ROAD TRIP FROM HELL
CHAPTER ONE - The Journey Down Under
It was Saturday, January 17th, and the first order of business was to get to BWI to fly to Houston. Scooter was in Florida at the time, and would meet us later in Texas. The five of us, then, would depart Baltimore, and arrive in Houston around noon-ish. JC already had our RV travel directions and timeline mapped out: By about 2:00-3:00 that afternoon, we should depart Houston, and by 8:00 we should be in New Orleans.
JC was the first to order a drink on the plane, and others were quick to join in. He had a fistful of drink coupons from his prior travels, so the liquor came fast, furious, and free! I myself decided to get some shut eye; I knew the road ahead called for little sleep. When we arrived in Houston the damage was done, as Kostival, Don, and JC were pretty much ‘fit-shaced’. Many, many mini liquor bottles were slain on the journey to the Lone Star State, and these fellas were eager to keep the party going.
Two things were planned to happen at the Houston Airport. The gentleman selling the RV was to meet up with us there, and take us to the RV to finalize the payment and paperwork, and we would hook up with Scooter who was flying in from Florida. The news of our first change of plans came in: Scooter missed his connecting flight, and would not arrive in Houston until much later. We decided we would come back for him once we obtained our house with wheels. So we waited on the arrival of the seller. And waited. And waited.
It seemed like hours, but the owner of the RV finally came. It was after noon already, so we were eager to get the RV. The gentleman drove a shuttle bus to pick us up, just like the ones you would jump on at the airport. He was a true Texan, with his drawn out slowed speech and southern accent. Accompanying him was his 6 year old son, who decided to play jungle gym the entire trip to the RV. This boy was jumping all around, climbing on our luggage, running up and down the aisle. Seatbelts be damned. We watched in awe.
The morning buzz that my compadres had was slowly wearing off, so we decided to stop at a convenience store to pick up a few silver soldiers. Coors Light was the 16 ounce can of choice, so we got a couple of six packs and jumped back on the bus. We immediately began pounding the beers, still excited for the upcoming saga.