Saturday, March 07, 2009

A Supposedly Fun Thing

Last Sunday, following two nights of no-holds-barred alcohol consumption that included Ken and our friend Aaron consuming a 1.5L bottle of White Zinfandel (...for real), we managed to clean out the remaining piles of crap from our apartment and load a bike, several boxes full of the aforementioned crap, an angry cat (complete with litter box!) and two tired, hungover people into a rented Chevy Impala for a roadtrip to Canada.

We (read: I) had originally set a goal for 8 a.m. departure because the drive is 10 hours and our unemployed selves can't afford a fancy motel. However, after another trip to storage, a stop at IHOP to stave off our collective increasingly low blood sugar, and various drop-offs in Brooklyn, we finally hit the road at 5:30 p.m., if by "hit the road" you mean "sat in standstill traffic waiting to enter the Holland Tunnel". At first I was optimistic: As we finally settled into a comfortable speed on the interstate, I suggested that maybe we could drive straight through.

About an hour later we were both done, and we spent the night in a Super 8 Motel in Binghamton. The Super 8 Motel very responsibly keeps the heat off in unused rooms. Given that the outside temperature was around 3F (-16C) and we could see our breath in the room, we cranked the heat. Before we turned in Ken lowered the heat so we wouldn't sweat ourselves out of the room in the middle of the night, but apparently it wasn't quite low enough because at 3 a.m. I had to get up to throw water on the rocks.

During the drive Monday Memphis was calm enough to ride on my lap. The side effect of her being uncontained was a lot of cat hair in the car. Everywhere. By the time we crossed into Canada my left eye was swollen shut and I could only hope that the border guard wouldn't refuse me entry because of suspected pinkeye or because he thought I was a pirate.

We finally arrived in Waterloo about 3 p.m. on Monday. Memphis has been... well, she's been a total bitch since we got here. I get that she isn't thrilled about the dogs (who, incidentally, are about half her size) but enough with the leaky tire routine! I'm sure she'll adjust, and her M.O. this week of waking us up at 5 every morning has made it just a little easier to bid her adios for the year.

Up next: Ken learns Canadian! We kiss babies! Dinner at Swiss Chalet!

1 comment:

Sarah D. Bunting said...

...Swiss Chalet! It's the only chicken I miss.