Drive me crazy

Road trips have never really been my thing. I believe a major road block (pun intended) in my fear of road trips started during childhood.
Immediately as soon as anyone breathed the words road trip, my father turned into Jeff Gordon on a mission to deliver human kidneys to a children's hospital. The number one priority my dad had from then on out was to reach our destination in record time.
Unfortunately my dad's timeliness meant misery was in store for me. We stopped for NOTHING. Bigfoot could have wandered out of the woods wearing a bedazzled bikini and singing "Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus and it still would not merit as much as a slow down.

We would pass snake farms, the world's biggest ball of twine, historical markers and caves and caverns, each promising the thrill of a lifetime only to be told "we were making good time".

Even bodily functions took a backseat,literally, to our driving time. When my brother or I had to go to the bathroom we were simply given an empty Peter Pan peanut butter jar and expected to discreetly do our business behind the passenger seat as if it were some secluded woods in the middle of nowhere. More than once I contemplated taking a number two in that jar just to spite my father.

Seeing new signs and advertisements does interest me, but not to a point where I become mesmerized or confused over what I am witnessing.
While driving with a friends mother I was intrigued at how she had to read every single road sign or advertisement that came our way. It was her job to warn or inform me of any new sign I may have missed while keeping my eyes glued to the road. She would read aloud: "NEXT EXIT TWO MILES", "ROAD WORK AHEAD", "McDonald's EXIT 251B". Why do I need to be alerted to this I would think, as Linda recited the distance to the next 3 towns on a marker we had just passed.

While driving to a spring break destination with my ex roommate, Tom had been sleeping and awakened to a sight be began to concentrate on out of the windshield. Tom was transfixed on the view in front of him and I had not really been paying attention to what he was staring at. "Is that a cow"? he remarked "It looks like a cow but maybe it's not" he continued.
"I think it's a cow he decided" I looked over to the side of the road discover the object of Tom's attention. There stood a big white church building with Jesus painted in black paint on the side. There was even a cross and stained glass windows on the side of the building. Now I was confused and a little frightened. Did Tom really not know what a picture of Jesus was supposed to look like? What scared me even more is than he had mistaken the Lord and savior to over a billion people on this earth, as a DAIRY COW?
"I think that's Jesus Tom, waiting at any moment four the Subaru we were traveling in to be struck by lightening. "OH Is that who that is" exclaimed Tom. The mystery being solved he turned his head and went back to sleep.

I went on a birthday road trip to Dallas with my friend Jenifer, which reminded me that while half the fun is indeed getting there, it's the things you do when you get there that shape the memories you form about those destinations and your image of travelling as a whole.

Jenifer and I first arrived in Fort Worth to visit the infamous Fort Worth Stock Yards. Having heard that the tourist site was where they held a parade and cattle drive every afternoon, we were really excited about this new adventure. Fliers, Pamphlets and television commercials each portrayed the parade on a level that promised to rival even that of any Macy's Thanksgiving day event.
The parade was to start at noon and we arrived a bit early and selected a cool spot under the shade of a sprawling live oak in anticipation of the clowns, balloons and floats that would soon transform the path in front of us in a party zone.
At precisely 12 noon a cowboy on horseback slowly meandered out of a corral as six tired looking head of Texas Longhorns lazily sauntered in our direction. "GET COW" the cowboy yelled and fifty five seconds later it was over.
"How'd y'all like the parade"? store clerks and locals would ask us later. "If you are speaking of the half dozen cows that were paraded in front of us for less than a minute, we liked it just fine thank you!" we would respond.

During this same trip, Jenifer had made it her goal to visit the Hard Rock Cafe. It did not take us long to double fist a set of long island iced teas apiece and soon were were each pretty buzzed.
I persuaded Jenifer to venture to another bar just around the block in the cities famed West End area of bars and restaurants that sit under a jungle of overpasses high above the city. Little beknownst to me the West End area had become more of a hangout for the homeless than it was a tourist trap anymore.
Now Jenifer is the type of person that may need a little reassuring to even get in a taxi, let alone journey across a hobo camp to follow me on a bar crawl. Jenifer's buzz had now become sobering fear, whereas mine had slipped into brazen foolishness. We were soon stopped by a homeless man wearing a shirt advertising the early 80's movie "A Christmas Story" and asked for spare change. Jenifer's job had now become to NOT look the man in the eye and act as something far away was beckoning us immediately. My job had become to question the man about his fashion decisions. In my defense it was just hilarious to see this 6 ft five man wearing a shirt that detailed a little boy sticking his tongue to a frozen light pole that read "I double dog dare you". I took the words on the man's shirt just a little too seriously and asked the gentleman if it would not be too much trouble that if we did give him some money that we might be able to take a picture with him. The man obliged and I struck quick pose as Jenifer got out her camera.
Looking back it was probably a tad unsafe to be fraternizing with the locals the slept under a bridge with a knife in his pocket, I mean he was already pissed that he had to wear Christmas hand me downs from 1983 and now had drunk tourists taunting him. Jenifer snapped the picture and a glassy confused sheen quickly came over the homeless man. Jenifer whispered "I'm uncomfortable" and we ran for our lives back to the comfort of the Hard Rock for another round of Long Island iced teas.