RealityMeltdown
How often do you willingly lock yourself in a metal box, under a heat lamp, with a madman? How often? How about today?!
Road Trips suck balls. If it's not one thing, it's another.
Rule #1: Pack only what you need.
Yeah, sure, right. A whole week? At the worlds finest gaming expo? With only neccessities? I do believe we all agreed that every gaming system since the dawn of man had become a necessity. Packing in 7 some systems each seemed to occupy the entire backseat, so most of the clothing went into the back seats. Hitchhikers would need to be smaller than most pens to fit in there. And that left me and Broken crammed into the front.
Rule #2: Leave as early as possible.
Leaving early lets you avoid every asshole trying to get to work. It also requires waking up early, and we all know damn well that shit didn't happen. In fact, our combined meager efforts to wake up only got us us a few hours early. Like at... say.. 9 o'clock. Whats so bad about 9 o'clock? Everyone on the road is hopped up on a double esspresso shot, and it's slowly wearing thin, so they're no longer perky, and just plain pissed off. Some like to honk at cars trapped behind other cars, as if the sheer annoyance of the horn could move us all forward. Keep wishing, jackass.
Rule #3: Take frequent rest stops.
Nothing sucks like having to urinate. And so of course, a few hours in when I had to go, that asshole Broken wouldn't stop. So I had to hold it for 2 hours, until I could find a water bottle floating around in the backseat to pee in. When we finally did pull over, it was for gas and snacks. The man inside the gas station looked like congealed swamp gas. He smelled worse than ass sweat. While Broken was paying, I stole some candy. I had been on the road for hours and could use some skittles.
Rule #4: Use rest stops to stretch and relax.
Anyway, after we left, Broken had to pee 20 minutes later, and we pulled into one of those little park things. What the fuck are those? They're basically a bathroom, and some cement structure to sit on. Not like, a bench, just some raised potted structure. And a huge map that so old it only has San Francisco and the Oregon Trail on it. And the bathroom itself has more written on it than most popular kids high-school yearbooks. And the whole time I was trying to upset these geese... these freakish, angry, annoying white goblins, Broken's whining about leaving in time, that we're late, blah blah blah. Shoulda thought of that when you decided not to cut off your grandparents, jerk.
Rule #5: Use Sunscreen.
Anyway, I started driving then, and I started to notice that tingly feeling on one side of my face. An hour later, I definately was sunburned, on one half of my face. Nothing sucks like half a sunburn. I could have been two-face.
Rule #6: Drive directly to your hotel.
Traffic in LA also sucks balls. If there ever was a city to annihilate, that would be it. And so, it riled me up even mroe when we spent 2 hours tyring to find my hotel. Even street signs in L.A. suck. Some zoning permit must requrie everything in L.A. County to suck balls. And since the directions for the L.A. Hilton had gotten chucked out at a rest stop in an effort to free us from swimming in our own filth, it sucked ass. I'm just glad that Broken was stuck searching for my hotel because it's his car.
