With Collins behind the wheel, Mark in the passenger's seat, and Mimi and Roger in the back, the gang set off on their trip. Mark unfolded a large map of the United States, which took up most of the dashboard.
"Everyone, quick. Name some place you wanna see."
"Chicago."
"Washington D.C."
"Roge, what about you?" Mark prompted.
"Uh, maybe Cincinnati."
"Cool... but why?" asked Mimi.
"I dunno. Hear there are some good music schools in Cincinnati. I'd just like to see them." Mark looked at the giant map, and began to plan out a route.
"Go to D.C. first. It's closest."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Collins stepped on the gas and pulled away from the curb, as they waved goodbye to the loft.
In the back seat, Roger put on his headphones and turned up the CD player volume as loud as it would go. He rested his head on the window, and fell asleep until Mimi poked him in the side.
"What?"
"I gotta ask you something. You said you've never left New York... What about Santa Fe?"
"I never went."
"What?"
"I never went. I bought a car, packed a suitcase, went through the trouble of buying postcards that said 'Greetings from Santa Fe' on them, but I never actually got there."
"Where did you go?" asked Mark.
"Your house. I stayed at your old place back in Scarsdale, and asked your mom not to say anything to you about it. Figured she probably told you by now, anyway."
"Nope."
"Then why did I tell you that?" He looked around at them all, then faced the window and closed his eyes. Mimi sighed.
"I hate it when he does that."
Hours later, they found themselves in a traffic jam.
"Where the hell are we?"
"Gee, Mark, you were supposed to be the navigator, shouldn't you know?"
"I never said anything about being the navigator..."
"It's assumed that when you sit in the passenger's seat, and you have the map, that you're going to be the navigator."
"Where did you learn that, Collins?"
"Everyone knows that." At which point, Roger thought it might be a good idea to lead them all in a rousing chorus of "Ninety-nine bottles".
"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall! Ninety-nine bottles of beer! Take one down, pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall! Question, who puts beer on a wall?"
"How 'bout we don't sing anymore," suggested a tired-looking Mimi.
"You're right! Time for the license plate game!" Roger peered out the window. "There's a Kentucky license plate! Beat that!" he laughed. And thus began the license plate game competition...
A/N: I'm trying to balance out the sad and the funny in this story. I know the title sounds funny, but it's actually not supposed to be... because they left New York in the fall (September) and some people are going to return in the fall. But I'm not saying who...you'll have to keep reading to find out!! Question: Where else do you think they should stop in the Eastern U.S.?
"Everyone, quick. Name some place you wanna see."
"Chicago."
"Washington D.C."
"Roge, what about you?" Mark prompted.
"Uh, maybe Cincinnati."
"Cool... but why?" asked Mimi.
"I dunno. Hear there are some good music schools in Cincinnati. I'd just like to see them." Mark looked at the giant map, and began to plan out a route.
"Go to D.C. first. It's closest."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Collins stepped on the gas and pulled away from the curb, as they waved goodbye to the loft.
In the back seat, Roger put on his headphones and turned up the CD player volume as loud as it would go. He rested his head on the window, and fell asleep until Mimi poked him in the side.
"What?"
"I gotta ask you something. You said you've never left New York... What about Santa Fe?"
"I never went."
"What?"
"I never went. I bought a car, packed a suitcase, went through the trouble of buying postcards that said 'Greetings from Santa Fe' on them, but I never actually got there."
"Where did you go?" asked Mark.
"Your house. I stayed at your old place back in Scarsdale, and asked your mom not to say anything to you about it. Figured she probably told you by now, anyway."
"Nope."
"Then why did I tell you that?" He looked around at them all, then faced the window and closed his eyes. Mimi sighed.
"I hate it when he does that."
Hours later, they found themselves in a traffic jam.
"Where the hell are we?"
"Gee, Mark, you were supposed to be the navigator, shouldn't you know?"
"I never said anything about being the navigator..."
"It's assumed that when you sit in the passenger's seat, and you have the map, that you're going to be the navigator."
"Where did you learn that, Collins?"
"Everyone knows that." At which point, Roger thought it might be a good idea to lead them all in a rousing chorus of "Ninety-nine bottles".
"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall! Ninety-nine bottles of beer! Take one down, pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall! Question, who puts beer on a wall?"
"How 'bout we don't sing anymore," suggested a tired-looking Mimi.
"You're right! Time for the license plate game!" Roger peered out the window. "There's a Kentucky license plate! Beat that!" he laughed. And thus began the license plate game competition...
A/N: I'm trying to balance out the sad and the funny in this story. I know the title sounds funny, but it's actually not supposed to be... because they left New York in the fall (September) and some people are going to return in the fall. But I'm not saying who...you'll have to keep reading to find out!! Question: Where else do you think they should stop in the Eastern U.S.?