Monday, August 2, 2010




Day 4

Friday, July 30, our van stopped working. It was a little too late to get it looked at. We had it towed to Tifton, GA, where we stayed for the night. In the morning a mechanic said, "I can't figure out what's wrong with it. I can replace the fuel pump, but ain't no guarantee that will fix it." Onward HO!

So we pushed on. About 50 miles later, the van stopped running. We had to push it into the gas station at the next exit. Somehow God has cursed Georgia to be even hotter than Florida, and we sat outside waiting for Triple A. Aunt Karen's familiars came and picked us up and took us to a nice hotel. That was Saturday. The garage looked at our van on Sunday, but still couldn't figure out what was going on. It is now Monday. Four days of being trapped in southern Georgia.

We've been living off of delivered pizza and the flat, expired soda that the front desk gladly let us have for free. I don't know what we'll do if they don't fix it today. I have this really helpless feeling. Yesterday, I walked about half a mile down to the Best Buy and played the video games on display just to have something to do.

Being cooped up in a hotel room for three days are causing tensions to grow. Dillon seems extra on edge because his romantic advances towards everyone are increasing. Kyle got the shakes and can't leave the bed. Alex has unpacked and repacked everyone's suitcase, putting the clothes in alphabetical order. Kurt is the worst. He keeps throwing up on things around the room and then claiming it is his. Like a territorial thing. And me? I spend most of the time in the bathroom pooping and combing my hair at the same time. It's a nervous tick, I suppose. But if we have to stay here one more night, someone will surely die.

If you pray, pray for us to get home soon. If you cross your fingers, cross them that the van will get fixed. If you wish upon a star, you're an idiot because it is already day and we don't want to stay here another night.

If you are rich, come get us and take us home.

God it stinks in here. Kurt just threw up on my last pair of clean underwear.