Ever since I can remember, leaving for a vacation is guaranteed tears, fights, and hostility. It usually begins with my engineer dad staring at the trunk, and then staring at the 75 suitcases and bags that have to somehow be fit in there. He starts loading the car, muttering profanities under his breath, as he notices the bags my mom or I have tried to sneak into the pile. If you look closely, you'll notice the vein in his forehead pulsing
furiously.
While dad is loading the car, my brothers and I start reallllly getting on each others nerves. When the parents have their heads turned we are most likely throwing batteries at each other, then begging the other not to tell when said batteries hit each someone in the head.
So. The car is packed. Everyone is in their assigned seating and we are pulling out of the driveway. Someone forgot something. Vein pulsing intensifies.
15 minutes later.
Someone has to pee (or God forbid go number 2) and we aren't even out of Birmingham. Vein threatens to explode.
Sound familiar to anyone else?
I swore that I would not put my family through that and that any vacation we took would be calm and relaxed.
...then I got married and had children. I am my father. Scary shiz right there. ;p
We leave for Orlando at 7:00am. Lord help us all. We are driving with Jeb, my mom and dad, Brad, and the two babies. In. One. Car. Xanax anyone?
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Location:Linden St,Trussville,United States
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