blast. With a surplus of food & beverage options, car games, stories, coloring supplies [like I said, remember: we're seniors in college] & trinkets to carry us across the Mass Pike, into New York State, and through the eerie & Amish Pennsylvania countryside, we were just living life on the road. The way truckers do. Except without cigarettes, beards, or flannel.
Once we reached Ohio, we decided to head to roommate Mary's house in Gates Mills. It was dark, late and we all wanted to use a real bathroom*. Enter problem 1: As we turn off the exit, we had noticed a different feel to the way our motor home was riding.. lo' and behold - flat tire. Now, being the good-natured Midwestern folks that they are, Mary's parents came out to help us.. here's a glimpse into their conversation upon reaching our troubled vehicle:
[Imagine this exchange in a Midwestern accent]
Diane: What are we gonna do, Charrrles? Oh no, that's bad. How are we going to fix it?
Charles: I don't know, Diannnne. What am I - the Good Year answer maannn?
[Words elongated for accurate reflection of accent.. help me out here.]
Eventually, we make it to Mary's house. We have a good sleep, a hearty breakfast, and get on the road early the next morning to make it to Indiana by dusk. All that I can remember upon arrival in South Bend is the Walmart parking lot which resembled an endless sea of RVs, and a night of drinks at "The Library" to unwind from our journey. Note, it was very cold that October night.. sleep before the big game didn't come without a price.
Stay tuned for Game Day & Return Trip posts.
Important Note: This post does not mean much without images. Unfortunately, I did not have a digital camera until late 2003 and will be investing in a scanner in the near future to gloss up my matte white photos that may resemble 1970 when all is said and done.
*The bathroom becomes quite symbolic throughout this tale.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Boulder to Boston with a kitty on my tail
*Honda CRV packed with all of your childhood friend's stuff - check
*One new stray black kitten who the boyfriend is training to be a dog - check
*One little box for said kitten to poop in during the 36 hour non-stop car trip - check
*Animosity toward your friend and her boyfriend for making you move their asses to the boyfriend's new apartment while all you wanna do is lie in a dark corner being hungover and cracked out - check
In complete silence we headed out of Boulder on I-76 toward Nebraska. I remember initially thinking "sweet we get to drive in a straight line for 4 hours". However, thanks to the silence my mood created I was able to truly appreciate the beauty of traveling east from the Rocky Mountains at dusk toward the darkness and utter flatness of the U.S. Midwest. Looking back at the abruptness of the mountains is surreal.
The following 36 hours were a blur of greasy truck-stops (a true American tradition), smelly cat poop (and litter), crossing the Mississippi River (oops slept through that one), Little Red Corvettes (the Prince song not the car), desires to brush our teeth in a White Castle bathroom at 10am (followed by approximately 20 sliders), lots of "Kum & Go" gas marts (no, really), and even more no doze (truckers recommend). Whatever I thought driving across the U.S. was going to be - it wasn't. But there really isn't a wrong way to make the trip. The point is that it should be done, there is no better way to appreciate how massive our country really is, and to know when it really comes down to it, a truck stop is a truck stop is a truck stop.
P.S. I have the lamest sense of humor!
*One new stray black kitten who the boyfriend is training to be a dog - check
*One little box for said kitten to poop in during the 36 hour non-stop car trip - check*Animosity toward your friend and her boyfriend for making you move their asses to the boyfriend's new apartment while all you wanna do is lie in a dark corner being hungover and cracked out - check
I'd heard of good ingredients for a cross-country road trip, but my deep black heart told me these weren't going to be it.
Being unemployed at the time, I had jumped at the opportunity to go to Boulder, CO for a week while my friend, Annie, finished up her summer classes. Boulder in the summer is really id
eal for anyone looking for a laid back scene, and good eats (or if you are a burnout, whatever). You've got the Flatirons for hiking, Boulder Creek for "tubing", and the Liquor Mart to help you truly enjoy the former two. It had been a relaxing week, and after the last night of hiking, tubing, and liquor marting, we spent the entire following morning bickering, bitching, and moving Annie's boyfriend Carlos' belongings into his new apartment. The entire process delayed our departure until about dusk that evening - if I had actually let people talk to me, it just may have taken a little less time.
Being unemployed at the time, I had jumped at the opportunity to go to Boulder, CO for a week while my friend, Annie, finished up her summer classes. Boulder in the summer is really id
eal for anyone looking for a laid back scene, and good eats (or if you are a burnout, whatever). You've got the Flatirons for hiking, Boulder Creek for "tubing", and the Liquor Mart to help you truly enjoy the former two. It had been a relaxing week, and after the last night of hiking, tubing, and liquor marting, we spent the entire following morning bickering, bitching, and moving Annie's boyfriend Carlos' belongings into his new apartment. The entire process delayed our departure until about dusk that evening - if I had actually let people talk to me, it just may have taken a little less time.In complete silence we headed out of Boulder on I-76 toward Nebraska. I remember initially thinking "sweet we get to drive in a straight line for 4 hours". However, thanks to the silence my mood created I was able to truly appreciate the beauty of traveling east from the Rocky Mountains at dusk toward the darkness and utter flatness of the U.S. Midwest. Looking back at the abruptness of the mountains is surreal.
The following 36 hours were a blur of greasy truck-stops (a true American tradition), smelly cat poop (and litter), crossing the Mississippi River (oops slept through that one), Little Red Corvettes (the Prince song not the car), desires to brush our teeth in a White Castle bathroom at 10am (followed by approximately 20 sliders), lots of "Kum & Go" gas marts (no, really), and even more no doze (truckers recommend). Whatever I thought driving across the U.S. was going to be - it wasn't. But there really isn't a wrong way to make the trip. The point is that it should be done, there is no better way to appreciate how massive our country really is, and to know when it really comes down to it, a truck stop is a truck stop is a truck stop.
P.S. I have the lamest sense of humor!
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