Last summer, Ronnie Sykes had himself an excellent adventure. Now he shares it exclusively with The Eyeopener.
Last summer, me and my friends Kyle and Darren decided to go on a road trip. We filled the car with half a tank of gas, saying we would go as far as the gas could take us, and then we would turn back.
First we drove west. I spent my time listening to Mariah Carey’s excellent greatest hits package. People keep saying all her songs sound the same, but with that voice, wouldn’t you want them to?
At some point, Kyle took a small road north, and we ended up in a trailer park. After that, we drove down a one-way road that had no signs.
I was beginning to get a bit worried. The idea of the road trip was that we would end up in some strange town, like Penticton, or Labradour, but we were figuratively in the middle of nowhere. Also, we were quickly running out of gas, and I hadn’t seen a car for miles.
I stopped Mariah for a second and tapped Kyle on the shoulder. He woke with a start and drove straight into a hill covered in mica! Apparently he’d been sleeping since we left Darren’s house.
The car was undamaged. We tried to get Kyle to turn the car around, but he was worried because it was a one-way rad and he already had the maximum number of demerits on his license.
By this time, it was 7:37 p.m. and we were all cold and hungry. We decided to camp on the hill and hunt for food in the area. There was a Burger King nearby, but all of us, save for Kyle, can’t stand the Burger King mascot, that kid from the future, so we kept walking.
I began to realize I might die. Not on this trip, but perhaps sometime in the future.
There was a Popeye’s Chicken on the other side of the road, and even though Kyle can’t stand poultry, it was up to my standards, as well as Darren’s, and that’s all that mattered to anybody.
I ordered a two-piece chicken meal, and Darren had the 15-piece bucket. Kyle, in protest, ordered a chicken sandwich.
After dinner, we waited for about an hour to get into the bathroom before we realized you needed a key and someone was not, in fact, going to the bathroom for a long time.
Our bellies full with the sensations of chicken-esque products, we ventured back to the car. But we couldn’t find it. Kyle got a bit upset that we refused to help him look for it, but Darren and I kind of wrote it off, because Darren has a car too and we just don’t like paying for gas.
We walked into a small suburb and found Kyle’s house. We decided to set up camp in his bedroom. I took the bed; Darren took Kyle’s two couches, and Kyle slept on the floor.
In the morning, we hit the road again, walking north-north-east. We stopped by Amos’ house to see what ol’ Amos was up to. Amos wanted to build a fort. Amos is one of those guys who never really stopped believing he was 17. I mean, honestly, who builds a fort after the age of 17. Mind you, Amos is only 11.
That night we camped out in the fort Amos built out of couch cushions and chairs.
The next morning, I called my mom. She picked up the phone at the same time I called, so she dialled a number. When it didn’t ring, she said, “Hello? Hello?” and hung up. I decided to call back after the water fight.
The four of us, me, Darren, Amos and his little brother Connie, put on war paint and took Super Soakers into the woods behind Amos’ mansion.
It was super fun, except I forgot to put water in my Super Soaker, and couldn’t tell because Amos and Darren kept squirting right in my eye!
Things took a definite turn for the worse when we lost Amos’ little brother in the words. Leave it to a three-year-old to get lost without adult supervision.
Darren and I used this as an excuse to go home. It was getting late, and I hadn’t seen my mother in some time.
Eventually I ended up at my house. Something wasn’t quite right. I began to wonder of we had ripped a hole in the space-time continuum, and were standing in a parallel universe, like in that amazing show, Sliders.
I walked inside. There was my mom, but was it my real mom, or my parallel universe mom?