Crisis #1-A Stinky Situation
I'm in McDonald's for what feels like the third time in three days. This is the first time, but... Burger King, Wendy's, McDonald's, it's all the same garbage. "It's all McDonald's." And each similarly defines a day of rushing around or plans gone wrong.
Truck: broken
Trailer: broken
I guess a lot has happened in the past two days, so why don't we take a step back.
Thursday, 02 Sep 2015
We made it to the "Crossroads of America" (Indiana for those of you who haven't memorized your state mottoes). We arrived to the campground only an hour late with just enough time to give the trailer a quick walk through and get a short lesson from the owner on the ins and outs on operating it and zip off to the bank for our all cash transaction and title transfer. When we got to the bank we realized, yet again, that Khaki, the dog, was in the car, and we can't leave her because it was just too hot. So perhaps we'd tie her up outside. But no good hitching post was available so with some hesitation we brought her in with us fully prepared for the slight possibility that she may pee on the marble floor. The transaction went smoothly, and as we were about to walk out our little one ended up having an accident right there in the lobby after all. I don't mean Khaki. This little one was AJ, and the experience helped me realize the value of the famed "tighty whitey" underpants. AJ's fancy little boxer briefs did little to contain what he himself could not. With every movement another turd would 'plop' onto the marble floors. The entire lobby reeked. While Dad and LJ ran to grab AJ a fresh pair of clothes, Mama was informed that the bank had no restroom for us commoners. What ensued was a full street-side wipe down. This boy looked like he had jumped waist deep into a mud pit, covered solid from ankle to waistband. LJ, ever curious, made every effort to write his name on AJ's backside, or at least doodle with his pudgy little finger. Crisis #1 overcome.
Crisis #2- The Mini Crisis
The previous owners left the bank, still with trailer keys in hand! Our phones were in the car and we were so busy taking care of crisis #1 they weren't able to reach us once they had realized. After 11 missed calls they finally got a hold of us when we got back to our truck and met us once again to give us our new keys. Now with the title signed and keys in hand we had everything we needed to be fully terrified: we had no clue what we were doing.
I'm in McDonald's for what feels like the third time in three days. This is the first time, but... Burger King, Wendy's, McDonald's, it's all the same garbage. "It's all McDonald's." And each similarly defines a day of rushing around or plans gone wrong.
Truck: broken
Trailer: broken
I guess a lot has happened in the past two days, so why don't we take a step back.
Thursday, 02 Sep 2015
We made it to the "Crossroads of America" (Indiana for those of you who haven't memorized your state mottoes). We arrived to the campground only an hour late with just enough time to give the trailer a quick walk through and get a short lesson from the owner on the ins and outs on operating it and zip off to the bank for our all cash transaction and title transfer. When we got to the bank we realized, yet again, that Khaki, the dog, was in the car, and we can't leave her because it was just too hot. So perhaps we'd tie her up outside. But no good hitching post was available so with some hesitation we brought her in with us fully prepared for the slight possibility that she may pee on the marble floor. The transaction went smoothly, and as we were about to walk out our little one ended up having an accident right there in the lobby after all. I don't mean Khaki. This little one was AJ, and the experience helped me realize the value of the famed "tighty whitey" underpants. AJ's fancy little boxer briefs did little to contain what he himself could not. With every movement another turd would 'plop' onto the marble floors. The entire lobby reeked. While Dad and LJ ran to grab AJ a fresh pair of clothes, Mama was informed that the bank had no restroom for us commoners. What ensued was a full street-side wipe down. This boy looked like he had jumped waist deep into a mud pit, covered solid from ankle to waistband. LJ, ever curious, made every effort to write his name on AJ's backside, or at least doodle with his pudgy little finger. Crisis #1 overcome.
Crisis #2- The Mini Crisis
The previous owners left the bank, still with trailer keys in hand! Our phones were in the car and we were so busy taking care of crisis #1 they weren't able to reach us once they had realized. After 11 missed calls they finally got a hold of us when we got back to our truck and met us once again to give us our new keys. Now with the title signed and keys in hand we had everything we needed to be fully terrified: we had no clue what we were doing.
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