Tuesday, March 20, 2007

The Road to South

Friday my sister is going to be induced. That means that she is pregnant and ready to have the baby, and that if she doesn't have it before Friday, the doctors are going to do something to her to make her have it. I don't know what in the world she is going to do, but I'm going to be there for a little bit. After that, I will be Uncle Eric. Sweet.

My Last blog I wrote about how I want to keep my readership interested. I've come up with an idea. I'm going to post sections of previously written short stories and essays on here that I deem my best. I think you guys will enjoy them. Don't worry, I won't forget to write about myself and daily life.

This first essay that I'm going to put on here is going to be Spring Break related. It's a story of what me and my friends did last Spring Break. It was a great time, and I think you'll enjoy reading it. It's pretty funny. Here you go:

Dave Andrews, a small blond haired pessimist sat with his knees pressed against his chest behind the passenger side seat that I sat in. The old ripped Carl’s Jr. bag lying on the floor held a 48 hour-old Subway sandwich that we had been saving in case someone got hungry enough. To my right, in the drivers seat was the slouching, dark haired road scholar named Justin Lehtonen. He had a goatee with peanut butter in it, one hand on the wheel while the other twirled his hair. His half shut eyes caused him to look uninterested in the scenery around us. His left foot hung out of the window while his right foot pressed on the gas. Behind him was his roommate from USC, Steven something. I never got his last name, but he was pretty funny. He had thin long blond hair that whipped around as the air from the open window rushed through our undersized car. He laughed a lot and cared a little. I don’t blame him—it was spring break: the time when college students force away their homework cares and commit to saturating every last second with as many memories as possible.
We didn’t have a particular destination. All we knew was that we wanted to go as far south as we possibly could in the next three days and go home on the fourth. Going north was physically painful for us. Whenever we heard the word “north” we all cringed because it epitomized the nemesis of our hero, our freedom, and our salvation: south. We started using the word “south” in ways that would startle an English major, saying things like “we need to go souther,” or “we need more south.” By the end of the trip, the word south had an entirely new meaning than when we began. Anyway, we jammed ourselves into the small car as awkwardly as possible and got on the 5 South.

Our first stop was in San Diego. But first, before I get into what we did in San Diego, let me tell you about our diet. Before we left, we all went to Ralph’s to buy some food for the road so we wouldn’t end up eating fast food for the whole trip. We each bought two loaves of bread, some turkey/ham, and some cheese. I don’t know why we thought that that would supply our dietary needs for an entire four days, but we did. And we didn’t think twice about it.
So anyway here we are on our first night. Our food supply is running low so we begin to come up with a plan to get a free meal. We called several friends who were familiar with the San Diego area to see if they knew of any high price formal restaurants. One friends suggested “Mister A’s” or “Mister Hays”. I couldn’t ever really figure out what they were saying. We planned on going in, getting some water and some dinner rolls, and then one of us would go to the bathroom and call us and we’d act like the call was so important that we had to leave immediately. Free rolls, free water, no harm done. So we looked all around for this place and never found it. So, instead of mooching off the restaurant, I got out one of my loaves, broke of a piece and made a turkey sandwich and ate it in the car.
The search for food was over. We had lost; our plan had failed simply because we couldn’t find a restaurant to give us free food. We retreated to our loaves and hoped that Jesus would multiply them and feed the four of us. Needless to say, he didn’t. Now it was time to enjoy the city. Justin told me to get my guitar from the car and bring it out so we would play it in the streets. Steven found an old computer monitor sitting on a mailbox and he used it for a drum while I played my guitar. There we had it: a full band. I opened my guitar case and let Justin feel the music. He sang as people walked by and gave us weird stares. I have to say, it was really awkward, but hey, we made some money. We made approximately 33 cents.

Then a bum came up and started dancing to our music. It was really weird.
When we stopped playing, another guy wearing long robes, dark sunglasses (although it was night) and a lot of “bling” came up to us and started talking to us. He carried some more clothes over his shoulder in a bag. He told us about an Irish Pub called “The Field” just one block down from where we were. As we continued to talk to him, he eventually told us he was a very spiritual man, and that he believed that Jesus Christ had changed his life. When we were thinking, “Hmm…cool,” and were about to leave he proceeded to tell us where to find the best strip clubs in San Diego. It seemed like every time we were about to leave he’d say something outrageous. Next, he told us about a screenplay he had written that would be coming out in the next couple years. He said it’s kind of like Shrek. It was called “Pretty Evil.”
Finally, he left, and we headed over to “The Field” where we played some music in front of a whole crowd. When we finished, people cheered. I guess it’s just common courtesy to cheer for people who perform on stage, because we didn’t deserve it.
After our few songs we got back on the road, looking for a place to stay for the night. We found UCSD and drove around until we found a secluded area surrounded by trees. We set up a tent there and went to sleep. It was a cheap and easy place to sleep.

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