Britta drove for another three hours before she told Troy to drive for a few hours before she passed out. Abed sat in the passenger's seat to allow Britta to lay on the car seats. "Okay", Abed said to Troy only twenty or thirty minutes into the drive, "truth or dare?"
"Ah—truth!" Troy smiled and stated cheerfully.
"Which person in the study group would you date?"
"Uh", Troy said apprehensively, "pass", he said curtly.
"You can't pass", Abed said rather bluntly, "I didn't pass when you dared me to eat the bird poo from the windshield."
"I didn't dare you to do that"—Troy paused—"I dared you to—ship!" Troy yelled his eyes wide as he stopped the car.
"Troy, how long are you going to stay in your little fantasy world?" Britta muttered on the seat with her eyes still closed.
"No look!" Troy shouted, pointing forward, "A giant ship!"
Britta sat up, while rubbing her eyes, and asked, "Where?"
"There!" Troy yelled, still pointing to the ship on its side in the middle of the road.
"Now, what the hell is a boat doing in the center of the road?" Britta asked, holding onto the door handle, then hastily opened and stepped out.
"Obviously they got shipwrecked here", Abed said dryly, as he got out of the car too. Britta put her sunglasses on as she walked towards the faded red and white ship, which was blocking the road. It was an old and medium sized boat, although it wasn't damaged, but it had dried barnacles on the bottom, which you could tell that it had been used for almost ten years. The name was boldly painted on the side in black paint, 'The Flying Dutchman'.
"Oh, what a creative name", Britta said sarcastically then said in an exaggerated high-pitched voice while waving her arms around, "Oh I'm a captain on 'The Flying Dutchman' and I think I'm so cool because I named my boat 'The Flying Dutchman'"—Britta then started doing a hoe down while singing in an old Southern voice—"I'm a boat captain! I'm a boat captain! Watch out everybody I'm a boat captain!"
"Okay Britta", Troy said to her, holding out his hand to calm her down, "we get it, you're a boat captain—but settle down before you become a boat captain in a padded room."
Abed gently stroked the bottom of the ship, "It's been here for only a couple hours. The barnacles are still somewhat wet", he rubbed his fingers together and then smelled his fingers, "and the smell is still very excessive."
"No shit, Sherlock", Britta cynically said to Abed, "but that doesn't help us at all", Britta strolled over to the other side of the boat to study it. "I don't see anything over here", Britta shouted to Troy and Abed. "What the hell is a boat doing here?" Britta muttered to herself again as she shook her head in confusion. She sighed, placed her hands on her hips, and surveyed the land around the boat.
They were in Nevada, a few hours outside of Las Vegas, she surmised, along Route 93, in the middle of nowhere. It was a bit windy, which caused Britta to constantly pat and tucking her hair behind her ears. Britta felt so small; the desert was too big, too much space, and too empty.
"Britta", a voice behind Britta said softly, startling her, "I think we should just drive around the boat and get back on the road", Troy said.
"Hm", Britta muttered, not looking at Troy, but at the landscape, "I'm surprised you and Abed don't want to find out why the boat is here."
"Ah, well, we both think that Comic-Con is more important and interesting than a boat in the middle of the road", Troy said softly while wandering along the side of the boat.
Britta gazed at Troy before lightly slapping her thighs and walking back towards the car. "We'll have to drive right there", Britta said, pointing alongside the dip in the road and the vegetation, "and then just get back on the road after that." They all got back into the car as Troy drove towards the boat, slowly and carefully. "Careful, careful", Britta said, leaning on the driver's seat, her breath on Troy's neck.
"If you keep breathing on my neck, I won't be able to", Troy thought, getting goosebumps. He slowed down as he went down the small hill of the highway and edged around the boat, then he sped up, only slightly, up the hill and back on the road.
"Great", Britta said, leaning back in the seat while Troy sped up and continued to drive, "I'm going back to sleep", she laid back down on the seat, "wake me up when we run into a plane on the road."