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The
further East you get in this country, the faster the
drive seems to go. First off, there starts to
be some diversity of scenery. That always helps.
Plus, the states are a lot smaller, so you just feel
like you’re making more progress. I’m not sure
if the delirium that set in had any effect…
Thursday,
11:00pm (INDIANAPOLIS, IN)
We
said a quick hi to Peyton Manning. I’m not sure if he
saw us waving from the freeway, but I swear I saw him
waving back. On the outskirts of town, we get a call
from Matt’s wife. They talk for a few minutes and I
hear Matt chuckle and say, “Naw, he’ll probably like
it too much.” I shoot him a confused look and upon looking
back at the road, I realize that I’m in the far left
lane, and HWY 80 is splitting off. I need to be in the
far right lane. I do a quick blind-spot check and traverse
four lanes, narrowly escaping both a deadly collision
with the divider and what was sure to be at least a
five to ten minute detour! I look again at Matt and
put a finger over my mouth, as if to say “shhh!” Matt,
of course, is still on the phone with his wife. Did
I mention that we’re driving HER car? Shhh, indeed.
He
gets off the phone, we breathe a collective sigh of
relief and I ask him about his comment that I overheard,
“he’ll probably like it too much.” Matt explained to
me that these past few days are the longest he’s been
separated from his wife since they got married two years
ago. That being the case, his wife had suggested a little,
well…, phone-sex. Of course, my external reaction was,
“Only if you put her on speaker phone!” But, inside,
my stomach turned. You see, Matt and I have been close
friends for 20 years. He might as well be my brother,
I’ve known him so long. Thinking of him having any kind
of sex, phone or otherwise, is just a picture that I
don’t want in my head. It’s like thinking about my parents
having sex or my baby sister, who just had a baby of
her own. Ewww. Next topic!
Friday,
12:00am (Somewhere in Indiana)
We
stop for gas and a pick-me-up. Matt’s pumping the gas
and I grab a Mountain Dew. Right as I get out the door,
I realize that I picked up a “Diet” Mountain Dew. What
the hell? DIET Mountain Dew??? So you’re telling me that people actually
drink this crap for its taste??? It’s like making non-alcoholic
Jagermeister. Why would anyone want to do that? So,
I promptly exchange my drink for a regular Mountain
Dew and it’s back to the road.
Friday,
3:00am (outside COLUMBUS, OH)
We’re
driving and driving, making great time, and we stop
to get some gas. We talk briefly about driving through
the night and getting to DC in the morning, and I start
getting very, very sleepy. So, we decide to call it
a night and get a room at the luxurious Knight’s Inn.
What a hell-hole this place is, but, hey, their sign
out front advertised free internet, so we figure that
we lucked out.
Needless
to say, we misread the sign. Apparently, it read “FREE
614 INTERNET,” which, upon leaving, we figured to mean
that you were allowed to make one free local call to
an ISP. No wireless network. We tried hacking into the
“Flying J” wireless network across the street, but Matt
must have slept through that class.
Friday,
12:00pm (COLUMBUS, OH)
We
wake up, get on the road, and stop for some lunch at
a Subway. Not my favorite place, but at least their
sandwiches are a thousand times better than they were
ten years ago. I order my sandwich with everything on
it, including Pepperoncinis, which gives me a strange
stare from the “Sandwich Artist.” At first, she thinks
I mean Bell Peppers, and then I settle for some Jalapenos.
Dorothy, we’re not in California any more.
Friday,
6:00pm (BOWIE, MD)
We
finally reach our destination and go out for a bite
and a beer. We get to Matt’s friend’s house and hang
out there for a few hours, waiting for everyone to get
home. Then, it happens. The Puerto Rican Princess arrives.
What
the hell was I thinking? I mean, sure, she’s cute. But
she’s a LITTLE GIRL! I don’t know… maybe 29 isn’t too
old to go chasing after 20-year-old coeds, but it was
then that I realized that I have no interest in doing
so. What a buzzkill. Not that I thought that anything
REALLY was going to happen, but it was an entertaining
little fantasy to help the drive go by more quickly.
Maybe I should find a 35-year-old MILF.
Present
Time (LA MIRADA, CA)
I
went on this trip a few months ago. Since then, I have
dated a 35-year-old MILF. (No, I wasn’t really looking
to meet one, but I found it funny that there was a 15-year
age difference between these two women.) Anyhow, it
didn’t work out. So, back to the drawing board. I guess
I should narrow my dating pool to the 21-34 age range…
The
End.
Oliver
Butterick can be reached at oliver@babblog.com.
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