The, uhm, I can't remember which move this was? Seven? Eight? Twelve?
What do you get…when you mix a bed full of luggage…
With hours of pouring down rain?
(Like, the type of rain that comes in sheets. The type that not even your highest wiper setting can wipe it away in time, leaving a permanent blur on the windshield.)
Oh me! Me! Me! I know!! I know! Pick me!
[Waving my hand obnoxiously back and forth like Hermione Granger]
*Eh hem,* soaking wet luggage, that's what.
Oh come on!!!
However, the silver lining: I'm alive. And only got road rage twice. But not the finger kind of road rage. Because that's not ladylike. And I'm a lady. It was more like the how in the world did you get your driver's license paired with I bet you're not as rude in real life but for some reason, your car makes you a bighuge jerk kind of rage. Also, I got to see Adam finally. Which is worth just about every yawn, every screaming loud song, and every last sunflower seed I had to munch on to stay awake. My lips hurt now. From the salt, people!
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