It's the Pickles!

We were young, stupid, and invincible. The advenures we shared could easily make an epic action comedy movie. A lot of details of the following post have been left out intentionally to protect the innocent and unknowing.

It started out as any other Friday night in Jacksonville. Ross was in the back seat and you riding shotgun in the "RockWagon", probably the funkiest smelling Ford Escort station wagon on the road. It had a nice lingering odor of stale pizza and alcohol. We had our cooler filled with ice and beer, both of which we always had plenty of. Funds however always seemed a little tight. We cruised the beach for a while looking for some women to party with. Finding nothing interesting we decided to head over to the Jacksonville to the State Fair.

We were parked on what I remember as a grass embankment next to an off ramp with dozens of other cars. We wandered into the fair half drunk and hungry. Ross decided to head off on his own to find a liquor store and some "entertainment" and we hit the ring toss tent. Looking back on it the goldfish we won and ate didn't really count as sushi but at the time they made nice snacks. Most of the fair itself is a blur. We lost Ross but found a couple of young ladies looking to party and have some fun. We took them back to the Rockwagon for some drinking, a little romance, and a standing ovation from the guys in the truck next to us. Apparently we put on quite the show in that make shift parking lot. We exchanged numbers with the girls and began our search for Ross. It was late, we were drunk and out of money. It made sense to us at the time to drive 6 hours to my credit union to get some cash and continue to enjoy the long weekend. We found Ross staggering towards the car and loaded him into the back seat and headed west, to Pensacola.
After about 5 minutes of driving I pulled over and we decided you would drive because you felt fine and I would take a little nap. Ross was passed out drooling on himself in the backseat. I woke up from my nap and we were pulled over off of the side of the highway and the sun was just coming up. I woke you up and asked how far we had gotten before you pulled over. "Gosh Duke I drove for hours we must be almost there." was your groggy reply. We swapped seats and pulled back out onto the highway. 5 minutes later we passed a sign, Now Leaving Jacksonville City Limits. You hadn't driven more than 10 minutes at most before pulling over.

Once we hit Pensacola the first stop was the ATM at my credit union. The second stop was a liquor store where we picked up rum, vodka, ice and Hawaiian Punch. We mixed it all together in a Styrofoam cooler and drove across the bridge to Pensacola Beach. Ross woke up once we got to the beach and joined us sitting it the sand admiring the sights and enjoying the cool water. We kept dipping plastic cups in the cooler to enjoy our "beach punch" and maintain our buzz. While we were Wading in the surf cooling off this guy comes up and starts complimenting you on your hair and how in shape we all are. That was my queue to bail out and get back to the cooler for another drink. I left you stranded with this guy that wanted to be "special" friends with you. It took him a few minutes to realize that you were straight and not interested in experimenting. You angrily rejoined Ross and I at the cooler and couldnt believe we abandoned you like that. You ranted and raved and drank for a good 15 minutes, then you calmed down and drank more. You and Ross decided that since I owned the car I should be the one to drive so the two of you finished off the contents of the cooler and we loaded ourselves back into the car.

After crossing Pensacola Beach Bridge it occurred to us that in the past 48 hours the only thing we had to eat were a couple of goldfish. We stopped at a Wendy's just past the bridge to sober up some more and have something other than snacks from an aquarium to eat. The Thundercats were all the rage at that time and Wendy's had a kids meal that was the Thundercats meal pack. You ordered one and when the young lady at the register laughingly handed it over you dumped the contents of it out on the counter and ran to the salad bar. Staring in disbelief I watched as you stole a full crock of potato salad and a full crock of pickles and poured them into the Thundercat Meal Pack box. You ran out of there giggling and stuffing handfuls of potato salad into your mouth. Once Ross and I caught up to you at the car you had eaten all of the potato salad and every last pickle wedge. We beat a quick retreat and decided we had worn out our welcome in Pensacola so we set our sights on Jacksonville.

Being low on fuel and needing something other than alcohol to drink I pulled into a gas station to fill up. The whole time I was pumping gas you were complaining about how you felt like you were going to puke. You promised over and over again that you wouldn’t puke in the car. You headed for the men’s room and jammed finger down your throat with no success. Ross and I stuck you in the back seat and began our way east on I10. Traffic was light and Ross and I kept an eye on you laughing the whole time because you had this line of drool hanging out of your mouth that was atleast 6 inches long. Every time you moved your head it swung like some ectoplasmic pendulum.

I was in the left hand lane coming up quickly on a conversion van that looked like it was straight out of the '70's. I switched lanes to the right and was watching my side view mirror so I could switch back again when your head popped out of the window. You began yelling "It's the pickles Duke, It's the pickles!" and then you puked straight into the open passenger window of the van as I passed it and all down the side of my car.

We've had many adventures, drunken and sober, but none are as memorable as hearing you yell "It's the pickles Duke, It's the pickles!"