Posted Thursday 08/27/2009 5:20 PM in
Stupid Fun by Richard McVey
Filed under: silent farter, the talker, road trip personalities

Pick a station, any station, and he's singing the songs. Because God forbid you actually hear the artist who spent millions of dollars in the studio to record it to perfection. No, the Sing-Along Guy thinks he can do it one better. And don't bother turning it to an instrumental station because he'll just hum that shit for hours.

No sooner did you pick this guy up at his girlfriend's apartment than he's on the phone with her talking all lovey-dovey schmoopey crap for hours. During rest stop breaks he starts in on the whole, "No you hang up first....No you hang up...." Or worse: "No, I love YOU more...Yes, I do..."

Always a girl with a bladder the size of a shot glass, she can turn a five-hour trip into an all-day event. It usually starts out harmlessly, "Sorry, I have to pee," about 30 minutes in. Then at the 1-hour mark, "I shouldn't have gotten that Big Gulp, I guess." Then at 1:30, "That last restroom was icky and I couldn't go all the way." Then at 2 hours: "Can you stop again? I'm about to burst."

This fellow traveler wants to spend the entire time discussing things. Not particularly important things, but just random things. And it never stops. Just talking, talking and more talking. You can nod off and wake up and they're still talking. You can turn the radio on, or fake a phone call, but they'll still be talking.

Always a guy, he wants to get there as fast as possible no matter what. In his mind, there's only one reason to stop, and that's to get gas. If you have to pee seven hours into the trip, he'll ask if you can hold it for another hour. If you need food, he'll throw some crackers at you. A sure sign that you're about to embark on a trip with this guy is when he references his "record time."

Probably a grandparent, this is the exact opposite of the Making Great Timer. They don't want to push the vehicle past 55, even on the interstate. As cars blow past you going 20 or 30 mph faster, you realize that you'll likely be rear-ended and killed by semi before you reach your destination.

You're typically tipped off as soon as you get in the car because it smells like it's made of recycled ashtrays and ass. A serious smoker will light up one after another with smoke floating around the car like early morning London fog. He manages to eat, drink and talk with a cigarette dangling from his lip. About six hours into the trip he offers a nice, "Hey, let me crack this window for you." It doesn't matter. You've cut 2.7 years off your life already.

Like a stink ninja, he busts one SBD after another in the close confines of the car. Typically you're signaled to the oncoming onslaught by a quick giggle or a polite "Excuse me." Depending on your comfort level, you either react with a "What the hell, dude?!" while quickly rolling down your window, or you suffer through silent nausea. Either way, it's going to be a long trip.
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| Posted by tom ireland on 08/27/2009 8:34 PM | report abuse |
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im definatly number 1.
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