Thursday, March 22, 2012

Final Day of Our Road Trip

The last day of our road trip was one of the most memorable. I woke up at around 7:30am and read The Hunger Games on the front porch with Quincy's dad as he read his own book and smoked his morning cigar. Quincy's mom bought doughnuts and I got the first pick because none of the other guys were awake. Score? Yes.

Everyone else woke up around 11:00am, and once we were fully dressed and showered, we went to the beach to have a freaking cookout. Quincy brought a grill, burgers, sausages, buns. fruit and pasta salads, chips, brownies, and so much more. We played frisbee, shirtless in the sun while she cooked for us, and when the food was ready we feasted like champions. The sky was blue, the company was fantastic, and the food was possibly the best we've had in months.

Once we finished eating, we dropped Quincy and her cooking materials back at her house, thanked her and her family endlessly, and then began our journey home.

"It should take less than four hours." said PK as he backed out of the driveway.

Two hours later we were lost.

"We're supposed to be heading south right? There's the sun. So that's west, so we're sort of heading where we want to go, right?"
"But we should be on a freeway right now."
"Should we ask for directions?"
"NO. We're men. We never ask for directions. And we never ask for help when carrying furniture, even if we do not 'have it'".

We stopped in Randolph, a town that shall always live in infamy. It turns our that we drove in a circle, and now, after two hours of driving, we were two miles away from Quincy, where we started.
"HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?" said PK incredulously.
We went to the Randolph CVS to get drinks to improve morale. I had been eating brownies for a couple of hours and was craving milk, so I bought myself a "Milk Chug", which I was very excited about.


"MILK!" I said, showing PK.
"That's fine, Connor. Just don't spill it in the car."
"Man, I will not spill ANY of it. I am going to drink every last drop. I've been eating brownies. I need this."
We had not even left Randolph before we hit a bump and I spilled pretty much half of the bottle on my lap.
"What is it?"
"I spilled the milk."
"You have got to be kidding me. The one thing we ask you to do Connor."
"Sorry." I began wiping up as much as I could with my sweater.
"How much did you spill?"
"It's ok, he's cleaning it up."said Colgate as I frantically took off my shorts, which were soaking in dairy.
"How much did he spill?"
"Not a lot."
"That doesn't help me."
"Just a little. It's fine."

Soiled shorts, boxer briefs.
Fortunately the sun went down and we didn't have to deal with the milk curdling and stinking up the car (although I am worried for PK's mom, who is currently using the car to make a five hour commute. AAAAA).

We finally found our way back on the road. A three and a half car ride turned into a six-hour trek. On the bright side, we went through most of Seattle's music playlist, but a quarter through it I bumped the screen we went out of sequence.


We decided to name the car Randolph because of all that transpired in this small, Massachusettan town. We  pulled into PK's driveway at 10:30pm, and we unloaded the car immediately, snacked lightly, surfed the internet, showered, and went to bed.

Poughkeepsie (the town) is my new home for the next seven days. The road trip was a success as far as I am concerned. We all had our cathartic moments and we had a much needed break from schoolwork and dense populations of women. This is it. Michael Jackson's, "This Is It".

Colgate urinating as a rest stop. 

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