Today, Butch and Sundance decided to turn the tables on Louise and I, and tried to knock us off in their own subtle way.
As I’m sure you can decipher from our photos and posts, Louise and I spent a long time and invested a lot of thought and effort meticulously planning this trip. Doing so, we had planned on each leg averaging with a 6 hour drive, and then a day in between to take in the local sights.
After Butch and Sundance arrived, that kind of went out the window.
So our two busiest driving days were yesterday and today to split up 1000 miles while they were here to help shoulder the drive.
They apparently were not amused.
After 13 1/2 hours in the RV yesterday, we arrived to the hotel after bistro hours–whatever that even means–so we had to get pizza in the lobby without the FULL BAR their website clearly stated would accommodate us. The next morning, same said sketchy bistro served up fictious breakfasts, so we started the day hungry. And sober.
So moving along the highway, they cozied up in the comfy front seats while Louise and I maneuvered through the mass of children and all their wants and needs. Five hours in, we asked about lunch which was quickly answered with, “Fargo. We’ll stop in Fargo.”
Fargo came and Fargo went. No lunch.
Exit after exit, they found fault and as we passed around a cut up Funyon between a dozen people they said, “When we do stop, I think it should be light–like a hummus plate or something.”
Now I like a good crudite platter as much as the next guy, but adulting in the back seat of camper with 9 kids and 4 controllers to the gaming system burns more calories than a couple of celery stalks. The children were so hungry they were foraging between the couch cushions, which is not a healthy practice on Day 16. They began peeling the Bananagrams for sustenance. They brushed their teeth extra long just for some sparkle berry juice residue.
Butch and Sundance were unmoved by our plight.
Hours later after two fainting spells and a massive orange juice spill which rendered us completely foodless–they relented and let us go through a McDonalds to the unsatisfaction of all.
But retribution would soon be ours in three simple, yet totally terrifying words to a Dad.
Mall of America.
Bet that Fargo Panera doesn’t look that far off the Interstate now, does it, boys?