Have you ever been to Hell on Earth? I have, and many know it better as Kansas. On August 12th, I packed up my little Jetta and embarked on a cross-country trip to California with my friend Jourdan. Thank god I had a co-pilot, because I may have easily left my sanity in the flat, never-ending, tortuous hell known as Kansas, had she not been there.
After stopping in Muncie, Indiana to visit my friend Alex and tour the campus of Ball State, where she studies graduate communications, Jourdan and I got back in my car and drove 16 straight hours from Indiana to Colorado Springs, CO. Ever wonder what is in those vast, open midwest states? Well, absolutely nothing. Nothing. At. All. Thankfully, the legalization of marijuana in Colorado, paired with the state's natural beauty made for a very eventful trip.
Upon getting off I-70 for the first time in fifteen hours, of which I drove the entire way, without stopping, I was blasted by a state trooper for traveling 78 in a 65 MPH zone. Jourdan and I still maintain there were no speed markers in that area. Blasphemy. We were staying with my cousin and his fiancé, but when we rolled up to an empty home, waiting on Zach to get there, we had convinced ourselves there was a home intruder, one that was even receiving text messages. We weren't keen on getting slaughtered in a suburban Colorado Springs home, moments after receiving a hefty speeding violation and quickly losing it to sleep deprivation, so we didn't make it further than the laundry room. When my cousin arrived, we realized it was his iPad making the text noises: joke was on us.
The next day, we explored Colorado Springs, Garden of the Gods, Red Rock Amphitheater, and downtown Denver. All beautiful places. After strolling around the mile-high city and having a few brewskis, Jourdan and I decided to purchase marijuana. I mean, it was legal, so what the fuck ever. After entering the establishment and getting cash out from a provided ATM machine, we loitered around the dispensary along with their noticeably high clientele. It was time to get on their level. We each purchased edibles and made our way out from the "happy zone".
Knowing that my cousin's fiancé was having a baby in the coming months, I thought of buying their daughter an outfit for letting us stay at their home. We pulled into a Denver shopping mall, where I convinced Jourdan to eat some edibles with me before going in. The woman at the dispensary recommended a certain amount, which I thought was small, so I suggested taking 50% more than the recommended amount, citing "they probably have a legal obligation to recommend the same amount to everyone". Bad call, Dylsny, for Jourdan and I rarely smoke. Within 30 minutes, inside Urban Outfitters, Jourdan was losing her shit and it was frying me out.
She got some water and calmed down for maybe... 5 minutes. We finally found the Baby Gap when it started hitting me. I have never shopped for baby clothes, ever. I have never shopped for normal size clothing high, ever. This was turning into a nightmare. After settling on what I thought was a cute, mis-matched pink outfit for their baby, we proceeded to check out. The gay cashier made a comment about Jourdan being the expecting mother. I don't think either of us opened our mouths to communicate. At that point, I don't know if I could muster coherent words. We booked it out of Baby Gap to find the car. After stopping at Starbucks for a coffee, and another water for Jourdan, who looked like she could yakk at any moment, we continued to what I thought was the correct parking garage entrance.
We walked up the stairs to the level I believed we were on, but to no avail, could not locate my car. We rode the elevator back down, contemplated walking to the next entrance, but rode the elevator back up to a new floor. We played this game of walking the stairs and riding the elevator for a mere 40 minutes before I started to lose my shit. Not once did it cross my mind to set off the panic alarm on my key ring. Finally, after riding the elevator back up to the top level, where we had found ourselves the FIRST time around, I found the damn car. I was high as fuck, but originally correct at the first attempt of locating our car... had we just walked one more aisle of cars left, we would've seen my gray Jetta in plain sight.
We got in, thanked baby Jesus we were safe and drove home in the rain. We grabbed a few pizzas for everyone back home for dinner and stayed put, leaving the next morning. I told Jourdan after finding the car in the damn parking garage after nearly an hour of looking that I'd never get high and drive again. Yeah fucking right. Part II to come soon!
-dylsny
No comments:
Post a Comment