Road trips are just like insane asylums – they’re better when you’re drugged.

Why is it that whenever someone suggests a road trip it sounds like the best idea in the world and you can’t help be excited? Then once you get on the road you’re like, “why the HELL did I agree to this?” Does this happen to anyone else or is it really just me? I go through this every time a road trip comes up. It’s like I completely forget how bad they are even though I almost died during a road trip. I’ll get to that later though.

I haven’t gone on any since last September which was my least eventful one ever. The most that happened was the trip eventually led me to Washington D.C which meant having to ride the metro all over the place and I’m afraid of trains. Seriously. Smart idea for an anniversary trip huh? Anyway, my more eventful ones took place on the long distance trips but yet all the shit happened in the same two states. Have you ever driven on the New Jersey Turnpike? If you have, you’re probably nodding and thinking ‘oh, I know where this is going!’ Well, jump in for the story anyway because it’s why we’re all here.

Road Trip One:
This particular trip was my first real ‘road trip’ that traveled more then two states away, which in New England isn’t really all that far. No matter where you’re going, if you need to leave the New England area you must drive through New York and get on the New Jersey Turnpike for at least a little bit. You can’t avoid it. You just have to grip the armrest and hope to the high heavens that you make it out to the other end. Anything you see, hear and witness in between is just part of the trip and makes for an interesting story.

We tried to time going through New York to be during the low traffic hours and pretty much failed but at least we were moving most of the time. It wasn’t enough to blow past the crazies though. The first thing we ran into was a man I named “Crazy Phone Man”. We were on the highway and at that particular time in a stop and go situation. To our surprise, walking (yes, walking – on a highway) among the cars were three men. They were going up to car windows trying to sell cordless phones. We must have been lucky though because the particular crazy man that came up to our car thought to wrap the phone in cling wrap. Such a thoughtful guy, huh? He couldn’t brush his hair but he made sure the phone was safely swaddled in cling wrap. The best part, the phone wasn’t with its base. Yes, it was just the phone itself. If hitting the automatic door lock button repeatedly made the car any safer then we would have been a rolling Fort Knox.

To my Mom’s horror and my brother’s delight, we were later flashed by a big breasted woman on the New Jersey Turnpike. I don’t mean a quick peak and we were on our way. No. I mean she lifted her shirt and smashed her breasts up against her window for everyone in our car and lane to see. My brother literally asked if we could slow down so she could give a second show. If he had singles on him they probably would have been blowing out the window along with an excited “bravo!” She also decided to flash an 18 wheeler right after that and the guy slammed on his breaks. Luckily no one crashed but imagined that headline! “Blonde woman causes turnpike shutdown with nipples.” Her mother would be so proud.

Road Trip Two:
This trip took place a couple years after the one above. We made it through New York without much happening except seeing a man peeing on the side of the highway for all to see. Compared to everything else, that seemed mild. The smooth sailing ended once we were on the Turnpike (again). Traffic was steady but not bad. We were consistently going at highway speed which is honestly a miracle for the time a day we were traveling. Everything was going great and no one saw any boobs when suddenly a car cut right in front of us and nearly collided with another vehicle in the next lane. We had to slam on our breaks and turn to avoid colliding with the idiot and literally ended up at a complete stop – facing sideways.

This meant the 18 wheeler a few car lengths behind us had to slam on his breaks. Have you ever seen this happen? These beasts of a truck don’t exactly stop on command. It’s more like a few second delay especially at that speed. All in the matter of seconds (that felt like forever) we watched as this massive truck came bouncing down the lane towards us. The poor driver was trying so damn hard to stop his truck that it was literally shaking. Amazingly he stopped just inches from the passenger side of our car. I could have reached out and stroked the damn grill! No one ended up hitting anyone else and I really have no freaking idea how we didn’t all become a massive car pile up. As far as I know no boobs were involved in this mess but who really knows what that guy was in such a rush for?

You really need a damn vacation when you literally end up inches from your death.

WORST/BEST ROAD TRIP:
Ironically my best and worst road trip was one we took to New Jersey. We were going to the Six Flags Great Adventure and it was exactly that, an adventure. The trip was doomed from the start as the morning we got up to go, I threw up. I had no idea why and didn’t feel sick but blew chunks about an hour before we planned to leave. Since I still wanted to go and insisted I would be fine I ate some apple sauce (I don’t really know why though) and off we went. Everything was good until we hit Connecticut and I threw up again. This continued for a little while until I was pretty much vomited out and completely sworn off apple sauce for the near future. When we stopped for food I stayed in the car because food was the enemy at the time. By the time we reached the hotel though, I was completely fine and starving. It really made no sense.

The next day I was back to normal and we were off to the park. We rented those speedy pass things that let you blow by the people waiting for hours and hop right on your favorite ride. They’re awesome. We were having a blast until it was time to ride their Superman ride. I’m a roller coaster addict so I had no intention of skipping any of the rides and happily rode in the front row. It was my last ride of the day. For some reason the ride left my back screaming in pain and I was in tears. Even though I’m usually fine on rides that one really kicked my ass. I was in so much pain that I could barely stand walking and couldn’t even think about getting on another ride. Since our group split up I was stuck at the park for the day as no one brought cell phones. I spent the rest of the day slowly following my friends and brother around the park and sitting on benches in tears. When we finally caught up with my Mom I was near breaking point. We skipped the fireworks and headed right back to the hotel where everyone else was dropped off and my Mom and I took a trip to the local ER. I was in so much pain that my Mom was afraid I seriously injured my back.

After a few x-rays and exam in the ER it was determined that I didn’t do any serious damage but had basically pissed my muscles and spine the hell off. The doctor prescribed some drugs and told me that I was too thin to handle roller coasters. If I wasn’t in so much pain I probably would have thanked him for calling me thin and then told him he was crazy if he thought I was to never ride a roller coaster again. Once we got back to the hotel I was in love with that doctor. He prescribed Vicodin and muscle relaxers. Pain, what pain? I was passed out cold within 15 minutes of being in the room.

The next morning it was time to head back home and we all piled into the car. My Mom gave me my morning dose of magical drugs as we pulled away from the hotel. Ten minutes later I was out cold. I slept the entire 4 hours home! That, ladies and gentlemen was the best road trip I’ve ever been on. I fell asleep at the highway entrance in New Jersey and woke up in our driveway 4 hours later. It was beautiful. I missed the traffic, the road rage, the crazy ass people all over the place, the complaints, the bad music and the roadside bathrooms.

Moral of the story:

Don’t go on road trips and if you do, take some vicodin and muscle relaxers and it will be the best damn vacation you’ve ever had. You’re welcome. Send me a postcard from vicodin land when you get back!

This is probably why I should have been an only child.

Anyone that grew up with siblings knows that it’s sort of the job of the older sibling to torture the younger ones. Well, I took that job very seriously. Don’t get me wrong, I love my younger brother and couldn’t imagine not having him around but when we were growing up, torturing him was like my favorite pastime. It drove our parents’ nuts!

There’s about a 3 and ½ year difference between us so by the time he was born I was very happy being the only child. I liked our routine and that I didn’t have to share my Mom with anyone. I was thrilled when I visited him in the hospital but I apparently thought he was supposed to stay there because I was pissed when they brought him home. I literally told my Mom, “Take him back!” I suddenly had to share my room with a screaming baby who had colic and there was baby stuff everywhere. Plus, I thought my Mom was much too busy taking care of him so I wanted him to leave. When he was a baby my Mom left the room to answer the phone and left him lying on a blanket on the floor. My little evil streak came through and I stole the poor innocent baby that was my brother and put him in the little garbage can in our bathroom. I’m horrible, I know. I even left him there and went back to my movie in the living room. Poor kid. He wasn’t in there long as when my Mom came back in she asked me where he was and I feigned innocence claiming to not know. His piercing scream quickly led her to his location, covered in dirty tissue. It’s safe to say I had a particularly long time-out that day.

What’s sad is that’s not the worst thing I ever did to him. It was just the first thing I did that showed my Mom what she was in for. I once even told her to, “take his batteries out” one of the days he seemed to cry for hours on end. She didn’t find that too funny at the time but now thinks it’s hilarious! I wasn’t always mean though. When he was old enough I helped him learn to walk using my toy shopping cart. Although the joke now is that I had an ulterior motive, since the torture really began once he was fully mobile. He was like my own personal entertainment even though I would get in trouble each time I did something to him. I either didn’t learn my lesson or it was just too much fun to get him into crazy situations. I think it was the latter but who really knows.

Being a crazy daredevil boy he was into climbing trees but never went too high. Well, at least not when I wasn’t around. One day in particular I kept coaxing him to climb higher and higher. For some reason he always listened to me (talk about not learning your lesson) and went much too high for his age. He freaked himself out and was too scared to climb down. He was clutching the tree for dear life and crying his little heart out. I at least went to get our parents though, so it’s not like I had a heart of stone and left him there or something. My Dad and his friend had to climb up the tree to get him down. It wasn’t THAT big of a tree anyway, but big enough that a ladder was used to retrieve him. At first my Mom thought he got himself into that situation but he quickly tattled and I was back in time-out for “trying to kill your brother!” I wasn’t really trying to kill him, maybe trying to toughen him up a bit. Insert evil laugh here.

I think the worst thing I ever did was burry him alive. Yes, I buried him. In our backyard. Up to his chest. That’s normal sibling behavior right? Ok, maybe not but it was funny for me at the time. I don’t remember why there was a huge hole in our backyard but I think it had something to do with sewers being installed. Anyway, I convinced my brother to get in the hole and I filled it in around him. He was completely buried up to the middle of his chest, arms and all. He couldn’t move and started to panic when he realized I probably wasn’t going to un-burry him anytime soon. I would have, eventually but he was driving me nuts that day throwing nasty worms at me so I was getting him back. It was completely even revenge really. He eventually started screaming and my Dad came outside and was seriously pissed that I buried him. He tried just pulling him out but it turns out I was a good dirt packer back then and he had to literally dig him out. My Mom was mad when she got home and found out what happened and I got the whole, “don’t you ever burry your brother again! Ever!” I’m convinced most kids probably hear that at some point in their lives.

The good thing is he’s a completely normal young man now so it’s really okay. I didn’t traumatize him and he wasn’t mister innocent either. He had his fair share of torturing me in his day. Oh, I also painted his toe nails once convincing him it was normal. He then went to the pool with plenty of people around with bright red toe nails. My Mom wasn’t too happy with that either. Neither was my Dad. Something about not turning his little boy into a little girl.

Basically when my husband and I have children, I’m completely screwed. My Mom always told me, “you’re going to have kids just like you,” when I did things that drove her nuts so my kids are going to be burying their siblings and getting them caught in trees as cross dressers.

My family must have a good sense of humor though, because we all find these stories to be hilarious now. I also protected him a lot when he was really little. It was kind of a whole ‘only I could torture him’ thing I had going.

Was any of this normal? Seeing it all written out makes me wonder if I was a seriously weird child.

She thought my vagina would be afraid of the woman’s public bathroom.

Today, people see me as a nice and normal (on the outside, I look just like you) woman, but when I was teenager I was a total bitch! Maybe it was the hormones or the fact that I had an attitude the size of North America, but I was a preppy girl with a serious grudge against the world. That almost makes sense if you don’t think about it too much and kind of smack yourself in the head. Go ahead and try it, I’ll wait. – Please note: I’m not responsible for any concussions so don’t even think about calling that injury attorney on TV at 3am because I’m just a figment of your imagination and it won’t hold up in court. Contemplate THAT.

Anyway, I was kind of crazily overprotective of my younger brother. Think rabid bear protecting her cubs, minus the fur, foaming of the mouth, and flesh tearing claws – that was more or less me. Even if he completely started it and I saw him do it, it didn’t matter and I wouldn’t let anyone get him back. Some girl once decided to hit and push him down after he made fun of her for something. It was stupid because she did it in front of 3 other people who knew me and they came flocking to find me to snitch on what happened. I was like the mafia, someone hurt him and the news came immediately to me.

Just call me Don Juan.

The rabid part came out and I literally chased her around the campground we were in. Her friends ditched her and she eventually tried to hide. Only problem was she picked a WOMAN’S BATHROOM! She didn’t even lock the door and hid inside one of the literally three stalls. My friend and I were outside the door for a minute laughing at how stupid it was and I was all like, “does she think I’m afraid of the toilets?” After almost dying of laughter I went in and lost it laughing again when I realized that instead of using the deadbolt on the heavy outside door she hid behind a thin wooden stall with an eyehook lock. I was even a nice hostage taker/mafia leader and told her I wouldn’t kill her. Eventually she came out when she realized we weren’t leaving and I could just reach over the door and unlock the hook if I wanted to get her that bad. See, I wasn’t all stone, just partially.

She told me that he made fun of her for something she said that I totally don’t remember what it was because I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to her story. It was something about him setting off her trigger or something like that. I was all like, “I really don’t care what he did to you, DON’T EVER TOUCH HIM!” Then I got totally mean and all Sopranos on her and was like, “If you ever do it again, I’m going to make your face a permanent part of the pavement.” I would have never hurt her, but it was just letting her think I would that was enough. She literally avoided me after that. I never actually hurt anyone that went after my brother but I guess I had an awesome ‘I’m going to kill you mob boss face,’ because no one ever pushed it further then that.

Honestly, even if she ran into the men’s room I still would have followed her in. My vagina was a badass and wasn’t afraid of the toilets or urinals, even though they’re very strange things to even think about peeing in.

We should all totally have our meetings in the men’s room next to the urinals. Keeps everyone on their toes.