WTF happened on Saturday night?

Saturday night I went out with three members of my family and a family friend, to celebrate the impending nuptials of one of those family members. I remember going to Pat O'Brien's. I remember ordering and drinking one Purple People Eater. I remember going back to the bar and ordering a second Purple People Eater, and one beer (so that I could nurse it for several hours, because I didn't want to get drunk), and then closing out my tab in a responsible manner. Things get a little bit hazy after that.

Since I don't really know what happened on Saturday night, I don't feel right about just telling the story. I'll put it in quiz form, because that will be more fun!

1) Upon waking up on Sunday morning, which of the following worried me?
A. What is that smell?
B. Why is my pantleg wet?
C. How did I get here, and why am I on the floor?
D. Why am I completely dressed?
E. None of the above
F. All of the above

2) What combination of drinks did I later learn caused all of the trouble?
A. Two Purple People Eaters and one beer
B. Three Purple People Eaters and one beer
C. Three Purple People Eaters, at least one shot, and one beer
D. Three Purple People Eaters, one Hurricane, at least one shot and one beer

3) What song did I aggressively request the piano players perform?
A. "Don't Stop Believin'"
B. "Dixie"
C. "Sweet Caroline"
D. A & B
E. A & C
F. B & C

4) I was responsible about my drink purchasing. Who bought me the drinks that did me in?
A. My aunt
B. Some dude
C. Myself
D. The bartender gave me a freebie
E. Nobody knows

5) What was the reason that so many drinks were purchased?
A. I wanted to get completely hammered
B. My aunt wanted a collection of glasses from Pat O'Brien's
C. It was some kind of a dare
D. Nobody knows

6) On what/in what did I NOT vomit?
A. The car
B. Myself
C. A plastic bag
D. The toilet

7) I was upset because I thought I lost something. What was it?
A. My debit card
B. My phone
C. My camera
D. My foot

8) Which of the following was my aunt trying to keep me from doing?
A. Puking in the car
B. Drowning in the toilet
C. Cleaning my face with Clorox wipes
D. Drinking
E. All of the above, excluding D

9) Of which of the following do I have a vague memory?
A. Throwing up in a platic bag
B. Taking a nap outside
C. Taking almost 200 pictures
D. Putting my feet on the table at Pat O'Brien's
E. Drinking more than the drinks that I responsibly purchased
F. Leaving, getting in the house, or anything that followed after that

10) What did I do with the clean t-shirt that my aunt gave me?
A. I threw up on it
B. I put it in the toilet
C. I used it as a pillow

D. Nobody is sure, but it's missing

Now look at the answers below, and see how you did! BTW, that Oxyclean detergent is amazing at removing purple vomit. BTW again, don't drink anything purple ever.

Answers:

1) F. BTW, my pantleg was wet because I fell asleep on the wet towel that my aunt gave me to wash my face with. I still don't really know the answer to the other questions;

2) C. I did not personally purchase any of the extra drinks though;

3) D. I don't even remember that they played "Dixie", let alone that I requested it;

4) A. Thanks, Ellen! Although that explains why she was so nice about taking care of drunken Fort Awesome;

5) B. Seriously. I kept my cool little shot glass though. I deserved to ;

6) A. By the hardest, I did not vomit on any part of the car. However, this should give you a clue as to the answer to one of the questions I asked in question 1. Namely, "what's that smell?";

7) D. Don't worry. I found it. Turns out that it was just my shoe that fell off, and not my foot;

8) E. Although the drinking was apparently encouraged and enabled, she thought all of those other things were bad ideas;

9) A. Ah, sweet dignity. How I miss you so;

10) C. And it would have been a much better idea to wear it instead of my pukey shirt.

I have absolutely know idea why this thought came to me, but...

Remember Jurassic Park? Well, first remember the book, because it kicked total ass. Then, if you feel like, remember the movie. Under no circumstances should you remember any sequels to that movie. Moving on... Remember Jurassic Park?

Earlier, for no apparent reason whatsoever, I started making a list in my head of things that would not be of any practical value if you were stuck inside of Jurassic Park. The actual park, not the book or the movie. Now, that list has gotten loose and is on the internet.

1. A sombrero. Sure, you could argue that it's a really big hat, and nobody likes a sunburn, but that would be stupid. First of all, sombreros are never useful, unless you are employed by a mariachi band. Then, it's sort of a requirement. Other than that, there is no reason to choose a sombrero over a less festive hat. In Jurassic Park, it would just make you the asshole that gets eaten first.

2. The complete Encyclopedia Britannica. It could potentially help identify native flora and fauna, but then it's not really important what kind of dinosaur is trying to kill you. What's important is that you had fun running away!

3. One of those little balsa wood airplanes with the wind-up propellers. They're stupid anyway. They always nosedive straight into the damn ground, and if you accidentally wind up the propeller too tight, the balsa wood cracks apart. Stupid little airplane. Why won't you fly for me?!?!?

4. A unicycle. Unless you can somehow strap a dummy version of you onto it, and push it over a cliff as some kind of clever decoy. But, if you were dumb enough to go to Jurassic Park, let alone bring a unicycle, you probably aren't clever enough to have thought of that.

5. A ping pong paddle. What's the point of having just one paddle anyway? Without another paddle and a ball, you can't play. If you just have one paddle, you deserve to be stuck on the island.

6. Your half of the BFF necklace that you share with your BFF. By the way, if they have multiple halves of necklaces that they are sharing with multiple other people, you are not their BFF. Now go flail about in front of the T-Rex.

7. Yoga DVD. You probably won't have time for yoga, and once the power gets shut off, good luck trying to find a generator for your DVD player.

8. Condoms. It's too dirty to have sex, and besides... You're going to be eaten by a dinosaur. Catching the clap is the least of your problems.

9. Lab coat. It might look cool, and be a hit with the ladies, but a velociraptor will just treat it like the skin on a hot tamale.

10. Stilts. Everyone would like to be a little bit taller, but unless you are competing on the awesome Japanese gameshow "Unbeatable Banzuke" (Google it-- you won't regret it) they really won't help you. They'll just end up as dino toothpicks when pieces of you get all stuck between their front teeth. That is so annoying!

I am sure that there are many more things that wouldn't help at all if you were trapped in Jurassic Park, but those are just the things that I was thinking about earlier. BTW, none of those things are useless if you are MacGyver... But so few of us are. How awesome was that guy?

Sick and tired of being sick and tired...

So... Once again an unfortunate illness has roundhouse kicked me, throwing yet another monkey wrench into my theory that I am invincible. Despite some extraordinarily unpleasant food poisoning a few short weeks ago, I haven't been sick since December '06. What the balls happened? I know what.

Despite being exceptionally tired and generally burnt out, I partied hard last week. I mean, like, hard. It was all whiskey and beers and cigars and concerts and throwing cabbages at people... The usual St. Patrick's Week kind of stuff. In fact, I woke up with a sore throat the day before riding in the Irish-Italian parade, but I still had to ride it in anyway. After all, I had three whole pounds of fava beans to throw, as well as all of the produce I bought for the occasion.

I woke up with much more than a sore throat the day after said parade. No hangover, which is probably what you're thinking. Nope. Fort Awesome doesn't roll that way. Fort Awesome fears no beers. Except for Keystone Light (water, or maybe "used beer", i.e., "urine") and Hoegaarden (disgusting, pure liquid evil). I did, however, have the same sore throat, a sunburn (the kind that truckers get, where you're only burned from the shirt sleeves down), chapped lips, burned tongue (from post-parade pizza), bruises all over my body (stupid gravity) and a giant gash on my leg that seems to have occurred during a demonstration as to why I think pole dancing is good exercise. Plus some residual weirdness over a pseudo-argument with a friend that I feel a little guilty about. I guess I was sort of mean, even though I don't really remember much about it. More on that another day, if I think it's interesting enough.

So the past couple of days have been pretty shitty, and not at all Awesometown. Someone I know tried to help me out by giving me one of those Emergen-C packets that you mix into water and drink for immune-boosting super powers. Except that she gave me a kind of awesome-tasting, special flavor for kids that is incredibly hard to find. I have to order it off of the internet, in fact. I looked for some this morning on my way to work, but all I could find were crappy grownup flavors like Tangerine, which is stupid. I bought it anyway, because I really want to feel better. My chest hurts and feels all tired, and that concerns me because whenever I get sick, I get sick. See earlier The Awesomeness entries for examples on that.

I went off to court this morning, and drank one horrible Tangerine Emergen-C in a bottle of water. After court, I bought another bottle of water and decided to make what shall henceforth be known as a very bad decision.

The directions on the Emergen-C packet say to take 1 packet 2 to 4 times a day. But I think it's too nasty for that, so I decided to be more efficient. I poured two packets of the Tangerine crap powder into the bottle and shook it up. I could hear it fizzing. The same sound that you hear right before you die when you mix Poprocks and soda. Except that might just be (really is) an urban legend. What happened to me is definitely true, but scary nonetheless.

I tasted the mixture, which was pretty nasty. And fizzy. I decided to just go for it. What the hell... I have chugged worse! So I chugged the whole bottle, without stopping. In my head, for self-motivation purposes, I silently chanted "Go! Go! Go!" When it was finished, I had three thoughts: 1) I think I might vomit, 2) Ouch! Brain freeze! and 3) I have to pee. Right now.

Later, I made another poor decision. I decided to try and put the powder in my mouth dry, and then wash it down with Coke. Except that it fizzes. And makes your mouth feel like it is on Tangerine-flavored fizzy fire. And then later, you find out what happens to your body when you take too much Vitamin C. It doesn't hurt or anything, but it will make you panic. I won't go into too much detail, but if you are considering taking a large dose of Vitamin C, please click on the link provided. You'll thank me later.

So now I have been sick for 5 freaking days officially. I don't know how much longer I should expect to feel shitty. I should go see a doctor like the nice lady in India told me today. It turns out that if you call Allstate's website tech support, you end up talking to some lady in India who is very concerned about your voice and cough. If you're lucky like me, she'll recommend specific drugs and then she'll tell you to take the rest of the day off to go home and get some rest. I have noticed that a lot of Indians (dot, not feather) seem to end up as doctors. Maybe she is paying her way through medical school by assigning people new passwords on Allstate's website.

Sorry, but I am too goshdarn sick to come up with a clever ending to this post. I can't even come up with something that gives it any sense of closure. It's almost like The Sopranos writers just took over and...

Whatever, Shark Murderer

So there's this big story out about this spear fisherman in the Gulf of Mexico off of the Louisiana coast who, while diving around oil rigs with his buddies, gets into a fight to the death with a 12-foot tiger shark. See overrated story here.

While there are many articles out there about this amazing struggle between man and beast, I chose that one as my link due to its particular wording: "A brave man named Craig Clasen beat the shark then shot it seven times with spear guns and then finished it off with a big knife."

That is an actual paragraph in that story. It sounds like a second grader wrote it, but that is not the point that I am trying to make. This shark did not have to die. Not like this. These dudes are assholes. You, Craig Clasen, are not brave. You, Craig Clasen, are an asshole. Here's why:

Craig Clasen and his bros are spearfishing for tuna. I don't know about the rest of the manly men involved, but I can see from pictures (one of his bros happened to be carrying an underwater camera- convenient!) that Craig was not wearing a scuba tank, but only a snorkel. That scores him one point, as he was clearly at a disadvantage in the "breathing" department. Secondly, according to all involved, the buddy with the camera was using the camera to fend off the shark's deadly (or perhaps- romantic?) advances, so Craig had to step in to save him. That scores Craig another point, this time in the "reasonably aggressive" department. Craig gets only two points.

First, these geniuses were spearfishing under an oil rig in the freakin' Gulf of Mexico. They seemed surprised when this shark began circling, and (sort of) attacking. Dumbasses.
A) It is well known that the Gulf of Mexico is home to several species of shark. In fact a search of the internet turned up 49 different shark species known to inhabit the Gulf of Mexico at various times of the year, including (but not limited to) the Tiger shark (gasp) and the Great White shark (badass).
B) It is even more well known that sharks are attracted to blood, and to the movements that are given off by an injured, distressed creature. Guess what bleeds and moves in an injured, distressed fashion? Tuna, when you stab it with a spear attached to a rope, that you shoot out of a gun. Who knew? EVERYONE.
C) Sharks routinely hang out underneath oil rigs, because of the abundant food supply. There have been studies about this.

Secondly, even if we completely ignore the fact that these morons were basically wearing shark bulls eyes, we cannot ignore that they were asking for it by hanging out inside of the shark's house. In fact, they were hanging out inside of the shark's kitchen, stealing her food. There is a reason why I do not hang out under oil rigs. It's because I do not want to be eaten by a shark. And yes, the shark was a chick. Way to go, Chris Brown! I mean... Craig Clasen.

Third, Craig Clasen "the brave man" with the "big knife" (hello? Use adjectives much?) shot the shark a whopping seven times with spear guns. Multiple spear guns. I have a problem with this for two reasons. One, because he shot the shark once, and it was leaving. However, Craig was worried that this wasn't humane, and that the shark shouldn't suffer. So instead of leaving her to her own devices and to the will of the universe, he shot her six more times. Poor thing got stabbed more than your sister on prom night. (Yes! Comedic, unnecessary vulgarity!) This was humane? Shooting a shark with seven spears, and then killing it with your "big knife"? My second problem is that I doubt there were seven loaded spear guns under the water at one time, and that Craig was holding his breath during the entire ordeal. He had to have surfaced with his snorkel, and he had to have either reloaded, or borrowed guns from his buddies. Either way, that makes me doubt the fierceness of the battle. It almost makes it seem like Craig was more interested in telling an awesome story, than in "putting her out of her misery."

Fourth, after the shark was finally dead, they cut a piece of her flesh out sashimi-style and ate it triumphantly. Then they had the nerve to complain about how gross the texture of the meat was. And the picture of Craig, the humane and remorseful hunter, that was published in magazines and newspapers really helps his version of events. He was so haunted and sad about what he had done, that he cut the jaws out of the shark for a trophy. He is seen in pictures holding up her tail and jaws, still with meat on them. Disgusting.

These idiots should not be celebrated. They are not heroes. Craig is not some awesome dude who killed a ferocious shark with a "big knife." Had he been holding his breath the entire time, and used only the knife... Then, yes. In those circumstances, I would have conceded that he is indeed a hero and an incredibly manly man. However, those were not the circumstances he faced. Sort of seems to me that Craig's "big knife" and aggression toward the chick shark were maybe outward signs of an internal struggle. Perhaps that's the only "big knife" that Craig has. Perhaps chick shark is the only chick to have circled in a while. Maybe this whole thing was just a needless display of machismo, performed to make up for other areas of Craig's life that aren't as exciting.

Or maybe Craig and pals really are just that stupid, and have seen the Jaws movies one too many times. If that's the case, then I would be careful if I were them. The ocean shall have her revenge. Probably in the form of mercury poisoning, as the shark meat that they ate was probably chock full of the stuff. Yum, boys! Eat up!

Plans don't always go as planned

So yesterday was supposed to begin a super-ridiculous week of awesomeness. Key words: "supposed to."

The reason that said super-ridiculous week of awesomeness (S-RWOA) was to begin yesterday is because Tuesday (March 17) is St. Patrick's Day, otherwise known as Fort Awesome's favorite day out of the whole year since early childhood. Yesterday, March 14 was the date of the local St. Pat's parade. While Fort Awesome has ridden in this parade for the past five or so years, Fort Awesome has never actually seen the damn thing.

So anyway, one of my good buddies from law school was supposed to be coming down for the parade. I haven't seen him since last year's parade, and I was looking forward to the crazy-cool shenanigans that always occur when we get together. We were going to put a couch in the back of his pickup, and watch the parade from that vantage point while drinking beers. It was to be called the First Annual St. Pat's Couch 'N' Keg. Key words: "to be called."

Buddy from law school bailed, because nobody else would make the four and a half hour drive with him. This left me with absolutely no plans, and nobody to watch the parade with. More importantly, I had no place from which to view the parade comfortably. The day before the parade, I learned that my aunt had invited me to her parade party at her house along the route. Game on! Everything was back on track. I excitedly called my aunt to get the details, only to be told that one of my cousin's best friend's brothers was killed the day before, and so the party was cancelled. Obviously, this was very sad news for two reasons: 1) It's always sad when a young life is tragically cut short, and 2) I was definitely going to spend the day at home by myself.

Serious side note: I'm so sorry to hear that news, Nick. My best to your buddy and his family.

So anyway, instead of hanging out with my awesome law school friend or my awesome cousin and his friends, I stayed home going through receipts so I can file my taxes. And paying bills. And doing laundry.

I was actually feeling pretty damn productive, and very much a serious adult. In fact, I had not operated my washing machine in approximately three months. Seriously. I divide my time between two cities, and usually do my laundry in City B. My house is in City A. So it's not totally gross... I have been wearing clean undies and whatnot, in case you were concerned about that. Anyhoo... I tossed all of my towels in the washer and cranked it on. After about a minute of the washer sounding like it definitely held an improperly balanced load, it stopped altogether. Shit.

I decided that all hope was not lost. I could fix the washer. I would fix the washer! I started to reach my hand into the washer, but then I intelligently remembered to turn it off first. Smart move! That's how I got into Mensa! I ended up having to stick my hands into the slimy, soapy, gross towel water in order to unwrap the towels that had coiled around the agitator and prevented it from agitating. After spending several minutes elbow-deep in the slimy soapy water, I believed to have the problem corrected. I turned on the washer, and huzzah!!! It worked!

So while I did not hang with friends or go to my beloved parade, I did have a mostly-organized collection of receipts for the IRS and I had a dryer full of clean, dry, fluffy towels. Additionally, it stormed all day. The first year that I don't ride in that parade, the city has the worst St. Pat's parade weather in around seven years. I am awesome. All in all, I was feeling pretty good about my day.

A couple of hours (and one delicious pizza) later, it was time for bed. As I was using the bathroom, I was reflecting on the pretty-okayness of my day. I smiled. I flushed. I started screaming and jumped into the bathtub.

The toilet began to overflow. Aggressively. We turned off the water, which should have helped. No. The water kept coming. From where- I don't know... It just kept coming and coming, and (horrifically enough) seeped underneath the walls into the half-bath and the walk-in closet. At least there was nothing on the floor. I immediately reached for towels to sop up the torrent of water, but... there were no towels to be found. They were all in the dryer.

Eventually, the water stopped coming out of the toilet. Handy household tip: When this type of catastrophe is happening, DO NOT flush the toilet to "see what will happen." Trust me. You do not want to see what will happen. And just like that- my day of productivity went down the tubes (unlike the water in the toilet). I was standing in my bathroom, surrounded by towels that had been freshly laundered just a few minutes earlier, but were now full of toilet water. Nice. Had I just left them dirty in the first place, I wouldn't have wasted a step.

However, all was not lost. Had I not washed the towels prior to that incident, things might have been worse in one way. Sticking my arms in soapy slimy water would have been definitely grosser had they been dirty because of toilet water. I suppose the universe decided that I needed to learn some kind of lesson, but at least it was kind enough to spare me a little bit of grossness.

Sometimes, I think that I should have my own reality show. Or a cartoon based on my life. Because my life is basically a fucking cartoon. Except that I drink and curse a lot, so it should probably not be the kind of cartoon that comes on Saturday mornings. And Bob Saget should do a voice on it.

While I am still holding out hope for the rest of the week to still be totally Awesometown, I am definitely expecting to have much Fort Awesome material for this blog.

The crazy old hoebag knows how to use Facebook

I received word this morning that a "sort of" family member deleted me off of their Facebook and Myspace friend lists. I'm really sad about it... (NOT). I mean, I had sort of forgotten that I was their friend in the first place. But it's not the fact that I was deleted that totally astounds me, it's why. It just doesn't make any damn sense, like the "Chewbacca defense" that Johnny Cochran used on South Park a few years back.

Anyhoooo... Here's what happened:

This "step-aunt" of mine likes to send out ridiculous mass emails, approximately three times a week. Usually, they are bullshit chain letters, like "OMG! I swear that if you send this back, tomorrow you will meet an angel that will give you the powerball numbers, and sort of look like some Asian chick you used to know! Do it!" I usually ignore them, and don't even open them. They're stupid, and I don't know why she decides to include me in her mailing lists anyway... but I have gone off course with the story...

Saturday, she sent out a mass email (that I didn't even see) that reminded everyone to change their clocks to "Spring forward." She made the subject line of the email something like "Daylight Savings Time Reminder!" My cousin apparently sent out a similar email several years ago, and some coworker of hers (who is sort of a douche, from the sound of it), made fun of her because it is actually "Daylight Saving Time," and there shouldn't be an "s" on the end of "Saving". My cousin has been haunted by this news, it seems, and so she send a reply email to the step-aunt (let's call her "Ann") to inform her of this supposed grammatical faux pas. She didn't hit "reply all," she just replied with a friendly note that passed on that knowledge that she had received years earlier.

"Ann" abruptly replied, "Well, I guess I can't do anything right!" My cousin felt bad, as she was not trying to be condescending (she says), and she tried to reply to that email in order to explain herself. Upon doing so, she discovered that "Ann" had blocked her email address. My cousin really wanted to clear the air with "Ann" (who happens to be her stepmother), so she attempted to contact her on Facebook, only to discover that "Ann" had deleted her ass, in a totally mature (for someone 35 years younger) fashion.

My cousin tried to get her sister to pass along a message via her Facebook account, but "Ann" had deleted her younger stepdaughter as well. She also deleted the first cousin's husband, the second cousin's fiancee, me and my husband. Her daughter also deleted all of us. None of us care, because none of us wanted to be her friend in the first place. We just felt really awkward to get a friend request from her, and felt like we had to add her.

But it gets even dumber than that. We compared notes on "Ann's" craziness level, and discovered that "Ann" has apparently been stalking us all on Facebook, and using pictures and other information to try and get us into trouble with our parents. The flaw in this plan is that we are all well over the age of 21 (and in some cases, 31) and our parents stopped giving a crap about what we do a long time ago.

My main thought in this matter is: Who the fuck does this kind of thing?

I would expect this kind of behavior from some dumbass 15-year-old, but even my dumbass 15-year-old cousin doesn't do that type of thing. Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that "Ann" is just a crazy old hoebag, with the sub-conclusion that she has waaaaay too much time on her hands. I am glad that I'm not her "friend" anymore, because at this level of immature nut-baggery I can only imagine what she would post as her "25 Random Things About Me." I have taken the liberty of putting that imagining into this blog:

"Ann's" 25 Random Things About Me (as imagined by Fort Awesome):

1. I like to buy dalmation puppies, and make coats out of them! They're warm and adorable!!

2. When I saw "Silence of the Lambs", I was really pulling for "Buffalo Bill."

3. The other day, I saw one of those Al Qaeda beheading videos... Hil-ar-i-ous.

4. When I get nostalgic, I like to pull out my old prom picture. It's nice to look back and remember the night my first child was conceived!

5. I hate babies, old people, the disabled and kittens.

6. I'm not crazy! Crazy people go to the psychiatrist. Kind of like how I am not an alcoholic, because I don't go to those stupid meetings.

7. Did I mention that I hate kittens? I should make some earmuffs to go with my dalmation coat.

8. I only like to watch Iron Chef when they use live ingredients. I get a secret thrill out of seeing them hook eels through the face while they're still alive. Well... I guess it's not much of a "secret" anymore.

9. I work for UPS, and the best thing about my job is all the cool gifts I "find" for people on my route. (Don't pay any attention to the fact that someone else's name and address are on the box).

10. I heart Rocky Road ice cream.

11. I sort of miss being a dude.

12. One of my grandchildren is named after one of the actors in "Dude, Where's My Car?" Guess which one!

13. Books are really scary, unless they have a lot of pictures.

14. I was totally surprised at the end of "Titanic" when the boat sank. Why couldn't it have a happy ending? Maybe like at the end of "Grease"... The boat could have flown off into the sky.

15. Have you ever seen that show "The Girls Next Door"? I sure wish I was as smart as Kendra Wilkinson.

16. I have always kind of wondered what a bottlenose dolphin would taste like.

17. My dream job is to be the one who works the gas chamber at the pound.

18. I enjoy knitting sweaters out of other people's hair.

19. I am desperately lonely when the voices stop. Good thing I hear them most of the time.

20. Nothing pisses me off more than blind kids. Just SEE already!!!

21. I like to play World of Warcraft, because I have always dreamed of being an elf.

22. Gandhi sucks.

23. Puring salt on slugs is the coolest way to spend an afternoon.

24. Isn't it awesome how everyone has an extra nipple on their back? I think it's the coolest.

25. Damn... I hate kittens.

Lessons learned on a family roadtrip

Last weekend, I had the pleasure of riding from New Orleans to Atlanta in a Dodge Minivan with four members of my extended family. My aunt, my 15-year old cousin, my grandfather and his wife. I love my family, and I don't get to spend much time with them, so I initially enjoyed the idea of spending some quality time with them. "Initially", being the key word in that sentence. I don't regret agreeing to ride with them (instead of purchasing a first-class plane ticket, as was my original idea), but I did learn an awful lot on the road.

Lesson 1: Old people like to listen to bad radio (in this particular instance- Rush Limbaugh).

Corollary: Old people cannot hear well, so they like to listen to bad radio really loudly.

Corollary: Old people like to shout over talk radio, so that everyone in the vicinity understands where they stand on whatever is being discussed.

Corollary: If you ask them to turn up the one news item in which you are remotely interested (in this particular instance- a state wherein some measure of marijuana possession has been recently decriminalized), they will immediately turn it down to ask you what you said.

Corollary: If you ask them to turn the radio down, so that you can listen to your Audiobook (wonderfully read by the always delightful Neil Patrick Harris), you will be told that you should be more open-minded, and listen to viewpoints that are different from your own (even though they might not even know what your particular viewpoint is in the first place).

Lesson 2: Old people like to eat at the Cracker Barrel, Applebees and any restaurant where you can get some discount by ordering a particular item before a certain time of day. I think that the AARP must send out some kind of dining guide that sets out rules and recommendations for this type of thing.

Corollary: If you order a beer at Cracker Barrel, they will tell you that they do not serve alcohol because they are a family restaurant. If you point out that you are there with your family, they just stare at you like they want you to die.

Lesson 3: People from New Orleans are so afraid of the idea of snow, that they are willing to abort the whole mission and go home, regardless of the importance of the event that they are traveling to attend. FYI: the possibility of snow was two days ahead of when this panic descended upon the minivan in the parking lot of the prohibition-era Cracker Barrel.

Lesson 4: 15-year old boys suck. They are cool for a while, but they just can't help reverting to being 15-year old boys, which are universally known to be total dicks.

Corollary: 15-year old boys have the stinkiest feet in the world, and have no problem putting them in your face, or on your pillow. However, they might also have some strange phobia of whatever might be on the bottom of your flipflops, and yell at you to take them off so you don't accidentally bump something with them that he owns.

Corollary: Seriously, Randal. Go see a doctor or something about your feet.

Lesson 5: The Comfort Inn is a misnomer. I had a one-inch gap under my door that I had to plug with towels (because a rat can fit through a hole the size of a quarter), none of the lamps in my room worked, and I heard the distinctive "drip, drip, drip" of the bathtub faucet dripping into a full tub. When I entered the bathroom in the dark and saw the full tub with the curtain pulled halfway, I was positive that there was a dead body in there. There was not.

Corollary: If you call to complain about the condition of your room, the Pakistani man who works there will come up to the room and condescendingly ask you if your lamps are plugged in properly (they were). He will also solve the problem of the gap under your door by giving you extra towels.

Corollary: Every towel in your room will feel like it was made with sandpaper or gravel.

Corollary: If old people are the ones to book the hotel rooms, they will choose the Comfort Inn, or the Red Roof Inn, or wherever they get some kind of "points" for staying. Again, I am convinced that this is the AARP's doing. Also, they will fight with you over the difference between a "hotel" and a "motel."

Corollary: Motels have doors that open to outdoors, while hotels open to hallways. Look it up, Jerry.

Lesson 6: In Atlanta, they apparently only sell alcohol at liquor stores or in restaurants. You cannot buy alcohol in gas stations or grocery stores, no matter how badly you need it.

Corollary: The liquor stores do not have shopping carts, and you are not well received if you ask about them.

Lesson 7: Before a roadtrip of this nature, be sure to inform smart-ass 15-year-old boy what topics of conversation are not acceptable in certain states.

Example: It is not okay to loudly ask in Alabama: "Who the hell is Bear Bryant?" It is even less okay to say that it is more important that Bear Bryant know who you are, and even less okay than that to say that Bear Bryant's hat looked stupid.

Example: It is not okay to loudly state in Georgia that they should really build some statues to General Sherman. After all, if he hadn't "passed through" all they would have to look at would be "old boring buildings and shit." Do not give General Sherman credit for there being modern buildings in Atlanta. Do not even jokingly suggest in a restaurant that they should rename Atlanta as "Shermanville."

Lesson 8: The GPS in your BlackBerry just gives up in Alabama. It doesn't know where you are, and it doesn't care.

Lesson 9: No amount of Xanax helps you relax enough to sleep in certain situations (like a Dodge Minivan). However, a giant meal at the Olive Garden and a glass of wine works wonders.

Lesson 10: Old people hate 18-wheelers, drivers on cell phones, people who eat while they drive, women who drive, people who drive with two many passengers in the car, and pretty much everyone who is driving who isn't them.

If I could go back in time, I would still ride in the van with my family. I would, however, attempt to get really drunk before doing so, regardless of how early in the morning we were leaving.