Before I continue with this story, let me preface it with this. When I look back at this stuff, it's through the eyes of a mother, and some of the things we did scare the crap out of me. It never occured to me that my mother and sisters and friends were all back in Cincinnati worrying about me for an entire week. The thought of what that must of been like for them makes me sick.
Having said that, I will be telling this stories through the eyes of a fifteen year old. Please keep that in mind as the idiocy of this story ensues.
Last we spoke, Tami and I needed to somehow get our mothers to actually agree to our roadtrip. We took the tag team approach. First we visited my mother and told her that Tami's mother, Marilyn, said she could go. Then we visited Marilyn, and told her that my mother said I could go. I remember us sitting on the staircase with her mom, just wearing her down for like an hour until she finally said yes. I think we nagged so long and so hard that our mother's just finally gave in. We told them we would only be gone three days.
Next thing we know, we were headed to Chicago, with twenty dollars between us. We had to sit to sit in the back seat, along with the two stinky babies. The babies were the epitome of UNICEF poster children, snotty noses, dirty diapers, crying....the only thing missing were the big flies hovering around their faces.
As I mentioned in part one of this tale, the car was a big fat pimp daddy red Buick looking motherfucker. The ride was a nightmare and our first introduction to babies, which is probably why I didn't have kids of my own until my thirties.
So, in the middle of all this chaos, Barry decides he needs to pull over and take a nap. What the fuck? Who needs to stop halfway to sleep on a five hour drive. He pulls into this truck stop, and parks between all the huge semis and acts like he's going to sleep. Me and Tam Tam, we were ready to GO, so we proceeded to try and talk Barry into letting Tami drive the rest of the way. The tag team approach was far less effective on him than on our mothers. In hindsight, it was probably a good thing.
As Barry napped we chatted with Barb. Turns out Barry is from Chicago, and his mother lives there where she owns a beauty shop. We were going to stay at an 'old' friend of Barry's place, named Tom. Tom later told us he had only met Barry once or twice playing Foosball at a bar. Scary, huh?
Now that we had been briefed on the plan, we just had to wait for Barry's worthless piece of shit self to wake the fuck up. I think we may have pinched a baby since we didn't have an alarm clock. TO BE CONTINUED
