Big Funny Road Trip
“ROAD TRIP!!!!”
It’s a phrase that elicits excitement for many. Unless, of course, your road trip stretches 3,500 miles over nine days, nine states, and three time zones. And it also includes your two small children. And your in-laws. And all six of you are sleeping in the same hotel room every night.
Yep, that was my road trip.
We took off on this trip last Saturday morning, our ultimate destination being Yellowstone Park. But along the way if anyone would have asked me, “Where are you going?” I would have answered “Bat Shit Crazy.”
Take, for example, the buildup to this vacation. For two weeks prior my wife was freaking out about every little detail: packing, getting a dog sitter, having someone water her tomato plants. Me? I was mostly worried about where to bury the bodies when I snapped around day five and murdered my entire family. I guess that’s the difference between husbands and wives, though.
But we should have plenty of tomatoes this summer. So I guess that’s good.
My philosophy is always to not worry about packing because it’s inevitable you’ll forget something. This was no more apparent then after we picked my in-laws up at 7:30 a.m. and my mother-in-law, Collene, asks my father-in-law, Dan, if he brought his sweatshirt.
“No, I thought you had it.”
“No, Dan, I didn’t have it. I told you to bring it.” Side note: whenever you use a person’s name when talking directly to them, it means you’re pissed. So of course he fires back with:
“Well Jesus Christ, Colleene, how was I suppose to know?”
Mind you, all of this took place 65 feet from their driveway Honestly, that’s twice as far as I thought we’d get before realizing we forgot something. I just turned around and went back to get the damn sweatshirt. But it was clear what kind of trip we were heading out on.
The next funny thing occurred when Dan started complaining about the route we were taking. He thought we should head down M-13 to I-69 instead of I-75 like I took. He said his route would be more, “Scenic.”
Scenic? We’re about to drive nine days through God’s country, U.S.A. I think you can stomach looking at Flint for a few minutes, Dan.
As much as Dan has the tendency to forget sweat shirts and scream, “God dammit Colleene,” for no apparent reason, I must say the man has the most impressive bladder I’ve ever witnessed. We left home around 7:30 a.m. and got to the hotel at 7 p.m. We must have stopped about six or seven times in that span for gas, bathroom breaks, etc. And yet that man never once went pee. It was as if he refused to let his bladder win.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen that side of him, though. Years ago we went to see the fireworks down at Vet’s Park in Bay City. We were there at like 10 a.m. cooking out and were still stuck in traffic at like Midnight. Finally out of nowhere he bellows out, “God dammit Colleene, I have to piss like a sonofabitch.” We pull over — of all places — in an elementary school parking lot. Dan climbs out on his side of the truck and I get out and I hear him start to go. And go.
And go.
Honestly, I almost pissed myself laughing so hard about how long he was pissing. I felt like I was listening to Niagara Falls. At one point I looked down and it was running across the parking lot like a flash flood. The truck actually hydroplaned on the way out. Here’s a video of what it basically looked like.
But as much as I made fun of him for his ability to not go to the bathroom, I was actually quite jealous. Because it turns out, I wasn’t so lucky when it came to bathroom breaks.
Stay tuned all week as Jason keeps you posted on happenings from his nine-day road trip.
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