I was bitching a while back about not having anything to write about and someone suggested that I write about the holidays and I couldn’t for the life of me think of a solid holiday story.  Then I remembered the trip.  Oh, what a trip it was!  I tripped through the whole thing.  In every way possible.

It goes back to when I was roughly seventeen.  My then boyfriend (turned ex-husband) was in PA visiting his father and I was super duper sad and lonely so I asked a relative of mine to go on a road trip with me.  I ended up getting my mother’s permission to make the five hour drive to Connecticut to visit my grandparents and off we went.

I don’t remember the drive there.

I do, however, remember the car we drove – mine.  It was a white four-door 1986 Honda Accord and it had to have oil added to it every so many miles or it stalled out.  I had dozens of empty cans in my trunk.  I can’t count how many times we stopped during the trip up, mainly because I don’t remember it.

What I do remember was getting to Grandma’s.  I MISS THAT WOMAN.  Grandpa too.  Those are some funny people.  I’ve been meaning to tell Grandma stories.  Have I yet?  I might tell more.

So we get to Grandma’s and we settle in and then my relative hands me a handful of mushrooms.  Yep.  I had never had them ever before.  I’d drank and I’d smoked pot but I never tripped before.  I did for my first time. AT MY GRANDMA’S HOUSE.

She had a blue carpet and a couch with a red cover on it.  I remember sitting there thinking I was on a boat.  I know I was swaying because I had to stop myself from making swooshing noises.  Then I decided I had to talk to Casey so I went in the den to use the phone and I freaked out because I didn’t realize they had one of those giant button phones.  I thought my hands shrank.  I pretty much used my fist to pound out each number and tried but failed to get a hold of him.  If I did I don’t remember.

My next memory is of me walking out of the den to find Grandma at the organ with my relative and he said “Hey Julie!  I taught Grandma how to play ‘Iron Man’!”

I shit you not that had to be one of the most traumatizing moments of my entire life.  Grandma rocked out some Ozzy on her organ tongue out and all.  You see, Grandma was batshit crazy.  One of the funniest women I’ve ever met.  I lost her a few years later and of all the trips (heh) I ever took, that one probably holds the most value.  It seemed like so much shit happened those two nights (?) we were there.  I remember Grandma making Grandpa take out his teeth, that freaked me out.  I also remember going to so see “Junior” which REALLY freaked me out, especially since I was tripping face.

Then comes the ride home.  I was young and dumb and therefore still tripping and smoking pot.  I was also young and dumb enough to not stock up on oil when I was getting all the snacks I would need at the gas station.  I have no idea where we were but I know it was the middle of nowhere, cell phones didn’t exist and it was in a blizzard.  My car was dead.  We were literally rocking back and forth hoping we could propel the car until it got to a gas station.  We wanted help but not really because our pupils were the size of golf balls but it was so fucking cold out we had no idea what to do.

Then my relative came up with a plan.  It was a plan that actually worked.  We gathered every empty oil can I had in my car (sometimes not cleaning your car can be a benefit) and we sat there and poured out the last drops of oil from each bottle into one bottle to get enough to make it to the next rest area.  Since we were tripping it both took forever but also went really fast.  I know it had to be a while because we could see our breath in the car.  Then came for the putting the oil in the car.  Fuck no, I wasn’t going out in that blizzard.  If I did I don’t remember it which is fine by me.

We got just enough in there to make it to the next exit and we literally stalled out just as we were pulling in.  I freaked out for a second because I didn’t have any money (stoner) but then remembered my ma gave me her credit card so to our great pleasure we picked up like twenty gallons of oil, some Munchos and Nestea and were back on our way home to Syracuse.

That was one of my fondest Christmas memories.  I have another one I’ll tell tomorrow that just came to me.  I wasn’t tripping this time.  Someone else was though!

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