Too much happened.
I'm surprised a mere blog post could fit all this information.
So I went out of town. It was a six-hour drive, which is slightly infuriating because our town has nothing. Like, the regional district board has spent millions on... pipes. And internet. And an overly fancy lap pool. We don't need any of those things! We're still missing a McDonalds, and a hockey arena, and a waterslide, and an arcade. We're also missing elevators.
So we drove out there.
It's a small city in the interior. We checked in to a nice hotel with elevators, where our room number also happened to be our P.O. box number. The hotel room had a TV, a small bathroom, a coffee maker, a desk, and a mini-fridge, and also those beds that they make in such a weird way so that the sheets are super tight. It's like sleeping in a pantyhose.
And we went to a McDonalds drive-thru. It was beautiful. I even saw a Coca-Cola truck for the first time in my life. I know seeing a Coca-Cola truck is normal for most people, but for me it was a whimsical fairy-tale dream.
Anyway, I finished my nuggets and fries and yogurt thing, and we checked in to the hotel. I found some radio stations with some good music and stuff about weather. I had a thing of fake honey and drank two creamers. Wonderful overall.
The next day, I woke up early and looked out the window, which faced the freeway.
I went to Staples to get my passport photo, since my passport had expired basically 10 years ago (and that's why I never go out of the country). A girl with a very high-pitched voice got me to sit on a stool in front of a giant rectangular light.
She pulled out a camera and crouched down a bit, then said, "Pull your bangs back. We must see your forehead."
I didn't exactly want Staples, the girl, or the border guards to see my giant forehead, but before I could even move my hands, my parents rushed over to me and started adjusting my every detail, shoving their rough hands into my face. I pushed them away and was like, "I CAN MOVE MY OWN HAIR. I'M NOT AN INFANT," but they weren't listening. The girl also told me to put my hair back so they could see my ears, and my parents rushed over AGAIN, but I told them I could move my own hair. Again. Then they said my forehead was covered again, so I moved my hair again, and my ears were covered again, etc. etc. etc. etc.!
Eventually they moved their butts outta the way and I sat in a fancy pose as the girl snapped two photos of me. A bright light flashed each time. Then I waited by the electronics display, checking out a cool PC. I saw the girl and another person putting my image into a photo editor, cropping it, rotating it, and putting some green circle around my face.
Then the girl went over to me and said, "your body is too diagonal. It must be straight." My parents lectured me about sitting up straight as I settled into the chair once more.
I sat up straight. The girl took a few more photos, then walked away, editing mine and printing it out. They seemed mildly satisfied this time. The photo did look a hundred times better than I expected (it's amazing what the right lighting can do), but then it was Dad's turn.
He settled happily into the chair in front of the light, almost smiling (the staff didn't seem to notice), and no one lectured him on his hair position or shoved him into the right posture. The photos were just snapped, hastily edited, and printed out.
Our photos were put in an envelope, then we exited the store. We were going out for Chinese food with our friend Joe. It was at a restaurant called Ming's. The moment we walked in, it didn't fit the Chinese vibe. It was rows of cramped tables and chairs, like a prison dining hall, with modern lights hanging from the ceiling. A tree had tiny Chinese lantern ornaments hanging from its leaves. A lucky cat and a candy jar of fortune cookies were set on a small counter.
A waitress led us to a table at the very end of the restaurant by a window facing Main Street. Dad and Mom got a glass of water, Joe requested an iced tea, and I ordered a glass of milk. Each of us grabbed a plate and walked over to the "Chinese" self-serve buffet, where steaming hot dishes sat in tanks under spotlights.
I put some noodles, mushrooms, and a bowl of wonton soup on my plate. Then my parents slapped two giant, melty broccolis that were probably made with a combination of radioactive waste and vomit. I went for the coffee creamers instead (I usually just open them and drink them). And you'll never guess what happened next.
THE CREAMERS WERE EXPIRED.
I took one sip and knew. It was disgusting. I finished my wonton broth and planned my one-star review online for when I got home. This was a terrible Chinese restaurant that didn't sell Chinese food, had a bad vibe, a lonely feeling, and of course, we were the only ones in the giant dining area.
We left the restaurant. Joe filled up my pockets with gold candies and fortune cookies. My fortune said, "You will be successful in competitive sports." That means discus!!! HOORAY!!!!! We stopped by the lawyer for a short time, and then I got a pair of shiny black shoes at Joe Fresh, and then it was a six hour drive back home.
On the drive, Dad saw something on the road. He thought it was a ptarmigan (a grouse when it turns white in the winter), then he thought it was a white rabbit, then he thought it was a snowball. Then he replaced rock paper scissors with "Ptarmigan, Rabbit, Snowball." Genius idea.
We cuddled our dog as we unloaded the truck. However, it was difficult for me to get into my shoes. I had been sitting in the truck for six hours, which had caused my feet to swell up multiple sizes until I could barely move them.
I blame that intersection light. I have a strange phobia of certain traffic lights, as well as construction signs and road construction machines. I have no idea why, but it feels like they're going to "get me." There was a flashing yellow light at an intersection, dangling down from a metal post as if taunting me, flashing for miles until it disappeared over the horizon. It felt deliberately menacing.
Anyways, in summary, travel is exhausting but totally, totally worth it.
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