We’re taking a road trip this weekend, our first in a while without the dogs and four whole days off before I start my new role.
I love road trips, just thinking about it is enough to tug my heart strings.
I have a fairly standard road trip ritual:
+ Make a playlist, abiding by the following rules:
1 – The music should be communal, meaning both participants are known to enjoy any song selected and if you want to throw a little something new on there, it has to be fun with the high probability the other party will like it.
2 – If one person is doing all the driving, this rule can be bent. If you’re the sole driver, you get to pick whatever the hell you want, to make up for the fact you can’t be over there chilling out on your iPhone. Essentially, if you want to hear your music played in my car, you’d better have a licence.
3 – Nostalgia is always a great addition to any mix.
+ Check the weather at your destination. Hopefully it is going to be cold.
+ Pack the night before, using the patented Mathematical Underwear Minimum Packing Sum (MUMPS) where x = number of days on the trip and y = number of underpants packed and the equation is x+2 = y.
+ Make sure you go to MUJI and pick up their amazing travel-sized bottles of toner and moisturiser.
+ Pack your gym clothes, because you’ll be going to the gym while you’re away. No, really.
+ Pack cables and chargers for your Kindle, iPhone, iPad, Bluetooth speaker, camera and the dust buster you keep meaning to use to clean the car out of at least one (1) new corgi worth of fur.
+ Go to the petrol station and get Red Bull and petrol in that order of urgency. Probably also pick up a small hand sanitizer which you’ll forget is in the glove box until it splurts everywhere.
+ Get on the M5 and pick a lane. Overtake only when necessary, don’t be one of those dicks who’s watched too much Tokyo Drift and changes lanes more often then they change their underwear.
+ Don’t cry when Harley and Rose comes on the playlist, or if you really can’t help it, pop a pair of sunglasses on first.
+ Wait until your travel buddy is firmly ensconced in trawling Twitter and slightly dozy due to the warm sun and the rocking of the car, then start talking about the celebrity and maybe even personal gossip they normally wouldn’t tolerate. If they don’t appear to be reaching the relaxed state required, subtly turn the heater on low.
+ Take a detour through the tiny town, population 1,2011, you lived in when you were six. Point out the house the girl lived in who terriorised you that entire year, because almost 30 years later, you still remember exactly where it is (Hello, Kirsty).
+ Make one complete lap of the first large roundabout you come to in Canberra. Fuck it, make it two laps.
+ Discuss on a scale of one to ten which person needs to pee the most as you get lost on the way to the hotel. As a Red Bull drinker, you always get first dibs on the toilet.
+ Have that awkward experience when you check into any hotel, where you feel like the person at the desk is judging what kind of sex you plan to have in their hotel. Try and look very much like a person who doesn’t do that kind of thing. Also try and look like the kind of person who can afford to stay in the hotel. Your corgi fur covered luggage will not help this cause.
+ Get to the room and immediately assess how much complimentary toilet paper they’ve given you. Worry about whether that will last for the length of your stay. Continue to worry about this until you can casually duck into a convenience store and stock up without your travel companion noticing.
+ Hide the excess toilet paper in your luggage. Feel very satisfied and safe.
+ Hop on the bed to relax when your travel companion suggests having a nap. Instead lie very still and wonder about the hygiene logistics of using the glass they always put in the bathroom. Get thirstier and thirstier the more you think about it. Get up and drink from your cupped hands under bathroom tap. Lie back down on the bed, relieved. Wonder about the hygiene logistics of the tap you just had your mouth close to. Get up and do a worry wee.
+ Lie back down and remember you have this week’s Who magazine. Read it and get lost in the dreamy world of celebrity gossip. Slowly doze off and have your third dream in which you’re friends with Khloe Kardashian. Wake up completely relaxed and ready to have an amazing weekend.