Noodles: Not that kind of trippin’.

I went on a road trip last week.  I won’t bore you by telling you a series of travel stories, because I hate when people do that to me, but I will ask you a few pertinent questions.

Have you ever been passed by someone whose license plate read “hadehaha”?

Have you ever driven for 12 hours and, when asked for the highlight of your drive, been forced to say that the greatest moment was when you saw a sign for a road called “Boody St.”?

Have you ever been offered a free hamburger at McDonald’s because they “made one too many”?  And then rejected it because you had no one to give it to and you were already questioning why you wanted to eat even one McDonald’s hamburger?

Have you ever been so bored by your drive that you prayed a speeder would pass you so you could drive an eighth of a mile behind them and let them trigger any speed traps?  

Have you ever admitted to speeding on a public website?  

Have you ever been astonished at returning home alive, so much so that you aren’t sure what to do with the gift that is now the rest of your life?

Have you ever eaten an entire bag of fruit snacks even though they were unspeakably nasty, because it’s hard to fall asleep while you’re chewing?

Have you ever given yourself a locked jaw by chewing for 12 straight hours?

Have you ever continued to chew, even though all you could fit in your mouth were carefully positioned flat pretzels and seaweed?

Have you ever followed a slow truck for an hour and then gleefully gotten a chance to pass, at extreme risk to life and limb, right before it turned onto a different road?  

Have you ever been driving for so long that you started hallucinating or had to pee in a bottle?  
(If so, I’m judging you a lot and you definitely need to get help.)