Day 1

11:39am – We are in the car. Finally. It is a shit show. Stacey is slamming herself against her seat, complaining that I did not leave enough room for her to rest her seat back. I didn’t. Mom has already picked up her cell phone and is blabbing away about things we don’t care about, effectively rendering the rest of us silent and bored, since we can neither talk to each other or turn on the radio (she can’t hear if we do). Much to my dismay, in the midst of gloating about getting the good seat, I threw my head back, laughing, to find that my seat is missing a headrest.

Me: Dad! Where’s the headrest?
Dad: What headrest? What are you talking about?
Me: The headrest for this seat. Where is it?
Stacey: hahahahahahahaha
Dad: I don’t know, it’s probably in the garage somewhere.
Me: What?! If we get in a car wreck, I could break my neck. I could get whiplash.
Stacey: Just use this pillow.

While more comfortable, I am fairly positive that a pillow will not save my spine were we actually involved in a crash.

12:01pm – In 22 minutes, we have traveled approximately two miles. Made requisite Barnes & Noble and Panera stops. Stacey, in a fit of pure desperation, shifted the suitcases in the back and can now lean her chair back. I am annoyed.

3:57pm – Calamity has struck. We find ourselves in Bumblefuck, TN. Shell gas station parking lot. The food is gone. Mom is about to begin driving after recently engaging in a brief but loud altercation with Stacey. Tensions are high.
Mom: What is wrong with this seat? I can’t drive—this seat is broken.
Dad: What the hell are you talking about? Get—get out of that seat.
Mom: This is just ridiculous.
Dad: It’s not broken (hits the seat for good effect)
Mom: I can’t drive like this.
Dad: (gets in his seat) My seat won’t move. It’s broken.
Mom: How come you broke both of these seats?
Dad: Me? Who was just sitting here? You broke this. Do you hear this girls? She says she didn’t break it—she was the only one sitting in this seat.
Mom: Well, maybe you jammed this one and now you jammed that one.
Dad: I didn’t touch this one.
Mom: Maybe you’re the problem.
Dad: Well, maybe you’re the problem. Give me that damn pillow.

My naiveté abounds. Silly me, I expected to escape pre-adolescent arguments, but alas, I forgot that our family is dysfunctional on road trips.

I did not realize until this hour the degree to which a person needs a headrest. I feel nauseous, but is that really surprising? Stacey continues to gloat. Mom and Dad continue to discuss whose fault the quasi-malfunctioning seats are.

We are moving again. God help me. Is it too late to go to Jamaica?

The Gum Incident:
Apparently Mom has no qualm with distributing gum to the driver—her reluctance lies entirely in the unwrapping of the gum. Result: a five minute argument in which Dad, driving, is holding a piece of gum in his hand, and Mom, passenger, refuses to unwrap it. This one is simply over (or under) my head and begs the question, is this the beginning of senility?

Stacey Writes
Oh dear god. Stephanie is now driving and it is a COMPLETE SHITSHOW. Mom is in the backseat, can’t hear anything, and is just spouting madness. I think at this point she’s just talking because she likes the sound of her voice. Let me go back to the beginning of this takeover. After dinner, dad and I went out to the car to attempt to fix the fuse that mom blew when she broke both front seats. Dad began this procedure by looking under the driver’s seat for the fuse box and then when unable to find it, thought that under the hood was the next best place.

Stacey: Why are you looking under the hood?
Dad: I can’t find the damn thing.
Stacey: Where does it say it is?
Dad begins reading from the book “In the passenger seat footwell…
Stacey: Passenger seat, Dad.

Anyhow. Skipping to the situation at hand. Steph started driving after dinner and missed the fact that we were supposed to be getting onto 71. After driving for about ten minutes she asked whether or not we were supposed to be getting on 31. This of course raised much debate and when we realized that she had in fact missed 71, complete panic followed. Dad was the worst offender. He immediately gave the battle cry that everyone turn on their phones and start mapping! Mom started reading out directions and continued reading them even after we knew where to go. She has also become quite obsessed with words with friends. If you don’t play a word within five seconds she will repeatedly tell you that she went and it’s your turn. I blame Stephanie. She created a monster.