Day 14 of How to Survive a Family Road Trip: Vintage Hell, Gastric Irrigation & UC Davis

As I awoke to the retro 30s-50s explosion of furnishings all around me, one realization slowly materialized: I’m dead. Literally, I thought I died. Hell had saved a space for me in the worst level of its inferno, and it was vintage…

It was only after my parents entered and reminded me that this was simply the hotel we had chosen, that I was filled with relief, finding out that I hadn’t actually died because of some homicidal psycho the previous night. Oh, silly me.

What better way to start the day, than with a big heaping pile of fried lard? Because, I love the smell of heart attack in the morning. Don’t you? These were obviously the reasons governing my parents’ breakfast choices this morning. I must say it constantly surprises me just how often the frequency of their whining about their various diets matches the frequency of their little calorie bonanzas like this one…and, not surprisingly, our following bonanza at lunch.

Since lunch ended up being just as healthy and nutritious, I began seriously considering gastric irrigation. I even threatened to do it myself? I mean, how hard can a little stomach-pumping be? Sadly, I was unable to convince my parents to make a stop at the nearby emergency room and was forced to endure the calories.

Why did I eat this food, twice in the same day, you ask? As a brilliant and compassionate writer, it is my duty to force myself to experience things I might otherwise avoid, things that may hurt me, things that I would normally so heartily despise, but that will hopefully eventually make me a better person.

But Chris1, you ask, aren’t you already so unimaginably perfect in every way?

Oh, that’s so kind and naive of you. Looks aren’t the same as character, my dears. So no one’s completely perfect. Just look at the Greek gods or Mary Poppins. So anyway, by partaking in this fat-fest, I was learning what the majority of our population feels like every day.

Apparently they enjoy a feeling that resembles what I imagine it would feel like to have a rabid mole lodged in their stomach.

Finally—my kin! My brethren! My homies—people my age!! I was beginning to doubt their very existence. After having spent so much time in places across the country an up north that contain no, and I repeat NO one older than 13 and younger than 30, I thought maybe they were becoming something of myth, like the unicorn, or Halle Berry’s acting ability. Anyway, thank God, all was better now that I had finally found them again. The UC Davis campus was filled with these people.

After dinner with my family and my best friend, my parents and sister went back to the hotel, and my best friend showed me around the frat she frequents. I thought I had entered a refugee camp. Never before had I entered a kitchen that looked so unfit for the preparation of, or God forbid, the consumption of food. That is, unless you don’t mind a little dash of rat feces in your salad and a dollop of e-coli in your soup.

Despite the mess, we managed to dig a tunnel through all the left over beer cans and bad decisions that littered the hallway, and make our way into one of my best friend’s friend’s rooms that was actually endurable. It was a fun night. Granted, I was so ecstatic so see my best friend that we could have been eating live bees while watching reruns of “Everybody Loves Raymond” and I still would have had a good time (sorry to the few of you who may actually like this miserable show).

 Only one more day until I am home free!! Yeah, bitches!!

I have found that I appreciate the hotel room much more after a cup of coffee in the morning. I appreciate the hotel even more so if the coffee they provide is of good quality. The Motel Del Rogue happened to have free, organic, fair trade coffee that raised my spirits and set the tone for another long, but sure to be great day of traveling.

My parents, being the generous people they are, decided to continue our route south via Davis, California. They weren’t originally going to go that way, but after considering that my best friend, Sarah, their honorary daughter, happened to be there, they figured it would be a good experience. My constant wheedling didn’t hurt much either.

I have never seen a campus with so many wild animals before! I mean, these “wild animals” were mainly bunnies and squirrels, but still, their numbers were startling. In addition, there were quite a few not so wild animals kept on campus. For instance, there were many horses, which are used by the students who compete and show in the equestrian competitions, and there are tons of cows which are used for dairy products made on campus. There was even a slaughter house, which luckily, the inside of which Sarah spared showing us.

When we reached the stables, one of her friends was practicing in the ring. Happy to entertain us out-of-towners (one of whom—my sister—is a obsessed with horses), her friend showed us some beautiful dressage. She was even able to make the horse bow! It was beautiful. After, I was surprised to learn that the horse was very young and still learning the basics of dressage. I can only imagine how magical it must be to watch when performed by a seasoned dressage horse. After a bit more riding, Sarah’s friend told us a story. The first time she ever fell off a horse, some odd years ago or so, she ruptured her spine and spent nine months recovering in a hospital. Instead of avoiding ever going near another horse again, as I’m sure many victims of serious horse injuries do, she simply made sure to choose a horse that was going to be, what she calls, “spook proof.”

It is so inspiring to see someone who is so gifted not allow a traumatic event to deter their passion. From what I have seen and heard, falling off a horse, even when uninjured, can be very unsettling. My sister first started learning to ride, she fell off hard as she was trying to reach a canter. After that, she was so shaken up that she avoided attempting that speed for quite some time. There is a good reason why the phrase goes, “get back on that horse, and ride.” If you don’t, no matter what your “horse” may be, you will never know what it feels like to really succeed. As my best friend’s friend showed us, greatness and beauty don’t have to die with a single instance of bad luck. In fact, the awesomeness of returning to that “horse” is made that much more awesome because of, not in spite of, the previous bad experience.

Later that evening, we ate sandwiches in town, and my parents and sister returned to the hotel, leaving me to the whiles of my best friend. We met up with a bunch of her friends and ended up playing Super Smash Bros. Brawl into the wee hours of the morning. Now, if that isn’t just the perfect way to end the night, I don’t know what is!

Stay tuned for the very last day of the road trip! Day 15, the FINAL DAY is just a day away.