The Redneck River Ride - Pt. 1

It all started early Saturday morning. Real early, because everyone wanted to leave promptly at 7:00 AM, except that Alabama is an hour behind Georgia, so it was really 8:00 AM by the time I had finished eatin' my bre'fus. I stepped outside to ask who me and my son were ridin' to the the river with, when I was informed there were no vacancies; that I would need to wait on Josh, who would be arriving soon from his "crib". I stepped back in to grab my son and my shoes, and stepped back outside just in time to see... a caravan of cars pulling out of the driveway! They honked and yelled something like, "take exit thirsy whine!" as they snaked down the road.

What?? No they didn't just leave me! I raised a shaky hand and softly whispered, "Can you repeat those directions?"

I was all alone, with no one to carry me to da rivah. I stared at the clock waiting for Josh to drive up, hoping he would know how to get to wherever we were going. Finally Josh arrived, and I stared at the clock some more while he found some food and declared his vexation that everyone had left without him. At last he ate his fill and stuffed his gizzard and we were ready to go. I buckled my seat belt and said...

"You have a cell phone, right?"
"What? No man, I thought you did."
"No, the batteries are dead. Sooo, you know how to get there, right?"
"Uh no, lemme call Sam."

Thankfully I had a clock in the car to stare at while I waited. When Josh returned, I was informed that the caravan of cars was at that very moment streaming over Mobile Bay towards the Florida Panhandle, and that we were expected to catch up. And that Bob should have no problem doing that. Shoo dog! I put that little red puppy in Drive and squealed away, not so anxious to arrive at our destination as to avoid wandering aimlessly over hill and dale hunting for it.

After a while I had to stop and get gas (for the car), and we took the opportunity to try to "call Sam" again. Remember the good old days when gas was under $1, and pay phones were .25 cents? Well, we paid .75 cents for 3 minutes. And guess what everybody? Sam didn't answer his phone. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, the very phone he had answered 45 minutes ago! We were stuck in Ye Old Portal o' Despair!

And so we drove and drove. And drove. And drove and drove and drove and drove. On and on we went, mile after mile, until finally Josh snapped me out of my reverie as he said...

"I think that was the exit we were supposed to take."
"Huh? Whut? Are you sure?"
"Umm... no, but it looked familiar. I remember there was a gas station."

Silence for another mile.

"Maybe you should turn around."
"Maybe there'll be an exit up ahead."
"Maybe you can turn around in the median."
"I saw some cops."
"Try before the next hill."

And so, taking Josh's advice, which you could argue was neither wholely good nor wholely bad, I negotiated the median and roared onto the other side of the freeway, frantically searching for coppers. Back at The Exit we found a pay phone, which was priced at the low low price of... A DOLLAR! We grinned wild-eyed at each other as Sam's phone rang busy. Who could he be talking to? His fiance was with him for crying out loud!

It occurred to us that there might possibly (although quite inconceivably) be something wrong with the phone booth. It also occurred to me that maybe cell phones were useful after all, but I quickly pushed the thought out of my head as I waited, hopefully, while Josh tried again at another pay phone across the way (he had become frightened by the store clerk and wanted to "adieu" as quickly as possible, but that's another story entirely). This time Josh gave me the thumbs-up signal (after approximately $3 thrown into BellSouth's greedy maw), and proceeded to give us what I shall henceforth and forevermore refer to as, The Directions We Should Have Gotten Before We Left.

And that, dear reader, is how it started. To find out how it finished, I invite you to return tomorrow, or whensoever I feel like finishing this story, for oh-so-many-more Musings By Bob.