Jeff and I are both extremely impulsive and we both love to travel, so when you put the two of us together in one place, we're fucking gone in no time. Like that one time when I was 18 and Jeff was 20. It started out with me driving over to Jeff's house just to hang out or maybe go to a movie or something. Then I think it went something like this...
(Columbus, Ohio)
Jeff: You wanna go to Indianapolis or something?
Ryan: OK, why not.
(Indianapolis, Indiana)
Jeff: You wanna go to Bloomington or something?
Ryan: OK, why not.
(Bloomington, Indiana)
Jeff: You wanna like go that way (west)?
Ryan: OK, why not.
Somewhere between Bloomington and St. Louis, we knew it was on. We were past the point of no return. We ended up going to Six Flags Mid America in St. Louis and Six Flags Great America in Chicago. We didn't have any changes of clothes or anything, so I remember buying a "St. Louis" t-shirt somewhere near Six Flags.
Oh yeah, and we didn't tell anyone what we were doing or where we were. So when we returned, about five days later, I found out that I was reported missing.
When looking at the travel lines on the map, keep in mind that Jeff and I have lived thousands of miles from each other for most of the last 12 or 13 years. (When did you move to Vegas, Jeff?)
I moved to Vegas in January 1997, at which point Jeff and I were roommates for a year. It wasn't too long after that when Jeff moved to Ogden, Utah, then Yucaipa, California. Then I moved back to Ohio in November 2000. So the year and a half when we both lived in Vegas is the only time we've lived closer than a few hundred miles from each other since about 1995. (And we weren't on speaking terms for a while after our apartment lease ended.)
Ah yeah, you gotta hear the other stories.
Aimless
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