Look! I know I said this last blog installment of my trip to Huntsville would happen sooner but I guess I lied. Give me a break. My husband flew in to see us at the last minute. We’ve been busy and by busy I mean, if I need to explain to you what I mean in any other word other than “busy” you should probably go back to some blog that involves more pictures. I’m just saying, yo!
Anyway to pick up where I left off…we arrived in Birmingham, Alabama and we were lucky enough to jump in a cab that was parked in front of the bus station. In my frugalness, I requested the cheap, little compact car. They gave me a Kia Rio. It’s about an inch larger than a freaking Smart Car. My daughter took one look at it and was like “That car sucks, mom.” Why yes, little one, it sure as shit does!!
The exchange of a credit card number for keys and we are off!! About a mile away from Enterprise I notice the car is fine as long as I don’t go over 30 mph. The steering wheel shook with vigor like a Great Dane humping your leg. Holding on tight made your whole body tremble. If my children were not on board, it probably could have been much more fun.
I entered the freeway, pushing about 60 mph, closing in on the interstate. I passed a speed limit sign encouraging me to go 70 mph. In my head I thought how glorious it would be to do the speed limit with out feeling like I was sitting on a washing machine. This was going to be a long ride. I still had 90 miles to go. The “jack hammer in the trunk” feeling just put the kids to sleep. Kids are lucky like that. They can sleep anywhere.
FINALLY, I get to Huntsville. The veins in my hands are popping out from squeezing the snot out of the steering wheel. We check in and my husband is already out of class for the day so he’s waiting for us. YAY!
We end up going to eat at Olive Garden for dinner. Large chain restaurants do not impress me but I was very hungry as were the kids. On the trip, we were not able to eat any real, substantial food because nothing was available, open, or working at the bus terminals where we stopped. Most of our food came out of vending machines. My children probably ate a basket of bread each before the food came out and they still ate nearly all of their food. CRAZY!
Afterwards, we went back to the hotel for some rest. The bus trip kicked my ass! The front desk called us because my super intelligent hellions decided it would be a good idea to jump on the bed so their neighbor called to complain. I really did not like them very much after that (or for most of the trip, for that matter). After the bus trip and hopping on the Red River Rapids (nudge, nudge) during the drive to Huntsville, I wasn’t feeling very nice or forgiving. So, my eyes glowed red, my head spun a 360 on my shoulders, and I may or may not have vomited green substance all over the walls. Who can say really? “Children!” I bellowed in some otherworldly voice, “Get in your beds and do not remove yourself until I return for you in the morning. No more talking! Sleeping only!” Those last words echoed as if I were screaming them from inside of a deep, dark cave.
The next morning after some very relaxing sleep in a Holiday Inn king size bed. We decided to take the kids to the children’s museum. It was closed. So instead, we went to the NASA Space & Rocket Museum (which FYI is where some of the old 80s movie Space Camp was filmed..."I'm going up!").
After spending a ridiculous amount of money just to open the doors, we began our tour of the grounds. We took many pictures except in the Narnia exhibit where “photography of any kind is prohibited” and punishable by death. Disney is hardcore like that! It’s a shame too. You actually entered through the wardrobe, through the fur coats just like the movie and the first thing you saw was snow falling down from the ceiling twinkling through the illumination streaming down from the spotlight. It would have been a very memorable picture.
We stopped at a “designated smoking section” outside and my daughter ran around collecting acorns off of the ground. My son kept throwing them into the grass. This drove my daughter nuts!! No pun intended. She marched up to my husband and said, “Daddy! He won’t stop touching my nuts!” My husband nearly choked on his cigarette as he turned to my son and said, “Boy! Leave your sister’s nuts alone. Play with your own nuts!”
To which the Slap Chop commercial came to mind and the running joke for that part of the afternoon was “You’re gonna love my nuts!”
At seven, my daughter is not quite tall enough for most grown-up rides. It is a shame considering she has nerves of steel usually and she will try anything as long as someone goes with her the first time. She was geared up to go up the rock wall...it was going down she wasn't too keen on especially after seeing my son do it the WRONG way. The guy running the show and my husband had to coax her down. I was sure my husband would be suiting up and climbing up after her but in the end she came down on her own. While waiting on her to come back to the ground my son decided to give it another go. Good for him!
Later she had her little heart set on riding the Space Shot. She marched up to the height chart and looked up at it. Diagonally from her forehead, she shot her hand up and out to the piece of tape that marked whether you met the height requirements or not. Very matter of factly she declared, “I’m tall enough.” We could not make her understand that she was really about 3 inches shorter than necessary. We tried to show her by holding our hands straight over her head and not going diagonally up from her forehead as she had done.
My husband and I took turns riding the Space Shot with our son while the other waiting on the sidelines with our daughter. For a good thirty minutes, she cried and cried louder about how life was unfair. It sounded very familiar and I remember Aunt Lizabird reciting the same pathetic speech but hers usually ended with hating her life and wishing she would drop dead. My family is very dramatic.
We left when out tummies grumbled. The husband and I wanted Thai food. The only Thai cuisine in town was closed on Sundays. Seems like everything in these here parts are closed on Sunday. It sucks. We ended up eating at a little hole in the wall Mexican joint called Casa Mexican. I know you are thinking how in the hell did you go from Asian to Mexican. Well, that is how the cookie crumbles when damn near everything is closed. Only the big chain, generic robot restaurants are open on Sunday. The devil himself must be the CEO. (Don’t get me started on how I believe Wal-Mart is the anti-Christ…lol).
On the way back to the hotel, my husband and I basked in the silence. My daughter stared out the window. My son kicked back Pawpaw-style and slept. It was glorious!
Later back at the hotel, the kids begged and begged to go swimming. The temperature was in the upper 60s. So we ended up telling them they could go hang out in the hot tub. Parenting is all about picking your battles sometimes. After about 10 minutes of the hot tub not getting any warmer, my husband went to the front desk to see what the issue was. He found out it was broken and was waiting on being repaired. The kids although disappointed were chilly so it didn’t take much convincing to get them out of the hot tub and back into the hotel rooms so they could get in a warm bath. Since we had two rooms, we had two bathrooms so we didn’t have to listen to any bickering over who was going to bathe first. Thank goodness for small favors.
The next morning we passed around our goodbyes to husband/daddy and headed back to Birmingham to catch a miserable bus trip back to Oklahoma. The trip back was full of snoring people and crying babies. Some people snored while holding a screaming baby. Those people must be deaf. Oh and there was also a large group of people that seemed to be from Africa complete with babies. This is going to be fun!
I suppose my son was delirious from all the travelling. He wanted to play the game 20 Questions. Problem is the answer was always “beef jerky”. “Is it a thing?” “Is it food?” Is it brown?” (etc. etc. etc.) After about three turns of discovering his love of beef jerky, I would simply make my first question, “Is it beef jerky?”
At some point, someone spilled a drink and the guy next to me got my attention. Good thing he did since I had set my laptop bag on the floor a few miles back. That could have sucked.
There was a lady that almost missed the bus in Monroe, LA. Had she have been an ugly fat woman, I’m sure none of the guys in the back would have hollered for the bus driver to STOP! This is why even bus lines tell you to be there an hour before you are scheduled to leave. Why? So you don’t get left, FOOL!
This particular bus driver must have thought he was driving around the short bus! We stopped somewhere in Ruston, LA at a stop on the side of gas station. As we pulled off down the street and made our way back to the highway, a guy from the back of the bus casually walked up to the front towards the bus driver (even though there are signs posted that specifically say not too and most drivers recite that rule during that “my foot is about to leave the brake” speech). I was sitting fairly close to the front so I heard the guy say, very non-chalant, “I think someone got off back there that wasn’t suppose to.” The driver looked up in his rear view in disbelief and shook his head slowly from side to side and said, “You’ve GOT to be kidding me, man!”
The driver whipped that bus around Dukes of Hazard-style and as we pulled back into the gas stations parking lot out stumbles the goober that almost got left in some little hick town. He looked like a deer in headlights with eyes the size of saucers and a look of terror across his face yet he still clutched a Big Gulp in one hand and a fistful of snacks in the other.
When the driver opened the doors, he says, “Hey, man! I didn’t tell anyone to get off the bus!” The snack genius says, “Dude! I woke up and we were stopped and I was hungry!” As he walked past me to get back to his seat, I swear I could hear his heart beating in his chest. Dumbass!
One thing I noticed at nearly every stop was the “No Loitering” signs. The funny thing was the fact that there were many stops the driver made everyone onboard exit the bus and wait. I chuckled inside thinking that a good way to stop the loitering was to cease making the passengers get off and, well...loiter. Problem solved! Me for President!!
Another thing I noticed was that anytime the bus entered or exited Dallas, Texas the bus was ALWAYS packed. It was usually around this time that the bus smelled ripe!! If you read the
first blog installment of this trip, the guy with the serious case of B.O. rode with us into Dallas making our eyes water the whole way.
The last stop before making it back to Oklahoma was supposed to be Wichita Falls, Texas. Later, I found out that there was no stop in Wichita Falls so we would be let off in Jolly, Texas. Jolly, Texas…hmmph! There was nothing “jolly” about any of the people that worked at the gas station there. The broad behind the register looked like she was beat with an ugly stick and her co-worker spoke in grunts and reminded me of Sloth from the Goonies.
Finally we made it back to Oklahoma. Buddy was our ride home and he was stuck in a meeting and would be for the next couple of hours. So the kids and I walked about eight blocks trying to find an ATM so we could call a cab. Once we made it back to our house, sleep came easily and the next day I was able to unwind by sending the children off to school. For the love of all that is good in this world, do not let me EVER drag my ass on a bus again.
