HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR ME, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME.
It’s my 22nd birthday today. Or 19th. Depends on who you are. As Kristian so nearly gave away at Hooters. More of that later.
I woke up to an empty room with all my stuff in a suitcase by the door. Steve the Goalie came round to steal more of my iTunes whilst I went for a shower.
Evan and Kathleen came in to say bye, I knew Kristian would have rang/text me loads because he has a pool party to go to which I was going to go with him to. We’re both going to the same place before we go off to Alabama so he had to wait for me. I felt powerful knowing that he had to wait for me.
We left like this:
Steve the Goalie took me to Kristian’s and we both said bye to him, we’ll probably have a summer camp together anyway.
We got an email saying that Lindsay requested us all back in Chicago for the fall (autumn) so hopefully I’ll be back with Brathleen.
Kris and I went to this pool party down her road that he was promised had “good-looking college girls”. They were two thirds correct. They went to college and they were girls. I think. We tried to make conversation that went beyond the normal “have you ever been to England?” bullshit we say to everyone. They hadn’t in case you were wondering. You have to really analyse the situation you’re in when the girl you’re talking to is more ripped than you are.
We left with a bagel in hand for the drive to meet all the summer staff at Trinity University. We met Mr Fussell and we put everything in the boot. I was annoying Kristian by singing the Tetris theme tune as we tried to fit everything in.
After some lunch we headed off on the long trip to Louisville, Kentucky. I opened my birthday cards as we entered Indiana. I bet y’all forgot it was my birthday already didn’t you?
We went into a service station and I swear to you all I have never ever been so scared in my life. We were the only white people for miles (not that that scared me, I’m just saying), a prison bus drove past us, the window in the gas station that separates you and the cashier is double glazed and bulletproof and everyone seemed to walk really slowly. The place itself it called Gary. I don’t recommend you go.
We saw this sign which is always promising:
We stopped off down the road to go to McDonalds, there was a university debating team. Picture in your head the geekiest looking guys you can. Spotty, glasses, huge noses, buck teeth, braces, jeans bought by their mum’s and Sketchers.
Fussell decided he didn’t want any at that McDonalds so we had to stop off again, what a selfish wanker, driving us for 6 hours and wanting to stop off at a McDonalds for a burger! The cheek! Kris and I tried to clean the writing off of the car that the Enterprise people had written on, that worked up a sweat and a half.
Finally we got to the Motel6 in Louisville. I’ve changed my mind; I’ve never ever been as scared as I was when we entered the motel. There was hookers, pimps, druggies (these are very much generalisations but I assume I’m right). The toilet seat still has piss stains on it, there were signs everywhere saying lock your doors, my bed sheet has cigarette burns in, Kristian’s duvet may or may not have had blood on and the shower curtain looked like it had gone for a mud bath. If your motel is as active as ours was at 11pm then you know something’s up.
We left there to go to Hooters for a few beers and to watch the Heat Celtics game. Martin, Mark and Ramesh joined us; they’re going to Tennessee but stopped off in the same motel as us. Our waitress refused to sing me happy birthday but she did have a wonderful rear end so I forgive her.
We went to sleep praying we would wake up the next day.