There and Back Again... A Rossman's Travelogue

Every once in a while I'll forget about something, either with or without the help of alcohol. Last summer is basically the biggest example I can now tell you about. I was on the road with my friends Karen, Big D, Little J, Rodney, Heather and Matt^3 for a good two weeks while we traveled up and down the Eastern Seaboard of these here United States in a monster, gas guzzling SUV (with a nice little DVD player and 9" widescreen LCD monitor attached to the ceiling). Now, I can't seem to remember this trip all that well, but I do have photographs of me and the gang while we toured the nation, and I also found my travelogue of the 14 days in which the world apparently slowed to a crawl and our Excursion shot by D.C. at around 85 MPH. So I thought since I couldn't come up with anything else to write about this week, I might as well cover this trip.

This is my story. Enjoy!

(The Rossman's Editor here. Now, since the Rossman's notes didn't make ANY sense in and of themselves, I found that I had to track his travel buddies down myself and get them to give me permission to post their own logs about the trip. This was easy once I told them that the Rossman made it sound like he was the only sane, intelligent, unincestful one who partook in the journey. This is their story too)

Cheer, ya feckin' animal!!Boston was a pretty cool town. They call it "Bean Town" or something, but there aren't many more beans in it than any other city. What does that refer to anyway? Pinto beans? Lima beans? Coffee beans? Shouldn't Seattle, home of Starbucks and evil alternative dressing trends, be called "Bean Town"? They're probably all floating in coffee beans. And Mexico should be called "Bean Country" for all the jumping beans and burrito beans they make and eat there.

So, we hit Boston and saw where Good Will Hunting got all smart and all and got to know Robin Williams and his farting wife. Then we made fun of the Red Socks and kept throwing apples at people and yelling in horrible Ted Kennedy-like accents, "You like apples?! How you like DEM apples, ya feckin' bastards!!!" Then, in honor of the old Kennedy himself, we got piss drunk, drove a car off a bridge and killed a woman. Good times.

Rossman's Travelogue (May 30, 2003)

Well, after waking up at an UNGODLY hour, the gang got the SUV packed and we hit the road by 10. Things were relatively quiet. Big D volunteered to drive most of the way, so the rest of us just hung out in the back seats and watched a bunch of movies on the DVD player and high def screen. I brought Holy Grail, Naked Gun, Top Secret and Naked Gun 2 1/2 so that we'd stay in happy and peppy moods for the whole trip.

We did stop for lunch in South Carolina in order to meet my brother who was on a business trip in the area. That was great! Not only did we get to catch up for a little bit but he also picked up the tab! Way to go, bro!

After that we hit the road again and played "Punchbuggy" and "Name that quote" in between nap times. Let me tell you, the trip just seemed to FLY by! We got to my Uncle's place in Red Bank by around 8 o'clock that night (which seemed strange since I was told that it would take us about 16-18 hours to make the trip. Heh, go fig.

Heather's Journal (May 30, 2003)

Oh... My... God... This is such a horrible trip! First of all, we tried to get going early, before rush hour, at like 4 or 5 in the morning, but the Rossman wouldn't answer his door (even after we set fire to it) until like 8:50. What a cock! Then, he made us watch that really stupid movie about King Arthur and his Merry Men or something while he kept shouting out the lines in case we couldn't hear the actors on the screen. This like wouldn't have bothered me all that much if we could have dumped his body somewhere and gone on the trip without him, but considering we are going to stay with his family up in New Jersey for a few days before moving on, it would be in poor taste for us to show up on his Uncle's doorstep without that asshole with us. "What? Oh, the Rossman? Sorry, but he jumped out of the car into oncoming traffic outside of Durham. All we have left of him is this bloody baseball bat. Sorry. Where's our rooms?" I don't see that as working... Though with each passing minute of "RED PUNCHBUGGY!!! BLUE PUNCHBUGGY!!!" I'm getting more tempted to try it. When the fuck are we going to get there?!?!

Rodney's Logbook (May 30, 2003)

So after a late as hell start, we had to stop off in Greenesville, South Carolina to meet with the Rossman's brother for lunch. Not that his bro is a bad guy or anything (he's actually 1,000Xs more groovy than the Rossman himself... I just wish we could have taken the bro with us instead), but it ate into our already shortened daylight trip time by a good hour and a half. Damn! I felt really bad for the bro though cause as he went to the bathroom right before the check came the Rossman said something like, "Oh, let's just go. He makes more than all of us put together and divided by 6. Don't worry. Hurry up! He might come back soon!!"

Though the person I felt most sorry for was Big D. It was his dad's Excursion we were riding in, but he didn't even get a choice of movie or anything that we were playing in the back.. In fact, he never got a break in driving the entire trip! Though that one time he did ask if anybody wanted to drive the Rossman was the first to volunteer, and after running over two shopping carts and three children while just backing up in the parking lot it was quickly decided by Big D himself that nobody else would ever touch the wheel the rest of the trip. I guess that's why he went 92 mph the rest of the way and got us there in less than 10 hours. I was quite impressed.

Oh, my shoulder still hurts from that goddamn Volkswagen game. I think I'll pee in the Rossman's sleeping bag before he goes to sleep tonight.

Little J's Diary (May 30, 2003)

Is it just me, or did the Rossman's uncle look confused when we got to his house. It seemed like he was just woken up by our arrival, which is kind of odd if he was expecting us.

What the fuck is a "Nootch" anyway?While in the Jersey, I made it a special point to visit Jay and Silent Bob's Secret Stash. It was just 3 or so blocks away from the hospital where I was born! It's like it was MADE for me and my super hero needs!

I was a bit disappointed though! Not only was Brodie NOT behind the counter, but I couldn't even find Walt Flanagan or Steve-Dave. That's just lame.

If I remember correctly, the place did have some fun mementos from a couple of Kevin Smith's films, but I just can't seem to remember which ones... The whole place seemed kinda, well, foggy. Like you were inside a roach motel.. Kind of made me want to start singing: "Fuck, fuck, fuck, mother-mother fuck, mother-mother fuck-fuck! Mother fuck-, mother-fuck, mother-fuck, noinch-noinch, noinch, smoking weed, smoking weed, doing coke, drinking beers! Drinking beers, beers, beers, rolling fatties, smoking blunts! Who smokes the blunts? We smoke the blunts!"

Since I can't remember, let's just say that it had Blunt Man and Chronic's costumes on display, along with Dante's goatee, the magazine that the dude with the 'roids took with him into the restroom, Stan Lee's severed right hand, and Mark Hamill all in glass cases.

Rossman's Travelogue (May 31, 2003)

After a good, but soggy, night sleep, my Aunt made us all a nice and hearty breakfast, and then all of my cousins started coming over with their families (trust me, this is a big ordeal considering there are like 50 of my cousins from my Uncle alone, and each of them has a husband or a wife and 30-40 kids of their own). By around 6, most everybody had arrived, and most everybody was drunk. I tell you, I looked forward all my life to hanging out with my cousins and getting wasted with them. They were all older than me, and I always felt left out of all the old family gatherings since I ALWAYS had to sit at the childrens' table and never got any booze. But that night, I partied like I was 18 and sneaking into the nudie bar for the first time!!... Except there was no bouncer with my family, and nobody got naked... Except for possibly me, but I'm not too sure about that. Too many Wallbangers. Urgh.... Nighty night.

Karen's Hello Kitty Diary (May 31, 2003)

Holy crap. Now, I've seen the Rossman do some KRAZY shit over the years, but... What he did at his Uncle's house in front of his cousins and all of their kids wasn't crazy, per se, it was just NUTS. Table dancing on antique dining room tables, jumping up on the baby grand and demanding that his cousin Johnny "be one of the Fabulous Baker Boys" and sing and play him to sleep, going skinny dipping in the hottub with his cousins-in-law when they clearly were in their bathing suits, and tapping and draining that keg of PBR all by his lonesome. He would actually *bark* at people if they came near it (even if it was just to say, "Hey, cousin! Long time no-" "RUFF!!!"). By the end of the night I was just pretending that I crashed the family reunion. It was a lot less embarrassing than saying that I came with the Rossman.

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