Road Trip Through Hell – Or Why You Shouldn’t Drink & Drive

August 2, 2010

in Blame The Sudafed, Guest Hosts, I Learn the Lessons So You Don't Have To, OldSchool, Taking the Scenic Route

Jess over at Bringing Up Baby is today’s Guest Host.  I don’t think I’ve ever come across a blogger more directly, brutally, hilariously funny than Jess.  If she is experiencing it, she is blogging it.  Which has made her trip through pregnancy into new-momma-hood a FANTASTIC read.  Not to mention you can Ask her Anything.  Literally.  Anything.  Like how her pregnant Brazillian wax went.  Or what the F are nipple shields?  Or would you please, please write a guest post for us??


Ahhh road trips.  When Meg asked me to write about my own road trip experience, I literally laughed out loud and then warned her about the can of worms she was opening.
I have been on a ridiculous amount of road trips.  I didn’t grow up with a whole lot of money, so for family vacations, we hit the open road and we generally headed out west.  South Dakota, North Dakota, Colorado, Montana, Nebraska – each state had its own summer with the S. family.  I have a special disdain for South Dakota because of these childhood road trips.  All trips west go through South Dakota and lemme tell ya, the Black Hills are lame, and I’m also pretty sure South Dakota is where S. family cars go to die.  We broke down so many times in the middle of nowhere South Dakota.  It’s like our own little Bermuda Triangle.
But don’t worry, our road trips weren’t simply limited to the continental US.  Lets not forget about the time when my parents and I drove from Sienna to Florence when we were in Italy several years ago.  Based on the suggestion of the family priest, we decided to take the scenic route in order to see a certain church (which we never did find) and this scenic route turned out to be nothin’ but switchbacks up and down the mountains.  I was car sick, my mom could barely read the map to get us where we were going (she was still in denial about her failing vision), and dad kept yelling at mom every time she told him to pull over in the middle of a busy turnabout.  We were lost in Florence for what seemed like an eternity before we finally decided to park the car and just walk to where we needed to go with luggage in tow.  We didn’t speak to each other for an entire day after that.  I totally hate Florence as a result.
Ahhh road trips.  So many stories to choose from.
For this particular blog, though, lets discuss my final road trip back from Chicago.
A few years ago, I decided to move from Minneapolis to Chicago.  My best friend had just graduated from Loyola and I had always promised her I’d move down with her for a little while once she finished.  I had nothin’ going on in MN – I was done with school and spending my days bartending and my nights drinking – so I decided it was a perfect time to move down there for a year.
6 months later, I was over it.  I missed my family, I missed my boyfriend (who is now my husband) and I was sick of driving 6 hours every other week in the middle of the night in order to see everyone I missed.  So I convinced my boyfriend and a bunch of our friends to come down to Chicago for one last hurrah and to help me pack up and move back to Minneapolis.
We had a crazy weekend and I’m pretty sure we were drunk the entire time.  The last night was a complete debacle which ended with two of my friends crying and me getting my wallet stolen.  I think it’s safe to say I overdid it and as a result felt like hot ass the next day.  I was definitely still drunk when I woke up and had no idea what was in store for me once we hit the road.
As soon as we got out of the city, my hangover kicked in with a vengeance.  As I slouched in the front seat, calling all my credit card providers to cancel my cards and attempting to mumble with some sort of coherence, the nausea suddenly hit.  I had to make my boyfriend stop at just about every gas station in Illinois so that I could dry heave for a half hour at a time.  The 6 hour drive turned into about an 8 hour drive as I wallowed in misery every chance I got.
It was by far the worse road trip experience of my life.  AND, we wound up getting a ticket because we accidentally went in one of the speedy pass lanes at the toll and so didn’t pay for ONE toll booth.  Whatever, I’m probably just lucky I didn’t contract some sort of STD from all the time I spent in the gas station bathrooms.
All in all, it was a total disaster.  I haven’t driven to Chicago since, nor have I gotten wiggedy wasted before a long road trip.  At least I learned my lesson.
Now if only I could somehow eradicate road trips altogether.  I really should have married a pilot…

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