Also, collin has gotten a new site, so his link has been updated.
I hate driving. Quit looking shocked. As scared as I am of everything, you would think that propelling myself in a metal coffin down streets I’ve hardly seen before might result in a smile and a “Yippee!” of exuberation.
What are you, retarded?
There is nothing enjoyable about almost being dead every second you’re doing something. It could be that I’ve had more than my liking of accidents or that I’m pretty lazy, but I will do whatever (reasonably) possible to get out of driving somewhere. I walk a lot. I stay in a lot. I ask for rides a lot. I make friends, I meet people, everyone loves me.
My weekend’s automotive excursion was as exciting (and, oh, so much fun) as any I’ve had. This time I wasn’t alone. I had a goal. Much like Frodo and Saddam, I was put on a quest. Mine was to drive my cousin Brenna to my aunt Karin’s house so that she could get driven back to her little corner of Minnesota in St. Olaf. She’s a South Dakota native, so don’t hold MN against her.
Lacey: 10. One to screw it in and one to know binary.
Lacey: Wasn’t that funny? I made it up myself.
Me: Oh, God.
The trip went mostly well. We listened to Radiohead on the way down. I didn’t realize that she was a fan and was happy to hear that she knew the songs and wasn’t just feigning enjoyment. I usually hear things like, “Radiohead? They’re weird. Kinda like you, you freak.” Yeah. That’s about right.
Then we got to Sioux Falls. My mom had given me instructions to get to my Aunt Karin’s. No problem. But I had a change of plans. I wanted to stop by the mall first and eat Chinese food. Brenna was game (and by that I mean captive) so we started to follow my mom’s instructions, but I decided to mix it up a bit. Like by getting lost.
Sioux Falls is a confusing city. I heard someone say, “No it’s not.” I say, “Shut’tup.” I could remember (from one or two trips to Sioux Falls that I actually paid attention on) that the mall was on 41st street, but 41st stretches from one end of the EARTH to the other, it seems. We found 41st street, the glittering street of hip downtown businesses. Except for the moment it was the half-dirt street of suburbian hell.
So… many houses… so … similar….
Brenna had a panick attack and we had to exeunt the vehicle so she could revisit her bowl of cereal from this morning. Some suburban kids began to approach us. They wore glittering clothing from Abercrombie and they had never seen a car made before 2000. I had to fight them off Brenna with a stick because they didn’t understand the girls without American Eagle clothing are not witches or criminals.
We got back in the car and drove down Bahnson. Then we got to Sycamore. Then we came back to Bahnson. “This can’t be right,” I thought. We were just here. Literally just here. I drove forward. No turning. The roads turned from tar to dirt and then back to tar. We ended up on Bahnson again. How does this keep happening?
I gave up. I called my dad. I pouted. I decided that there would be no Chinese for me (or Brenn) even though I LOVE Chinese and it’s my favorite food and YES I will marry it, if I can, so don’t even try to mock me. I drove us back the way we came. We were beginning to enter a dirty part of town. We were surrounded by way too many laundramats and mexican fast food places.
I gave Brenna the choice of a lifetime. “Taco Johns or KFC?” She chose KFC. Excellent choice, I thought. I normally don’t think of Taco Johns as being overly … clean. We entered the KFC were there seemed to be way too many Samoan people to be a normal establishment. I got the buffet, but, go figure, there was only one piece of chicken there. They didn’t hardly replace the food. The food was chunky and sludgey. That’s right, sludgey.
The food was fine, but the overall place was a ‘C’ establishment. I did get a gumball in the end, so I got that going for me, which is nice. We got in the car and we got going in the right direction. I had planned on us getting to my Aunt’s house at 200. We left a little early, but with getting lost we ended up at Karin’s house at 300. Ooooooo, woops. It was fine, though, because that was when they wanted to leave anyway.
I got some comments once I explained the situation. “You don’t know where the mall is??” *snicker* “Do you want to follow me out to the interstate, Miles?” *smug smirk* “Do you want some help getting back to your car, sweetie?” *guffaws* So, after some derisive but cordial ribbing, I followed Amber to the interstate. That’s right; I’m not ashamed to say it. I had to follow a woman driver. But at least I can say that I got lost like a man.