before the long drive home (1,191 miles/18.43 hours) i went on a cruise to mexico with my family. being my first cruise i didn't quite know what to expect other than the obvious gorging on buffet food and the gaining of the requisite ten pounds.
what caught me off-guard were the warnings about a mysterious 'norovirus'. not having wikipedia at my fingertips, i panicked and assumed it was some flesh eating disease (which would definitely be a downer). due to the risk norovirus spreading, they had hand sanitizer stations posted every 20 feet. it's like our cruise director was howard hughes; shuffling down the corridors with tissue boxes on his feet obsessing over germs while mumbling incoherently about some shuffleboard tournament at noon.
after scrubbing in, we made our way to the cabin. i'll start out by saying our cabin hallway smelled like a septic tank had exploded in the walls. afraid of inhaling free-roaming fecal particles or contracting the deadly norovirus, i smeared hand sanitizer around the rims of my nostrils just to be on the safe side.
it turns out my obsessive wikipedia addiction, along with excessive viewing of 'cash cab' came in handy when i learned of a little on-board treat called the DAILY TRIVIA COMPETITION. while everyone on board was on the main deck getting a nice tan, i met with a small group of pale white nerds in a poorly lit irish pub to get our trivia on. let's just say the fact that i know what catgut is made of AND what color a vulcan's blood is would make me ripe for mockery in the real world. but in our tiny cabal...i was a god among geeks.**
a quick breakdown of other ship events:
there was a chinese acrobat show that defied all known laws of physics. a health seminar on how coffee was toxic for your system (as i sipped my piping hot ninth cup of the day). the chocoholic midnight buffet (after which my pancreas threw in the towel and decided to take the night off). the asian man we sat next to at dinner who looked exactly like voldemort. the hairy chest contest that all the gentleman (and two ladies) were apparently competing in on the main deck. and of course the highlight of the trip being the giant walmart located directly off port in puerto vallarta. way to stay classy, puerto vallarta.
after the mexican festivities, it was time for the long trek home in the jetta. coffee and ranch flavored CornNuts silently waiting in the wings, ipod loaded and ready, GPS awaiting my orders, i throw my foot to the floor - anxious to get the hell out of this state once and for all.
about an hour into my trip i notice a white SUV on my tail, following my every lane change; and it's not a cop. this goes on for an hour or so. normally this wouldn't be all too alarming, were it not for the fact that i was traveling at 118 MPH the entire time. several more hours pass and i realize i'm low on petrol and snack food. i take the next exit and glance in my rear-view mirror. yep. white SUV.
i pull into the gas station; fairly certain that something is about to go down. i position my keys between my knuckles, ready to gouge some eyes out at a moment's notice. i begin to pump my gas, keeping them in my sights the entire time. the driver casually leans around the pump to make eye contact with me. she smiles and says, "you were going pretty fast back there."
i just nod my head once and continue pumping. "we've been following you the past few hundred miles."
"i noticed." was my curt reply.
then a man slowly rises out of her passenger side. he's about seven feet tall and looks like he just got paroled/escaped from prison. i of course assume he has a homemade weapon on him (shoddily made from a laminated road map and lighter), so i grip my knuckles even tighter around my car keys. he glares at me with a look in his eye that said "i'll see you in the shower" before continuing past me and into the convenience store.
"where you headed?" she inquires.
nice try, lady. "north" I reply.
"oh! us too! we're headed to seattle. we're from tennessee and headed there to pick up my boys."
do i tell her i'm also headed to seattle? better not. next thing i know she'll be asking what hotel i'm staying at so her convict boyfriend can break into my room at 3am to murder me and steal what's left of my CornNuts.
"have a safe trip" i blandly reply.
yet she continued, "hey! since you're headed north like us, is it cool if we follow each other? in case one of us gets a flat or something like that? maybe you can follow us until the next gas stop."
i hesitate before responding, "that's fine."
and so it went. we both continued our journey together, each swapping the lead every hundred miles or so. i progressively lowered my guard a little more at each gas stop and discovered that she was also a screenwriter and part of a little production company in memphis. this finally ended with us swapping email addresses and parting ways just north of the california border where i decided to call it a night and find a hotel with a strong dead-bolt. just in case.
the next morning - still in california mode - i proceed upward through oregon pushing triple digit speeds. speed traps being practically non-existent in california, i cheerfully whizzed northward without any worry of getting pulled over. i was sharply reminded that this was not the case in the great state of oregon. as soon as i came around the corner i saw him crouched in the bushes, waiting to pounce on me. i hit the breaks, but not soon enough. a member of my 'welcome back to the northwest' committee flashed some red and blue in my rear-view mirror.
"do you know how fast you were going?"
"yep."
"license and registration."
i see his pen rapidly moving over the clipboard. all business. he returns my license along with a yellow carbon copy telling me that i now owe the state of oregon $430. he bids me a safe trip and i roll up the window muttering some choice words about swine.
once the bubbling anger subsided within me, it hit home that $430 was a large chunk of change. which caused me to openly weep the remainder of the trip though the beaver state; while grudgingly traveling at precisely 59 MPH the remainder of the way home.
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*okay fine. i don't actually own galashes. yet.
** catgut is made out of sheep intestine and vulcans have green blood
1 comment:
Yeah, Oregon can suck it. I say you contest the ticket, subpoena the officer, and take a fun day trip to Oregon. Screw them if they can't handle a guy who's been slogging through California traffic for over a year.
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