It was supposed to be a quick, easy road trip—back in no time at all. At least that's what I was told.
In my usual pessimistic manner, I had expressed some initial doubts about the validity of those claims, perhaps to the disgust of my fellow travelers. It seemed our itinerary was unclear and the trip itself would cost each of us a pretty penny.
""What if we get lost along the way or things don't go as planned?"" I said with considerable apprehension.
""Stop being a wimp. Aren't we friends? After all we've been through together, won't you just trust me for once?"" insisted my friend G-Dubs, the organizer of this whole suspicious affair.
Up to this point in our friendship I hadn't given him much credit, considering his reputation for bad decision-making. But everyone else seemed convinced, so I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt this time.
We all piled into the car and things went fairly well on the way there. There were only small disagreements over which grade of gas to get and what the plan of action would be once there.
My fears were mostly allayed when we arrived on schedule at our destination, which turned out to be little more than a rundown tourist trap, tacky gift shop and cheap gas station.
""Mission accomplished!"" G-Dubs exclaimed as he proudly stood on the hood of the car. For some reason I remember he was wearing one of the silliest outfits I'd ever seen.
We stuck around for a few days and celebrated our freedom from responsibility. But after a few days wrecking havoc around town, I began to get homesick. Plus, a quick glance at my wallet revealed we were way over budget—not to mention the locals were becoming increasingly agitated by our uninvited presence. I pleaded with G-Dubs to end the excursion and head home.
Although he insisted there were still loose ends, he reluctantly complied.
I'm not sure if it was the hangover or just a bad sense of leadership and direction, but shortly into our trip home it was clear G-Dubs had taken a wrong turn. We were hopelessly lost in the middle of nowhere.
Unfortunately for us, G-Dubs isn't the type to admit mistakes, and he certainly wasn't going to listen to what anyone in the backseat had to say.
At this point G-Dubs turned around and started yelling at me for not knowing the way to get back faster. ""You do all your back seat driving, but I don't hear any better plan.""
I wasn't sure how to respond to this, since I was neither the one driving nor did I have access to the map, which was being hoarded by passengers in the front seat.
""There's a gas station I saw about 100 miles back. I think we should all go back and ask directions."" G-Dubs announced suddenly.
Before I could protest the stupidity of this move, he pulled a U-turn and we surged ahead, back into the abyss from which we came.
It was about this time we forced G-Dubs to pull over and we had a change of drivers. Good thing we did, too, because I don't think we would have ever gotten home otherwise.
