Tales from the Vacation: The Final Chapter?!?!

by the Juice

Welcome to the last day of the vacation, and the last installment of Tales from the Vacation! It’s been a long road, but let’s not weep. Let’s just get right to it! You can play catch up, here:

part 1
part 2
the first half of part 3
the second half of part 3 part 4
part 5
part 5.5
part 6
part 7

I seriously dislike the last day of vacation. And not just for the obvious reasons. It a total pain in the arse, especially when a flight is involved. You’ve got to get all your crap in order, get the crew together. No one wants to leave. Then there’s the thought of the rental car return, makin' your flight in time. Blah, Blah…blah. The last day should really be called Wastedday. More of a wasted day then your first day of vacation. Why? Cause you can’t do anything. What’re you gonna do, go swimmin’? There’s no place to change, you’ve already checked out of your hotel room. If you’re on a Disney type vacation, like we were, whatrugonna do? Go to a park? You’re gonna leave all that luggage in the car? And then get nice and sweaty for the plane ride home? Of course you are. That’s what we did. Sorta. We spent our last few hours of Disney life at Downtown Disney, specifically the suck end. Better known as the West End. I ain’t gonna get into how sucky the West End is. I will another day. For now, know that it was hot, and we couldn’t find a dang place that sold cold water. It was a complete waste of time.


Then there was the plane ride home…We had an afternoon flight. Lucifer hadn’t taken his daily nap, which was the way I planned it. That way, he could sleep on the plane, and I would have a peaceful flight. In theory, of course. Apparently, Lucifer didn’t get the memo about nappin’ on the plane. He must’ve gotten the one that said to scream at the top of his lungs for 95% of the flight. Well, I guess that’s just the Juice sendin’ out stretchers again. Lucifer did take a nap. For about 30 minutes. Half hour of sleep on a 2 hour + flight. Not to mention the time waitin' on the ol’ tarmac. That’s not bad, right? Over two hours of screamin’, twistin’ and all around bitchin’

I know what you’re thinkin’. You’re thinkin’ “There’s the Juice, again, sendin’ out more of his stretchers.” First off, fuck you. Secondly, believe you me. I ain’t. From the moment the Juice planted ass down in the airplane seat with the lil bastard,’til the time the Juice calmly as possible put Lucifer’s ass in his car seat for the ride home, he wasn’t happy. Him or me. Want to know the best part? The missus was no help. NO HELP! And she’s the mother? Good thing she don’t know how to work a computer. Or I’d be performin’ the angry cobra for the next 11 years.

Here’s a little word problem for you. And I hate doin’ this to you. I really do. I swear to the Christ’s blue planet I hate word problems. The Juice always had a hard time extractin’ the right information out of those problem. And the fuckers that make ‘em always throw in extra shit into them just to fuck you up. They’re probably a bunch of nerds all snorkin’ about, thinkin’ how smart they are ‘cause they put this useless nonesense into their clever problems. Thos fuckin’ word problem nerds know that a guy like the Juice always falls for their terrible schemes. Damn, word problem nerds. Damn them all to hell. However, I digress…

Here’s the problem: You’re boardin’ a Southwest Airlines: You’re free to move about the country airplane. It’s you, your wife of 10 years (who is not a super wicked hot super model that makes millions of dollars a second. You dumped her Senior year of high school, ‘cause you wanted to nail Cindy Bevin. Who knew your ex would be “discovered” 3 months after you dumped her?) and 4 (yes four!) kids. You only paid for 5 seats. The airplane has 6 seats in a row, with 3 seats on either side of the plane. How long do you have to hold the screamin’ baby, before the missus realizes that you’re about to have any aneyurism from all the frustration your barely able to contain?

Can’t figure it out? So, you suck at word problems to? I don’t want to give it away, so use your mouse and highlight the super secret answer here: 45 god damn, motherfucking minutes into the flight!!!!! WTFMFF!!!!! Hard to believe? Believe it! The missus just smiled as I struggled endlessly trying to contain Lucifer. I asked her, I pleaded with her to take the kid. She just blew me off. I tell you, she’s lucky that she was in the other row. Or I would have continued to sit there “holdin'” that screamin’ kid. Oh, wait. I did continue to hold that screamin’ kid.

After all time givin’ the missus dirty looks, and cursin’ her existence, as well as mine, under my breath, the witch suddenly decides to take the baby. And you know what? Ten minutes later. Lucifer was sleepin’ on his mother. Dang, was I wicked pissed. Maybe if that witch would’ve taken him sooner, the lil bastard might have slept longer. The peace didn’t last, though. He woke up a half hour later nice and pissed off. But at least this time, the missus had to deal with him. Ha! LMMFAO!!!!!!! Bitch! I can say that and rest easy tonight knowin’ that the missus don’t know a computer mouse from a fork. As well as that last comment.

But, the story has a happy endin’! We all survived! It’s four months later and everyone's still breathin'. The moral of the story? If you like to have fun, don’t take your kids to Disney World. Not only will you have a much better time, but you’ll save lots of time, money and heartache. See here for the low down on that. How’s that for synergy?

So, this is the end. Sad, ain’t it? I had intention of draggin’ this series out indefinitely. Mostly cause I could. Who would stop me? You? That's a laugh! So many mini episode happened, I could seriously make it into a tv series. If I knew how to do that. However, recent developments have changed my mind. One, I’m tired of it. God, so tired of writin’ abot it. Two, the details are startin’ to escape me. Sure, I could pull a few stretchers. And you would never know, bein’ the stupid heads you are. But, the Juice is certainly ain’t about the lyin’. The biggest reason to end this travesty is my most recent vacation to the New Jersey shore. Talk about a travesty! I really want to get into it while the bile is fresh in the mind. And I figured that my weak minded readers would only confuse the two different vacation stories. Which brings us to the end of Tales of the Vacation. But, as they say, nothin’s ever dead. I might pull a George Lucas on ya, and go back and add more shit later. And not even tell ya. Who’s to say I haven’t already, ya stupid fucks? You could be missin’ out on some serious funny shit. But, you just sit there and keep on rotatin’ on your thumbs.

Up next: My assault on the New Jersey coastline begins!!!!!