Delaware - Part III

People,

I know many of you are probably thinking to yourselves "Does this moron really think that this Delaware story is interesting enough to merit three entries?" And the answer to that question is a definite no, but it's been slow in Joe world so cut me a break.

Anyway, when I left off, Jordan and Gordon were off being rockstars, tripping the light fantastic all over Dewey Beach, while Pete and I ate Combos and tried to stay awake. We watched a good two hours of the Discovery Channel and played a couple of games of Yahtzee.....oh hell, who am I kidding?... we actually snorted coke off the stomachs of expensive hookers and passed out in our own filth.

Finally J and G returned to the hotel room. That's right, room. Even with the amount of recent success FXA has had we still stay in one hotel room with two beds. Those familiar with the journal know that I prefer to sleep with Gordon because he is quiet and remarkably non-fidgety. Second to Gordon I like to sleep with Jordan because he is handsome....er...I mean, doesn't snore. My least favorite bed partner is Pete.

Pete is a weird guy. A great guy, but a weird guy. He does very few things like any other human I have ever known. Usually he does things differently because he thinks he's figured out a better way to do them, and usually he's right. But I think he may have to check his math on his sleeping technique. He wears a huge sleep mask that has enormous bug eyes on the front and wears industrial strength earplugs. Combine those two and you get petezilla the sleepmonster. When Pete sleeps, he goes into his own world and it is pretty frigging hard to get him out of it. And usually that's OK, he generally sticks to his side of the bed, but he's fidgety and unresponsive to everything. Give Pete a poke when he's snoring? No response.

So you know where this is going. That night I drew Pete as a bed partner. After he had suited up in his various bedtime fetish wear, he took a sleeping pill to help him doze and we climbed in and hit the lights. Everything was fine and we both drifted off, me into dreamland, Pete into a drug induced homoerotic fantasy land. About an hour into my beauty rest I feel Pete's legs tuck in behind me in a classic spoon. In his stupor, 12-G seemed to think I was his fiance which, I assure you, I am not. I pushed him away and tried to scold him, but he was unreachable. All I could do was look into the enormous creepy fucking eyes on the mask and wish a stroke upon him. This spooning kept happening throughout the night, until I was essentially sleeping half on/half off the bed to avoid the snugglemaster. Damn.

Finally, it was morning and I greeted the very groggy Pete with the question "What the hell was that all about?" He of course had no idea what I was talking about, but did assure me that it was lucky I got snuggled when I did because at present he was in the throes of fierce morning wood. Damn.

That's life on the road folks. Don't all sign up at once.