GPS Coordinates Only

I will write about my adventures on a daily basis. The first entry is about my drive down to West Virginia.

July 4, 2011

Writing is my crack. I can’t go a day without writing. A journal entry- Facebook status – a hand written note – an email – a press release – a blog post – a text- it doesn’t matter; I need writing in my daily life. So when we left for vacation with no computer or journal, I knew I wouldn’t make it long.

The journal I got an hour into our trip from the Dollar Store.

I passed the time drinking Starbucks and reading Chelsea Handler’s new book, which always inspires me to write a book one day. And I know I will.

My favorites. End of story.

Not long into the drive, Justin pulled over to the side of the road and turned on his hazards.

“Um- what are you doing?” I asked. “I can enter the address, you know.”

“Well- I am entering GPS coordinates- not an actual address,” he said.

GPS coordinates? Oh my….Right then, I realized why I never watch scary movies; I’m about to star in one. I was definitely stereotyping, but I imagined a man with missing teeth wearing  jean overhauls  with no under shirt and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. I was thinking of the movies “Delievrance” and “Wrong Turn” and trying even harder to forget I ever heard of those movies…

“I really don’t think you understand where we are going Ash,”Justin said laughing and studying the look on my face.

No, I don’t. Where is the beach? I’m hitchhiking after the next exit.

***

We barely made it 45 minutes into the trip before I had to pee. Like a child, I didn’t pee before we left the house. Yes, Justin reminded me of this child-like mistake. But, I informed him the Starbucks didn’t help because it quickly went through my system.

We pulled over at the next gas station. It is a tragedy I wasn’t wearing the GoPro into the gas station because this crowd was truly unbelievable. I prayed for my safety was I approached the jail-cell looking doors.

To my surprise, the gas station suddenly turned into a fried chicken shop. I’ve never seen that much fried chicken in my life- not even at KFC. Not to mention, they were selling buckets of nacho cheese with the fried chicken. Interesting combination.

The cashiers looked at me as if I was an illegal alien and I searched frantically for the bathroom. I spotted a door with  a large sign on it just past the giant chicken deep fryer.

The note said:

“ATTENTION: THIS IS A PUBLIC RESTROOM! THIS IS NOT A PLACE FOR YOU TO DO ILLEGAL SUBSTANCES! ALSO, ONE PERSON IN THE BATHROOM AT A TIME.”

Instantly I had a few questions running through my head:

  1. How many people were doing “illegal substances” in this bathoom? 
  2. Is this an every day occurrence? 
  3. At what point do you decide to post this note? 
  4. Every hour? 
  5. Did one person ruin it for all the other crackheads?
  6. How many people tried to fit into this bathroom at the same time?

As I pondered these questions, I looked up and saw half of the ceiling was missing…I knew someone was either watching me or taping me. I tried to hurry and I thought about doing the Sun Drop booty dance, thinking the creepy dealers at fried chicken capital of the USA would submit my tape. Maybe they could fix the ceiling, sink and leaky toilet with the money they earned from my submission.

I tried to find my phone to take a picture of all of this, but I left it in the car. Of course.

As I walked out of the bathroom, everyone watched me leave. So I smiled and wipped my nose.

“We have to get the hell out of here!” Justin said immediately once I got into the car. “I thought I was going to have come in and save you. And why do you smell like fried chicken?”

Until my next adventure….

Much love,
Ashley

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