Hubbie and I hit the road last weekend to attend an economic summit in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. (I know, you’re supremely jealous.) Having driven this stretch of road before, I knew I could expect miles and miles of boring scenery–cows, barbed wire, more cows, weathered barns, did I mention cows?
Packing for a road trip can’t be taken lightly. You’re basically stranded for 5 hours with nothing to do. Sure, I could talk to my husband–but I can do that at home. So I do things I don’t usually indulge in, like:
- Eating bags and bags of Twizzlers, Swedish Fish and trail mix. (Well, I also eat those at home, but because I’m traveling at 65 mph, the calories don’t stick.)
- Reading trashy magazines. I usually persuade my hubbie to take the latest Cosmo quiz: Test Your Sexual IQ, Is He Devoted To You?, Are You Way To Good For Him? This usually ends up in a fight before we get to the freeway, so I just answer the questions for him. It’s easier that way.
- Catching up on sleep. I forget that sleeping in a car is worse than dozing off on a plane. On a plane, you don’t have to keep braking for cows, slow RVs or pedestrians. (I stopped braking for pedestrians when it was my turn to drive.)
- Jammin’ to my tunes. Here’s where hubbie and I disagree. His choice for traveling music: Kenny Loggins (Who?) My choice: Macklemore & Ryan Lewis, Tiesto and anything with a beat. (We sat in fuming silence for several dozen miles.)
- Stopping at local diners for fresh fruit milkshakes, greasy onion rings, homemade burgers and Tums.
- Getting to know local law enforcement. Officer: “Can I see your registration?” Me: “Nope. It’s stolen.” Officer: “Whose car is this?” Me: “I don’t know. The guy’s in the trunk. Ask him.” (Highway patrol officers have no sense of humor. Just sayin’.)
- Using sagebrush as a toilet. (Self-explanatory. And gross.)
When someone says to you, “Getting there is half the fun!” Slap that person and book a flight for the return trip.