personal narrative -2b-

Looking back, the actual driving part of the road trip was the best part. Trying to make tuna fish sandwiches while going 100 mph probably isn’t the safest thing, but we managed. Robyn’s car got great gas mileage, but there was one instance where she noticed that there was enough gas to get us ten miles (down hill, with the wind pushing us) and we were smack dab in the middle of nowhere. All of a sudden we spotted a tiny town to the left, and we pulled off the freeway. Half an hour later we were standing in a bar trying to figure out how to get the gas out of this antique pump, the kind you only see in movies. Robyn wasn’t too happy with the selection of gas (her car took premium). We also noticed something wrong with the tires while we were stopped, but didn’t think anything of it. We were on our way again!
As we neared the Washington/Idaho border, I began to get nervous. Josh was going to meet us outside of the gates to give us access to the base, and take us to our lodgings. As I kept looking in the mirror and fixing my makeup and hair, Robyn just laughed. Josh was bringing a friend for her, but she was just excited to be going back to an air force base. Admittedly, we both have a weakness for men in uniform.
The time finally arrived. We pulled into the small parking lot outside of the base and waited. After waiting a little bit longer than I would have liked, I got a phone call from Josh saying that they were almost there. All of a sudden I saw a truck rounding the corner with two guys in it. I didn’t feel bad about it now, but my first thought was “he’s not as attractive as I remember.” Regardless of his appearance, I was thrilled. He introduced us to his friend (Paul) and we drove onto the base. That was when the trouble started.
When we went to get a room in the base motel, we were told that they were all unavailable. I was more annoyed than mad, and we ended up driving away from the base looking for a motel. I don’t know how, but we managed to find the scariest motel in the state. I wanted to nick-name it the “bates motel.” You could just picture the young man in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho standing behind the main window. As soon as the fog rolled in and the prostitutes came out, my worst fears about the hotel were confirmed. But through all of this I was still optimistic because I was going to have the time of my life!