For reasons that we no longer remember, Wanye, the OilersNinja and a guy we will call the Dutch Bastard from parts unknown (DBPU) decided to load up the OilersNation Bang Bus™ and head for the warm shores of California.
To add an extra level of difficulty we have also brought a 100-pound Rottweiler named Eddie on the trip, which MapQuest assures us will only take 26 hours if we don’t stop. So stop we shall not—not even for a moment—until we reach the gilded shores of Newport Beach.
Twenty-four Java Rockstars and nine hours later we find ourselves in Montana in the midst of one hell of a foggy night.
Q: Ever try and find an open gas station in Helena, Montana in the middle of the night?
A: We have. It’s a friggin’ needle in a haystack. It’s a ghost town down here.
Q: Ever play ass-puff investigation unit?
A: We have. The suspect list is down to DBPU and Eddie. One of the two has some real digestive issues most likely requiring serious medical care.
We’re going to watch Ducks and Lakers games. We’re going to get into some of these Celebrity Clubs and try and land some Z-List Celebrity Ass.
And dammit, Nation, you are coming with us.
Seriously Eddie, what have you been eating?
It seems like we are the only vehicle on the road. None in our merry group of four have slept yet despite the fact there has been little to see beyond dark-ass nothingness for hours.
We’ve taken to calling Eddie “Puff Daddy” due to his gaseous and digestive tendencies. This dog has stood in the back of the truck for over 15 hours—a singular feat of strength no human would have a sniff at replicating.
The vet suggested we sedate him before the US border, so we wrapped a dog sleeping pill in delicious beef jerky. Canine Puff Daddy ate it in one gulp and the thing didn’t so much as faze him in the slightest. If the Oil were 1/1000th as tough as this dog they would be the toughest team in the history of sports.
Hour 17: The twilight zone
We have stopped to get gas in Idaho Falls at a McDonalds gas station that also sells liquor. Don’t believe us? Here is a picture of the beer cooler under the McDs sign.
“We don’t supply the gas, sir, we just take payments,” we’re told by the chick at the counter.
Listen, Trixie, the fact we can get six Bud Lights, a tank of gas and a Big Mac meal combo all on the same bill blows our brain bananas. The fact you pay for it all at the McDonalds counter? Mind shattering. What will they think of next?
Enjoy your sleep, Nation. We haven’t.