Okay. As of today we are officially one month away from us getting up at God knows what time prior to the ass-crack of dawn (though, honesly, we probably won’t even get up until 10, because Pete’s flight on Friday night doesn’t get in until MIDNIGHT. Listen Air Tran, I get that you can’t have direct flights into Charleston yet, because we’re a small airport and all, but I just don’t think it is reasonable that you don’t have any flights leaving Atlanta between 5:30 and 11:15 PM. Would it kill you to throw in a flight around, say, 9 or so?) and begin our monumental trek of 1,000 miles.
I am dreading the trip with every fiber of my being. I hate driving. It makes me lose my mind. Even if I have to drive 1 or 2 hours, it infuriates me. I feel like it is a complete waste of time and I can’t distract myself for longer than 5 minutes. Throw in the anxiety of being convinced that I am going to die in a horrible, fiery crash on the interstate and it doesn’t make for a good time. I know I start to get obnoxious after a while, too, but I just can’t help it. I guess I should take heart that when Pete and I drove to Alabama, we drove over 1,000 miles without killing each other. But it was spread over 5 days, and we got to do fun stuff like feed cows and go sailing in between.
This will also be the longest continuous road trip I’ve ever been on. My max so far has been just over 8 hours, and my mom was driving so I slept most of the way. I was also 15, so I had my seething resentment at the world in general to keep me entertained. And not only is it a long road trip, but it is a long road trip that will be almost continuously on interstate 95. Which means that we get to drive through fun cities like Washington, DC, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York! Doesn’t this look like fun:
Haven’t you always wanted to drive through Manhattan? (please excuse me while I go vomit and take care of these hives that have just broken out all over me…)
Such is the diffculty that my life entails. No, I’m kidding. This isn’t really a big deal, I just don’t have anything to write about. I mean, I am terrified about it and my palms are all sweaty just thinking about it, but Pete already told me that he would drive through all the hard parts, since he grew up having to drive around things like this:
What I REALLY don’t want him to find out about is how unbearably annoying I can be after 16 solid hours. I guess he better get used to it…
(Oh, by the way, they close on the house on the 31st, and I’m not saying anything else about it before then. Because, you know, the cursing,)