The Stages Of The Road Trip: Stage Three


Stage one. Before the trip.
Stage two. Getting started.


It’s still a lot of fun reading the names of the streets off the overpasses. “Fangboner Road” alone threatens to keep the gang giggling for hours. “Preventorium Road” inspires everyone to toss out out their ideas of what this could even mean. This goes on for so long and for such a merry time that by the time anyone can think to look it up they can’t remember what exactly the road name was. They know it wasn’t Vomitorium Road, but that’s as far as the consensus will reach. Amanda’s claim of knowing a “Squankum” are shaken off. It feels like a bad laugh although they’re not sure exactly why.

The fourth great field of sheep is not so much fun as the first. Dan insists the problem is the sheep aren’t trying to be interesting. Sophia asserts that few things would be worse than sheep that compel your interest. The menace of the hypnosheep masters keeps the group’s spirits up for the next two fields of sheep before they sink beneath all possible commentary.

Is that a strip mall with two yoga centers? Josh says it’s three, but he’s definitely mis-reading tea room as a yoga center. Right? We mean it’s one of those tea rooms too fancy to be comfortable. Well, there’s definitely at least two. Maybe this is just the yoga center district of town?

Well, this is a restaurant. All right, it’s not a vegetarian-friendly restaurant. It seems determined to put meat into things that don’t even need it. There’s a high-pressure gun in the kitchen. It injects chicken and processed lobster food product into everything. “We just want some garlic toast,” beg Josh and Amanda. “We don’t need animals to have died for the cause!” The restaurant tries to cope with the concept of someone who wants the tomato soup that hasn’t had a fist-sized chunk of pig flesh ripped off and unked into it. But the effort fails. There’s a mishap in the kitchen, and it sprays chicken cutlets, which are dug out even of the glove box up to three months later. At least that’s how the story goes. Really it’s more that the waitstaff has to come back to apologize that they don’t have a second black-bean burger patty, would a portobello mushroom be all right? And it really wouldn’t, but Josh would take it to not cause trouble for people who have to deal with much worse customers. It’s all right, since it turns out they don’t have portobello either. He gets a plate of melted butter with a scoop of mashed potatoes. Later he tries to insist that mashed potatoes would be a good substitute for the burger patty, earning him so much grief.

That’s a weird bunch of sheep but nobody wants to reopen the subject.

All right but serious talk. Or anyway, comparing the bathroom stuff that different hotels give you. Everyone takes turns asserting they’ve seen the most preposterous blend of things. Sophia claims to have been at a long-term hotel once that had a single tube which claimed to be soap, skin lotion, shampoo, hair conditioner, toothpaste, mouthwash, energy drink, makeup remover, transparent nail polish, shoe polish, stain remover, windshield fluid, transmission fluid, and fish ick treatment. Two miles later she says she thinks she went on too long for the laugh she could possibly get. Dan says that a combination mouthwash and energy drink is a great idea and she should patent that. Amanda questions whether you could patent … what, coffee with way too much mint? This allows everyone to learn a little bit more about each other, as they say what kinds of things they can or can’t eat right after brushing their teeth. This causes everyone to realize their friends are daft. This is worse than when they learned what podcasts everyone else listened to.

All right but is that a two-story strip mall? Is it possible to be a strip mall if it has got a second story? Yeah, we know about that strip mall with the two-story Borders that used to be there, but that was just the one place. If the mall has a second floor with different shops upstairs isn’t that … well, we clearly don’t have the words for this concept. What is it and how many yoga centers can it have?

Statistics Saturday: Things That Non-Vegetarians Think The Rest Of Us Need To Hear


  • Salad isn’t food! Salad is what food eats!
  • You know, chickens are really mean to other chickens.
  • I’d love to be vegetarian but then I couldn’t put bacon on everything.
  • You know, the Indian word for ‘vegetarian’ is ‘bad hunter’.
  • Yeah, that’s cool but some of us have to be the carnivores.
  • You know, the Humane Society of the United States is a lobbying group, not an animal shelter.
  • Oh, yeah, this is a vegetarian-friendly restaurant. They make a great tuna steak.
  • So when you go for fast food are you, like, just there to be all smug about everyone getting their chicken nuggets or stuff?
  • I couldn’t possibly keep up with all the measurements and supplements and stuff you have to do to be a vegetarian. I’m impressed.
  • You know, you get E coli from lettuce.
  • You know, almost nobody actually has a problem digesting gluten, you can just eat whatever you want if you haven’t actually been to an allergy specialist.
  • That’s all right, I’ll eat enough sausage for both of us!
  • Wait, that’s got cheese on it, you can’t eat cheese, right?
  • It’s so weird you want, like, burgers that taste like meat but that nobody has to kill a cow for, instead of something really vegetarian.
  • You know, hamsters will eat their own babies if you let them.
  • So when you go for fast food do they, like, just throw a handful of yard clippings in your face?

Reference: The New York Public Library Desk Reference, Paul Fargis, Sheree Bykofsky.

A Vignette That Is Made Up Yet Also Entirely True


“And you know what the annoying thing is about vegetarians? They always tell you they’re vegetarians! You can’t sit down next to one and suggest that you ever ingest any form of nutrition without them pointing out how they’re vegetarians. And how everyone else would be too, if they were even slightly decent people. They just won’t let you be in peace, they’ll shove their vegetarianism down your throat,” declares, to no one in particular, the guy three unoccupied seats down at the bar who’s wearing a Woot-class T-shirt that reads “Bacon-wrapped bacon is my spirit animal”. I grin as noncommittally as I can while continuing in silence to eat my red-bean-patty olive burger.