Friday, September 29, 2006
Recruiting trips can make you appreciate being alive
Whew. I'm glad to be here. In one piece. When one goes on recruiting trips, one apparently is assigned a "host" (who is a member of the team...). As we set out to do many various activities, including going downtown (technically it's "uptown"), my host didn't possess a car. Because of this, I got to ride with a rich daddy's big boy. Yes. He was from the "East" side, in a fancy brand new car, that goes from 0-60 in a few seconds. AND he was still obsessed about his old high school: Skyline. Because of this, he was one of the people I loathe the most. Those idiot drivers that swerve in and out everywhere, going 60 MPH in a 35 MPH zone. On my trip back from the Rocky Point Haunted House to the dorms, my hands were clutched so tight that they hurt, but I couldn't unclench them until I was on firm ground. I'm still phased out from the crazy driving (no stopping, unless it's a red light, at least 80 MPH on the crowded freeway, swift out of control turns, looking at radio more than the road, more often than not taking up two lanes, etc.) and I hope I recover. For now, I vow to walk wherever we're going, except for the first trip in the morning, and I hope to catch a ride with someone else besides this lunatic named Drew.
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4 comments:
How did you like Rocky Point? I saw a commerical for it on TV and became honestly frightened. Yes, pathetic, I know.
I'm a weenie in every sense of the word. Or, at least the part that is defined as a whiny weakling. Which is my personal definition. Not the whole hot dog thing.
That was the dumbest comment EVER!
I should erase it but then you'll wonder what it said... ooh... curse those old man jokes!
I am the only person who has commented on this blog.
So much for trying to be the last one on every post.
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