Or shit, I mean as often as we could. Above: the earliest, and most efficient/optimistic part of the journey. Us: "Wow, it's kind of great that we spent all last night awake, seething in our tents, silently, guiltily wishing that the beachside firework throwers would accidentally shoot a really deadly one into the streetside bar full of truly, truly obnoxious drunk people who were, frankly, just making French people look bad alllllll night. Drinking games with chanting and hysterical screaming, maniacal laughing, endless yet sporadic (you know what I mean, endless bursts) applause, terrrrrible hip-hop, and, well, jesus, speaking French. Poo poo poo poo poo. All fucking night, fuck youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.
Know why? Know why this happened? I do. Because a post or two ago I said "they" went to bed early and didn't know how to have any fun. Whatever, I still believe the latter. I also think that I should somehow close my quotation mark that I opened last paragraph b/c this has gone from being a paraphrased fictional discussion to being my own grim, violent mid-night musings.
Annnnywayyyyy: "Great that we're up, look how empty the roads are at 8am Sunday morning!"
"Hey, what is there to put on this two-day old piece of bread? Yeah, unrefrigerated raw-milk cheese that smells like a diseased foot? No, let's stick to fruit conserves and rapidly melting butter."
A French gas station. "Does this remind you of The Vanishing at all? Stay close: remember how that one ended."
Monop' Flunch. Since this was hopefully the last time we'd ever be in France, we bought a (good) fresh baguette and this goat cheese.
We were still kind of enjoying ourselves by this point, saying "au revoir France" as we sped away chomping on our gas station baguette and goat cheese. Fuck you! We're outta here! The sad face part came when we hit the city of Bordeaux and literally sat in one place on the highway for 10 minutes. No moving. Then, motion! 50 feet. 3 minutes of no progress. Repeat.
Adventure Man then wisely and/or completely luckily chose that moment to panic and/or hit the onboard navigation's "Detour" button to compute an alternate route.
Beeping and booping away on the massive dashboard supercomputer that came for free with the car, Adventure Man thought to himself or possibly out loud, "Certainly every car has this technology. Won't everyone just be taking the same detour?"
Well, no. Only 9 other cars had this technology. Instead of sitting in what the news later told us was a one-hour traffic jam, we were kind of speeding along at 50mph.
I mean.......it still took 8 hours to get to San Sebastián, which, contrary to what some people named Nelson had always heard/thought/read, immediately seemed like a completely charming and borderline beautiful Spanish city on the water, with a great ocean that crashed right inside the city.
More upside: remind me to tell you about the difference between Spain and France.
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