How the Medulla detaches from the spine, or I Am That I Am.
Associated parks:
None
"For I can be the next kid to bring guns to kill students at school. For I am Dark, Destructive & Dangerous."
Thursday, May 24th started like any other day. I live in Snoqualmie, Washington (near Seattle), and as typical for late spring, the morning was awash in something not unlike rain, or at least a close semblance to it. It was coolish, and beads of moisture clung to my car as I slammed the trunk shut, and left my tiny burg of a town.
I figured I might as well spend a few early hours at work, since I’d be out of the office for the next 5 days, and had to do last minute preparations anyway. Going to work wasn’t the thing I really wanted to do, though, and ultimately, I ended up whiling away the time online, talking to buddies at the last minute, and generally wasting my time until I could head off to the airport.
My “riding partner” this trip was a fellow office mate of mine named Santiago Ramos. I’ve known Santi (as he likes to be called) for some time now, and figured he would be a good “bring along” as he’s single, and came to CAC at the last minute in September, 2005. Others had met him as well, so they were looking forward to seeing him again, and he them. We climbed into my hot sexy Audi, and bolted towards the airport.
Southwest had good prices, especially since I had purchased them prior to the latest gas crunch, and have always been a decent airline, so we were pretty stoked to be with them. They’ll always beat United or Delta in my book. We got there early enough to get first dibs on the A seats after the kids, and handicapped travelers boarded. We ended up sitting in the exit rows. Good for us, and great for me, given my fairly long legs.
One flight to Nashville, please.
The flight was non-stop, and fairly eventless. We spent the majority of the time reading, as I had a fresh copy of the latest Rolling Stone, and Santi carried along the Washington State constitution. I know that sounds absurd, but there’s a reason. Santi is pursuing the Washington state representative position in District 42. All I can say is he’s nuts, but he believes in it. Besides, someone has to do the job, and God knows it sure isn’t going to be me. I’m a wishy-washy middle class suck up. ;)
Just prior to crossing the border into Missouri, we encountered some great turbulence. I love turbulence. As soon as it hit, and the pilot put on the fasten seatbelts sign, I was tossing my hands into the air like an Oreo chomping circus geek. All I needed was drool, and a breath powered wheelchair.
Oddly enough, the fellow sitting next to me was a former, and retired, Air Canada pilot who immediately went into a full on description of what kind of turbulence we were encountering (apparently, there are many types), and how the current pilot would probably fly around the various storm cells that were developing. After I stopped yawning, I realized he had some pretty interesting things to say. He also set my mind at ease, even as I bounced back and forth between happy, and freaked out, depending on the intensity of the turbulence.
It wasn’t the last time I’d encounter scary intensity over the weekend.
A nice landing, and we pulled into the terminal.
Santi and I had purposely brought our luggage in carry-ons so we could scurry out of the airport as quickly as possible. We needed to rent a car, and get up to Louisville, because we had plans to hit SFKK early on Friday. As we stood up to depart, I grabbed my bag. Santi yelled out rather quickly that he couldn’t find his bag. Sometimes, the attendants move bags around to make space for those that bring more than one carry on at a time. Sadly, this wasn’t the case today, as someone had inadvertently taken his bag, and left theirs. A few moments later, and we were talking to the Southwest baggage claim center, trying desperately to find the culprit. It was pretty obvious the bag left behind was his, and there was a number with his name. We made many calls, before admitting defeat. We left the airport in a brand new, although seriously underpowered Kia sedan, and headed out to find dinner, and our way out of town.
As we drove, I asked Santi to take the map out, and keep me on track. He did so, but we ended up talking so much about the lost luggage, what we were going to do, etc., that we missed out turnoff, and drove south for about 10 miles. Fortunately, we noticed the sun was behind us, when it should be in our face, and made a quick exit to head back north. We laughed a bit, knowing this trip was starting off so well, and drove through beautiful downtown Nashville.
As we headed north, we spied two things that caught our attention.
1) Kmart.
2) Hooters.
We hit up the wonderful Big K (K-Marche, K Fart, Bob Hope’s bloodshot eyes, whatever), and headed over to the men’s wear section. Wow, what goods. Santi tried out a few pairs of shorts, pants, and shirts. Apparently, in Mexico, a man dresses like a man, regardless of the heat that awaits outside, or the party that’s coming. Santi bought a few pairs of pants(!), no shorts, and a few long sleeve(!) shirts. All I could say is thank God my culture doesn’t impress on me the need to be conservatively cool. ;)
After the shopping debacle, we hit up Hooters, because nothing says The South like girls with D cups, heart shaped asses, and drawls. After the ogling that took place, and a few embarrassed stares later, we ate our wings and fajitas, and skedaddled out of there.
Until now, our drive was uneventful. Heck, we’d only been on the road about 30 minutes. We decided to stop at the rest stop a few miles up I-65. As we took the mandatory pee break, a nice southern woman kindly reminded us of the coming thunderstorm. She also noted that there had been reports of 2” hail.
Nice.
Back in the car, Santi and I decided that if it got too hairy on the road, I’d pull over under an overpass, and we’d ride out the storm there. After a few minutes, the night sky decided to “bring the noise,” so to speak, and lit up like WC Fields after an 8-ball, and a blowjob. It was fine initially, and was, in fact, quite exhilarating. I hadn’t been in a violent storm in the years since I’d left Virginia, so this was looking like quite the treat. Still, I was trying to be cautious, as the winds were picking up, and the lightning grew ever more frequent. Suddenly, the skies opened, and the Lord spit upon thee. It was an absolute torrent. I haven’t seen rain like that in years, and it was freaky. Santi commented that it looked like we had brought the car into a shower stall, with a really big showerhead. The main issue we were struggling with was the fact that there wasn’t an overpass to hide under. Not anywhere. Not no how. So…… we pulled off the road, and prayed that God wouldn’t decide to smite me today. Fortunately, we were in His good graces, because the 2” hail never came, and I didn’t have to use my insurance coverage to fix the rental.
After it was all said, and done, the weather service said there were 145 lightning strikes per minute at the height of the storm, and an F1 tornado touched down near Holiday World. As you all know now, the Kentucky Rumbler was struck by lightning as well.
Wow.
We finally arrived at our airport near SFKK. My good buddy Kyle (Recess) was there, but we arrived much too late to call, so we settled in for the night. I had purchased this ticket via Priceline, and was happy that I got such a good deal so close to the park, and in a quality hotel to boot. Only one issue really arose. 2 big burly men + 1 King size bed doesn’t match out too well. We decided it was too late to go back, and ask for another room, so we dug in our heels, painted a white stripe down the center of the bed, and tried to sneak off to sleep.
My problem is I rarely sleep well outside of home. Add in a half naked man, and two pillows that just don’t feel like Tempurpedic to me, and you’ve got a recipe for insomnia. Even though I was mildly jetlagged, I was still dog tired, but the former combinations, and a salty/humid room weren’t helping. The final straw is that I typically sleep naked, but Santi was having NONE of that, so…. On went the underwear.
Little did he know that after he fell asleep, the BVDs came off. ;)
Part 2 coming…….
The Flying Turns makes all the right people wet - Gonch
-Tambo
However, as I said to you earlier, you set a new benchmark for TRs with your SFMM/X trip. You have a lot of work to do to even come close to it's glory for Pt. 2. :) *** Edited 6/1/2006 3:44:45 PM UTC by Peabody***
/eagerly awaiting pt. 2
*** Edited 6/1/2006 9:54:52 PM UTC by MrX***
I look forward to the conclusion of this obvious craving for attention TR :)
Chuck
Seriously though. Can't you keep it in your pants for one night? :) I sleep in the nude also, AT HOME.
Keep up the excellent work and I'm eagerly awaiting the sequel which looks like it just hit #4 on the Amazon pre-order list.
I'll work on it again this evening. I should post it by tomorrow.
Thanks for your concern. ;)
The Flying Turns makes all the right people wet - Gonch
The Flying Turns makes all the right people wet - Gonch
You must be logged in to post
