I like road trips normally. I spend the most of the time snuggled into a ball, catching up on sleep while music from my headphones seeps into my dreams.
Except when my mom drives.
She’s got all the energy in the world before we hit the road, but about an hour into the journey, I glance over and see her eyelids drooping and her arms hugging the steering wheel. Like clockwork. It scares me damn-near shitless, which goes without saying, since the bulk of most of our journeys are on I-95, one of the deadliest highways in the nation. I help drive occasionally, but driving on major highways always makes me nervous. She was alright this time, for the most part. She stays loaded up on those 5-Hour Energy drinks, and she’s good. This drive was longer than the usual trips to Orlando or Jacksonville, because we were visiting my sister and my mother’s best friend in Tallahassee. That’s about a 6 hour drive from home. About three hours into our journey, however, traffic came to a complete stop for about an hour. People began exiting their vehicles, choosing to abandon the comfort of their A/C and opting instead to stand in the middle of the turnpike in one-hundred-and-too-fucking-hot-degree weather. Taking photos, talking amongst each other as though it were some sort of reunion.
I’ll be honest. I seriously considered taking my silly self out there and planking in the middle of the turnpike. Then my mother reminded me the asphalt was probably hot enough to burn a hole through my shirt and both my tits. I didn’t mind the wait though. Gave my mom a chance to have a cat nap and broke the monotony of glancing at endless billboards of “18 days after conception, my heart is beating!”, “Titanic: The Experience”, and random titty bars with skanky names. (I don’t get to use the phrase “titty bar” nearly enough.)
We eventually got on our way, and made it to Tallahassee in the evening. It’s my first visit here. First impression: Small, and very country. We met my mother’s colorful friend and my sister at a buffet restaurant. As we headed inside, there was a small pool of vomit near the entrance. My mother said “…Does this mean the food’s not good?”
It did not. It was quite a nice meal of southern home cooking, minus the home. We had a good time, lots of laughs and catching up. I haven’t laughed so much in a while. The dinner was the end of our evening, since my mom and I were tired from traveling all day. We headed to my sister’s apartment. Soon as I got out of the car, I heard all sorts of crazy noises. My sister said they were ducks. Must’ve been a hundred of them congregating in the bushes. My sister says they’re always in the roads, “Quackin’ it up.” And I definitely heard a few “ribbits” in there. Ahh, nature.
So now we’re here, relaxing, and drinking wine. With the exception of me, who’s also blogging. Overall, a good start to my little vacation, I’d say.