Am I a Hoodlum?

Day: 112

Am I a Hoodlum? I woke up wondering this morning, I wasn’t so sure anymore. The thought crossed my mind when I was standing on the curb last night with the police and Matt asked one of the officers;

“Do you truly think we are a menace to society?”. The officer responded “No.” but it got me thinking about all the borderline Hoodlum-ish things I have accomplished in the last 112 days. I walked out on a check in Czech(Day 55), threw a plate into the Mediterranean(Day 32), Trick the bartender into giving me free beer(lots) at the Heiniken Brewery (Day 58), an assortment of days being really drunk in public, some light drug use and now this.

We were all finally up and ready around two in the afternoon and wondered off to see everything Daytona had to offer starting with Go-Kart rides for the entire group, followed shopping for a new hat and some beach time including an impromptu soccer game with an assortment of new friends that we had came across on the beach. Although this turned out to be painful to me when I went for the ball, slid through the sand and crashed face first into some random guys teeth, busting open my face and leaving my beautiful face bloody. I headed over to the ice chest for ice for my face and a drink to help numb the pain. I love self medicating.

We made our way back to our house for some dinner (Jambalaya and BBQ’d salmon that Chad and I made) to clean up and get ready for the evening out. Becky (Aaron’s cousin) came out for the weekend so our count for this leg of the road trip is up to six. We set out to set the town on fire and see if all the Florida hype about partying is real.

Miranda Rights

Day: 111

After another badass Cuban lunch we loaded our car, said our goodbyes to Aaron’s grandparents, and filled into Skittles. We were headed to Daytona Beach, Florida, where I had found a three bedroom house with a spa to rent for four nights for less than $200 a night; and since we had one more friend, Ryan, coming out to meet us we thought it would be way sweeter than a hotel room. When we arrived after a two hour drive a man name Harry met us at the house, took our money and let us in. We quickly felt at home and were mixing drinks before we took a stroll around the beach to see what the next four days would consist of.

We started drinking and before we knew it was last call and the lights came on in the bar, killing my precious night vision. I had been talking to a fellow photographer (and sexy lady), Lu, and tricked her into heading down to the beach for a walk along the deserted sands and even a moonlit swim in the warm Florida water before she headed off to her room for bed and I set out to find a taxi back to the house. Everyone else had headed back about an hour before, so when I got back to our house I expected everyone to be asleep. That was the case, except for Matt who had a beer in his hand and was about to set out to wander around alone through the streets of Daytona. He saw my cab coming and he was calling my name out as soon as the door opened and my foot hit the asphalt.

We wandered the deserted streets and beaches, swimming a bunch of hotel pools and the ocean, went back to the house for a refill and hit the beaches once more. Now Daytona was completely empty and it was coming up on 4 am and there was no one to be seen for miles in either direction. What are two drunk guys going to do completely alone other than start making trouble. We finally stumbled into a hotel pool and, after a quick swim, Matt lifted a life preserver from its perch and he and I set off down the beach with our booty. We wandered with the thing on his shoulder for a long time (time being relative to our state of mind) and decided to head home. Walking along the main drag, Matt ready to save someone from drowning, we made it about three blocks from home before Matt looks up and says:

“Shit, I think thats a cop.” He quickly, but without any form of stealth, proceeded to ditch his treasure in the bushes and we kept walking. The police car hit its breaks and flipped a bitch.

The spotlight hit us, “You boys dropped your life preserver.”

Blank stares from both of us as one officer went back to get the life ring and the other asked us where we got it.

Matt said “I don’t remember” at the same time as I said “We found it on the beach”

Damn. Our stories didn’t jive. We knew it, and they knew it. They started playing good cop/bad cop to scare us. We started talking, telling all, and I even tried to make a joke (to make friends with the Police) only to have the bad cop yell from the car:

“Do they think this shit is funny?”

“No officer… (hardly contained internal giggle)” I quickly replied.

We stood there ready to giggle while they ran all our information, read us our rights, took all our specifics, and took our pictures. We have officially been warned by the Daytona Beach Police Department. After fucking with us for about half an hour, they finally let us go after telling us they would try to return the life ring and let us hope the hotel didn’t press charges.

We staggered back to the house laughing the whole way, to wake up the other three boys for a quick five in the morning retelling.

Life can sure be funny.

Relax In Florida

Day: 110

We did absoultely nothing all day, except sleep, play on the internet, and eat Aaron‘s grandmothers Cuban cooking. At night Aarons cousin, Becky, and her friend Jayme took us out for a local night on the town in Lakeland , Florida. After a bunch of drinks we ended up a a little pub where I somehow managed to get behind the bar,wash their glasses and make shots for my friends. I don’t really know how this worked out but it felt comfortable to be back behind the bar, even if it was only for a few minutes.

Flat Tires and Morning Afters

Day:109

Tap, tap, tap.

“Housekeeping?”

“Nooo…” We all mumble in unison, or at least as close as we could get to unity after barely four hours of sleep and the mass quantity of drinks we took in the night before.

Shit. I realize after a few minutes that I am wide awake and won’t be going back to sleep. I get up, shower and get some blogging in, laughing as I look through last nights 300 pictures. There are things in there that I had forgot I had done, and some I wish I could have forgot forever. (Oh, and to complete my New Orleans visit I did manage to pull some tail last night. Score for Rob, literally)

Finally around eleven everyone else starts to get up, because of our noon check out time and the fact that we want to make it all the way to Aaron’s grandparents house near Tampa, so we have a 12 hour drive ahead of us. We packed our bags and headed to the elevator for a quick elevator party and to see how Skittles stay in New Orleans was. We hand the valet the ticket, and he drives her down, complete with a flat tire.

Double Shit; Must have been that mammoth six inch deep Katrina pothole I hit yesterday on the way into the city. The hotel maintenance guy filled our tire and gave us directions to the local Wal-Mart where we could get in patched. To make a long story about car maintenance short, we ended up with a new tire, a tripod, a belly full of Cracker Barrel (which made Aaron and I slightly sick to the stomach), and got back on the road around 3pm.

Hours of endless driving through three new states and we soon came to the realization of one undeniable fact: Florida is a big state. It was three-thirty in the morning before we found ourselves in muggy Lakeland Florida, being escorted through Aaron’s Cuban grandmothers home to the den where they had set up air mattresses for all of us. It was a welcome sight.

5 lbs of Shrimp

Day: 107

Bacon filled my nose at 9am while Heather made a giagantic breakfast full of bacon, eggs, pancakes, OJ and biscuits.

Matt and I chased cows off of the 5th green.

We followed through with some plans we made with George and Pam (the friends of Heather and Dean) to head out to the lake on one of their boats and have a three hour party. (We even spotted the elusive Oklahoman Beer Dragon)
We got back to the house to the smell of shrimp cooking and the tables covered in paper for Heather’s amazing Shrimp boil.

Extremely stuff, we loaded our car, said our goodbyes and got back out on the open road.

Crossed two new states, Tennessee and Arkansas.

Busy Day in OK

Day: 106

Dean, who is the captain of the local volunteer fire department, had to get up this morning at 4:30am to get to the station to start cooking the monthly firemans breakfast fundraiser. We, being the lazy bastards we are, set our alarm for 8am and were out of the house to have our all you can eat gravy covered breakfast by 8:30am. We meant lots of the locals who all seemed interested in our trip and all told us their advice on there local culture and road trip tips. We picked up a thirty pack and made our way back to the house for another round of golf, but had to wait for our hosts to return so we could get the clubs out of the office. We hung out on the porch and wrote, etc, etc, etc.

Finally around noon we headed out to the links. I lost by a landslide, I scored 45 on seven holes of golf. I think Dean won with something like a 28. Pathetic score, but in my defense, the beer had really started to kick in by the time we made it through the third hole. I decided, that after a thrilling defeat I should head down to the pier and do something I am sort of good at… floating in the water cooling off, and moving as little as possible. The afternoon rolled by and before we knew it we were getting ready for a Caribbean dinner party the Heather and Dean had been invited to (I wore a hawaiian shirt), and when they had told their hosts that they may not make it because of us, we also received invites. When we arrived at Kathy and Larry’s home we were greeted with cocktails and a plethora of older women (mostly 65+) who all wanted to have a good time. We got a slight buzz and ate until we were stuffed (on another note: all the weight I lost on my ride is already back, Dang!), and were the first to leave; As per Deans earlier instructions that he didn’t really want to hang out all night with these people and we should try to get out of there by 9pm so we could get some fishing in.

Back at the pier we all baited out hooks with minnows; within an hour Matt, Chad and I had all pulled in some catfish. Aaron, on the other hand, stood waiting for a couple of hours with no bites and finally called it a night after Dean found me a net and began teaching me how to fish by sending it sailing into the lake. I played with it until my shoulder was sore, and had caught a few small fish, then let Matt have a try at it, we eventually got lazy and just waited above the water and tried to drop it on the fish. Completely exhausted we all made our way to sleep some time after midnight.

Into The Sun

Day: 105

Driving my way into Day: 105 as the sun is cresting the eastern horizon and my three companions are passed out all over Skittles (the car). I’m somewhere around Oklahoma City, tweeked out on Red Bulls and (actual) Skittles with another hundred miles or so to Matt’s aunt and uncles house on Lake Eufaula. I drive on for sixty miles or so, wake everyone up and, pull into the Hungry Traveler for and Oklahoman breakfast covered in gravy.

We jump back in our ride and I power through the last half an hour of driving, we finish up on a dirt road that ended on a seven hole private golf course and a beautiful house situated on the country’s second largest man made lake. We meet Dean and Heather (Matt’s aunt and uncle), are shown our room where we cleaned up and all laid down for a morning nap, exhausted from the last 22 hours of driving.

Matt and I woke up first, around 12:30pm, and made our way out to Dean’s shop/office where he produces carbide tips for specialty cutting tools. We had the complete tour, then I sat down with an internet connection to get my blog updated while Matt got caught up with with his family. Eventually Aaron and Chad made their way out to the shop and the four us decided to shoot a round of golf (where I actually parred two holes).

After our golf, Heather called up a friend, Charlene, who sells fireworks, and even though yesterday was the last legal day to sell in Oklahoma, she said she’d open her stand specially for us and even give us a discount. We stocked up on a huge assortment of explosive devices; Mortars, Roman Candles, Black Cats, M-80s, Jumping Jacks, and even some things that looked like Saddam and Osama that supposedly shot gouts of flame in the air and eventually their heads blew up. We went crazy in this little shack of explosives and got completely stocked for the weekend.

Loaded down with a trunkful of things that could take off my fingers, went went back to the ranch and got ready to head out to dinner with Heather, Dean and another couple, Pam and George, who they had standing friday night plans with for Mexican food and ice cream. After dessert Dean and George headed home, while Pam and Heather took the four of us on a tour around the marina and the local summer hot spots. We could have stayed for a beer, but our hosts had plans for us to do, some night fishing and fireworks. Which were spectacular.

1100 Miles (1760k)

Day: 104

I woke up with the feel of cheap tan polyester on my face and an angry hungover dragon in my skull. It was only nine-thirty, but we had to get on the road, hoping to make it to Lake Eufalia to meet up with Matt’s aunt and uncle by tomorrow afternoon. The only pleasure of this entire morning was that I didn’t have to drive first.

We loaded up, hit the grocery store for lunch meat, ate Lunch, and set out for a day that we had figured would lack significant blogging stories. The car was devouring the asphalt and near sunset, somewhere in a desolate stretch of New Mexico (when I was finally behind the wheel), we saw lightning in the distance and some of the darkest clouds I have ever seen. Chad looks at me and says: “It’s looks like we’re driving into hell.”; and that is pretty much what it was. It started with just a heavy rain, then is seemed God was hitting us with buckets, and after a minute (when I was going about 25/mph) I felt as if I had just driven directly into the pacific and the waves were crashing on the windshield. I had to pull over with everyone else and wait out the downpour.

We found dinner at a roadside diner around 8pm, our faces gathering that sheen of long car travels, had some shitty food and decided to push through tonight, not stop in Texas, and just try to make it to Oklahoma by morning. I passed the driving off to Aaron and passed out in the back seat only to be awoken for our border pictures at Texas and Oklahoma.

“Casino”

Day: 103

“Casino.” That’s all I said over the screaming radio, 45 minutes into the first day driving Skittles across the country. Casino Morongo was coming up like a spire in the California desert. Matt, who was next to me asleep, opened his eyes trying to see if I was serious, Chad and Aaron glanced back thinking the same thing. I just grinned as we pulled in the right lane, set ourselves a twenty minute gambling limit (we still had to make it to Arizona to meet our friend Kris) and wandered into Bloody Mary’s and blackjack.

Twenty four minutes later when the dealer went to reshuffle, I was up $75 with half a cocktail in front of me (complete with an assortment of vegetables) and Aaron was reaching for his wallet to pull out another $40..

“We need to leave now…” I said it, but my heart wasn’t in it, I was hoping to be out voted by the team. I wasn’t. We cashed out and made for the highway heading east.

After a quick $4 (no student discount!) stop at the General Patton museum in the middle of the desert, where we learned about desert fighting and the advent of the tanks in battle, I passed out in the back seat for a few hours as we flew through the endless sand.

Arriving in Phoenix we found Kris’s place, started to mix ourselves a few celebratory drinks (hey, we made it through the first day without getting pulled over) and made plans for a scandalous evening. From here on out the night got rather blurry, but I powered through, hitting all the Arizonan girls (no offense, but most of the girls were rather rude to us), and documenting the whole thing with my camera. We hit three or four bars (all across the street from the apartment we where in) and ate some burgers for dinner at a standard American chain restaurant with endless fries.

During dinner, sitting on a bar stool, my camera in one hand and my chicken sandwich in the other I leaned back slightly and suddenly my precarious perch had gone beyond that precious balancing point and I was plummeting backwards towards the ground, camera hand shooting into the air and dropping my honey mustard covered dinner back in its basket. The camera was fine and my sandwich was still edible but my ass was going to be sore in the morning. Feeling thoroughly schooled in the physics of this particular chair, but still lacking my balance, I thought I was now in complete control on my dining experience; right… Within minutes, with everyone watching, I somehow managed to topple backwards for a second time, laughing my bruised ass off the whole was down. Ouch. Although the kicker came when the bartender (who had been standing there for this whole episode) poured me another cocktail.

The night was a wash with booze, mean women, and random Phoenix-ite company and I found my beautiful piece of floor just after three AM. Great start to this next leg.

Am I a Hoodlum?

Miranda Rights

Relax In Florida

Flat Tires and Morning Afters

The Big Easy

5 lbs of Shrimp

Busy Day in OK

Into The Sun

1100 Miles (1760k)

“Casino”

robertpaetz

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