The reason I hesitated to tell this as a long, detailed story has arrived. At this point, my adventure is over; it's all chit-chatting, being surprised that the prices in the Pro Shop were reasonable, being warm, being tired, and eating from here. Nothing complicated and nothing really exciting.
All the adventure was now Moppy's job.
It seems awkward to tell Moppy's story at this point. I was only there for it and he had to live it. I don't think he'll mind but it's not the same as telling my story. So we'll just briefly cover it. Going into this, please note that we were all very sober, tired maybe, but very sober. All the 'Lucy Ricardo' that Moppy inherited from his late mother kicked in at this point.
The Pro Shop was warm. Moppy had spent the last three hours or so somewhat chilled. He quickly overheated and lost his balance once or twice.
While we jockeyed for position on the still-crowded highways, Moppy managed to lose his phone under the car seat before him. He couldn't find it, even with me calling it.
When we got out of the car to eat, he was able to retrieve his phone, but painfully caught the middle finger of his right hand in the door while closing it.
After eating, we all dozed off in the car to some degree, apart from the driver of course. Moppy woke up to the buffalo chicken wings he'd eaten disagreeing with him. We quickly pulled over so that he could have a 'food escape'.
Poor fella.
After that the drama was over. We all went to our seperate homes expecting to fall asleep immediately but were too wired to do so. Watched Jeff Dunham on Comedy Central instead, much like a good chunk of the populace. Quick review: Thumbs up!
On a totally unrelated note: I think I have part of a movie scene in my head. Must dash.
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