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Vacation: Part One

August 10, 2011

It was the Summer of 2007. (Can’t you just hear the ominous music in the background?!) I had just received my driver’s license, so for the first time, I’d be able to help my mom drive on our annual road trip out East. (I’m sure you can hear it now.) In honor of the occasion, we set off on a more elaborate trip than usual, stopping at colleges and detouring for large balls of yarn and billboards turned cow-gods.



After one such detour to the Ben & Jerry’s Factory, we called ahead to a hotel we found in the AAA book and made reservations for the evening. It was only a couple hours up the highway, so my mom graciously handed over the wheel and took a nap. (The ominous music is blaring now, just in case you were wondering.)


A few hours later, after expending every ounce of my energy trying to keep the car on the highway that just happened to lack reflective lane markers, my mother woke up and realized we’d waaay missed our exit. Not only that, but the two opposite lanes of traffic were separated by the dense Vermont forest, so we would have to go to the next exit to turn back around.


Of course, humans don’t exist in Vermont, so it was another hour before we came across the next exit. At which point I finally look down at the dash.



The empty light screamed at me like I was an idiot. “No big deal,” my mom says. Right.


We decide we might as well keep going and take the left fork jutting off from the exit. My mom pulls out the map to locate ourselves. Sure enough, neither our handy little exit nor our current road through the moonlit forest makes an appearance on the map.


Better yet, when my mom decides to call someone back home to look our location up online or call the hotel for directions or alert 911 that we’re dying or something, we discover that we’re out of cell range.


BEST yet?


The left fork dead ends.



In an abandoned factory complex.


Guillermo del Toro would have so much fun with this story.


We turn the car around, double checking that the doors are locked, and go back up the road to where it had forked.


This type of what-can-you-do scenario has odd effects on my mother and myself, so we found ourselves cycling through bouts of manic panic (this should SO be a phrase) and anxious hysterics. Unfortunately it was like listening to the radio with your windshield wipers on when the song’s tempo is slightly slower than the windshield wipers, so every couple measures they match up, but for the most part they are totally out of sync.


What my super-long analogy is trying to say is that more often than not, one of us would pee our pants from fright while the other peed their pants from laughter.


So we drive down the road cycling through emotional extremes and not encountering another living soul. The forest was exceedingly dark, blocking out even the moon and looking unbelievably terrifying.


Then, we saw this:



At which point my mother thinks it would be HILARIOUS to yell “Sasquatch.”


In my manic panic, I see this:



and scream bloody freaking murder.


Two minutes later my heart attempts to return to a normal speed and we continue down the road. You’ll be happy to know we sputtered right on into a small train junction town, complete with gas station, hotel and only a few scruffy creepers. So all in all, we survived the night without a physical scratch.


Mentally… that’s another story. I now have a ridiculous phobia of Sasquatch.  Thanks ever so much, Mom.


11 Comments leave one →
  1. lifewith4cats permalink
    August 10, 2011 10:19 pm

    You had me laughing the ENTIRE time.

    • August 10, 2011 10:33 pm

      Exactly what I like to hear! Thanks Sara 🙂

    • August 10, 2011 10:54 pm

      Hi Sara! Haven’t seen you in a while. Emily always keeps me laughing, too! 🙂

      • lifewith4cats permalink
        August 11, 2011 12:03 am

        Hi Erin, I went on vacay, now Im swamped in blog post emails. Ive missed U 2

  2. August 10, 2011 10:53 pm

    You should send this into the producers of Finding Bigfoot on Animal Planet. They may want to check it out.

    You make me smile.

    • August 10, 2011 10:56 pm

      EXCELLENT idea. I’ll get right on that. 🙂

  3. ℛaymond M. permalink
    August 12, 2011 3:32 pm

    THIS POST WAS RIDICOLOUSLY FUNNY AND WITTY. I love your humor and your writing style! I’ll follow your blog 😀

    I just started blogging yesterday and need feedback 😦 Would be great if you checked it out! :)) It’s not as great as yours, though! Be warned!

    • August 17, 2011 10:42 am

      Why, thank you Raymond! I do always love a new subscriber! 😉 I’ll be sure to pop on over to yours.

  4. August 13, 2011 5:42 pm

    Gyahaha…this is great. Funny and scary (I can imagine). If you wrote this more in the scary manner than funny…you can ask Mr. King to turn it into a novel or at least a shorts. Mom and daughter missing in the non-existance road

    • August 17, 2011 10:43 am

      Lol, thanks! But I think his rendition of my story might make me so frightened I wouldn’t be able to read it all 😉

  5. August 19, 2011 12:25 pm

    Ahahaha! So good to have you back and posting again!

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