"Can a Bitch Get Out?"

“Can a bitch get out?” Holly exclaimed because she had been trapped in the back of the Acura for close to four hours and desperately had to pee. We we’re on our way to see U2 and this trip was getting longer by the moment. Here we were, the three of us, sitting in this gas station Subway considering if maybe this trip was a bad idea. Hell no it wasn’t!

“Where’s my brandy old fashion sweet with this order?” I was on my first shift back at Houlihan’s; back in the thick of the Wisconsin Dells tourist season, attempting to get my head out of the relaxed care free culture of Cuba and back into the neediness and demanding mode of America. The only thing that I knew for sure is that Corbin would be to work soon and he was going to reveal where we were going to go see U2 for their 2001 summer tour. Before I left the country, I told him to just get us tickets. Didn’t matter where, just get them. So, when he finally told me “don’t worry, I already got you the days off work”, I began to worry. “We’ve got tickets for next Thursday. In D.C.”

I just got done traveling for two months and the last thing I could afford was a trip to Washington D.C. This was the summer of 2001. This was pre-gay, pre-degree, pre-Vegas. I only had one response to this. “So what’s the plan?”

The plan was that I close the bar on Wednesday night, where then, we would get in his Acura Integra, and drive our asses directly to Washington D.C., see the concert, and then get back by Friday afternoon before we both had to work at 4pm. No problem!

I finished work that night like planned where we learned our friend Abigail was not going with us. “Who are we going to get to take this third ticket last minute?” Then, with the grace of god, or some other very powerful vivacious force, a slightly intoxicated Holly Ace wandered through the front door to find out why we were still at work.

“Holly, you wanna go on a trip?” as if we were talking to a child.
“Sure, where are you going?”

“Just trust us, you’ll love it. Just go home and get a change of clothes”

“You two better not be bringing me to some foreigner party because I’m not putting up with it tonight. Well, maybe I’ll put up with it. Just tell me where the hell we’re going!”

“We’re driving to see U2. In D.C. You so are you coming with us?”

“Of course I am”

So, after a quick trip to Denny’s to say goodbye to Abigail, Gregg, Corbin and one sobering Holly Ace began their trip to Washington D.C. The time was now 2:30am Central Standard Time and the concert was at 7:30pm Eastern Standard Time. Yeah, I know, stupid young people.
I had the first leg of the trip. I enjoy driving at night. I have a trick though. I turn on AM radio and listen to crazies call in and talk about everything from conspiracy theories to alien abductions. When that gets boring, I pop in any musical and start blaring along. I picked this trick up from Ayo the summer prior when we drove out to New York. Later, after my first solo drive to Vegas, I would add singular wrapped candies and Red Bull to the mix. Then I could stay awake for eternity.

We made it till morning, and had just entered Pennsylvania when we finally changed drivers. I figured it was best because I still had a speeding ticket in Pennsylvania from that trip with Ayo. Kids! We switched and I attempted to take a nap. Honestly, the back seat of an Acura Integra was not built for 200lb, 6’1” men. Especially if they decide they’re going to take s nap lying down. So, instead, Corbin and Holly decided to play a game of Silly Willy with me which, for an eight year old child, should have lasted hours. Unfortunately I was twenty one and it took me even longer.

So there we are, over half way to D.C. adrenaline wearing down, realizing that it was time to eat. The last filling thing we ate was at Denny’s, at bar time, and that’s what I have to say about that. Adding to that grease was all the shit that one eats on a road trip, (energy drinks, chips, candy, ect) it was time to find something a little more sensitive to our stomachs and that is when we stopped at a random gas station in the middle of Pennsylvania that happened to have a Subway. “Can a bitch get out?” as we all raced for the bathroom.

Nothing outrageous happened during this pit stop. It was truly one of the most lifeless lunches I’ve ever had. All three of us thinking, “this had better be a great fucking concert”.

There was surprisingly not excessive traffic when we arrived into D.C…............