5 People, 1 Prius: The Journey to Crozet

5 city-worn children of the 90s set out one Saturday morning to escape their urban confines for the serenity of swimming holes and reconnection with themselve and each other.

If this weekend were a movie, the voice over at the beginning of the trailer would sound something like that. For the purpose of attending Tyler's party at his new apartment outside Charlottesville, Sam, Stacy, Kail, Jenna and I packed our bags (except for Sam) and took off for the country. With no hangovers encumbering our travels, we met at 8:00 at my place at for coffee and confessions. It was a cozy ride down, with Jenna, Kail and I sharing the back seat, but we were kept comfortable by visualizations of Kail's poop bucket. As we shared diet red bull, water and pistachios outside of a Culpepper gas station, and visions of Werthers Originals danced in our heads, we knew this day was off to a good start. Fuelled by Bel Air and memories of hiking trips of yore, we found our way to Blue Hole, by way of Puppy Run Farm (just picture a place where puppies are in charge ~ lititle golden labs in overalls and hats, with clip boards and pencils...). Swimming hole #1 brought us fish, slippery rocks, zombie baby jokes (cause they're ok), and the cutest tow headed kid ever. Swimming hole #2 brought us 70s spanish book era Jenna, a much longer hike than we were lead to believe, a really creepy place to swim, rock jumping, and enough baracuda jokes to sink a ship (a pirate ship?). By the time we dried off, Kail's shoes served a purpose again, and Jenna's toe had stopped bleeding, we were off to the corner for Baja Bean, with the newest member of our clan - Stick!

As we sat down to dinner, ordered drinks and checked voicemail, Kail revealed that today was his birthday. Hours of fun together, and only then did he reveal that we had something to celebrate. Our awesome waitress brought him a blow job shot to celebrate. Note: whipped cream, kaluah and enchilladas don't really sit well together. About that time, I called Beth to tell her I'd had Bel Air and Baja Bean in the same day, and she reminded me that she had just finished graduation. OH CRAP! CONGRATULATIONS BETH ANNE!!!!! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!!!!! Moving on. As Tyler still hadn't gone to get his mattress, we set off to get some googly eyes for Stick, something matching for our little clan to wear at the party, and beer. 5 40s of O.E., 2 cases of Miller Lite, 2 packages of Werthers, 8 foam visors, 1 tube of superglue, 22 googley eyes, 1 deck of cards and a miniature cowboy outfit later, we were on our way to Greenwood.

Tyler's apartment is incredible. It's above an old antique store, and it is HUGE. Stacy and Jenna enjoyed the setting as a dance space while some of us showered and cracked our 40s. We played ass hole and beer pong. We laughed and cried. We danced and Jenna sang. We gave warnings about bed sharing. Stick sunbathed. No one at the party gave us shit for dressing a stick up like a cowboy. It was a night to be remembered. And, as any night to be remembered should be, we topped it off with a trip to Bodos, piled back into the Prius, played lots of good songs, took a couple "i think i'm gonna puke" pit stops, ate slim jims and pop rocks, played with kittens, and got back to where we started: my living room.