Operation: Phuck Fil

Four years ago tonight, I participated in one of the greatest 12 hour road trips known to man.  But more on this later.
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As most of you, I love my mom.  When I was moving, she already had so much shit for my new place that I honestly did not buy any utensils, pots/pans, towels, sheets, etc.  Some things I am the proud owner of: ice cream scooper, cheese grater, two grilling tongs (no grill though), 4 coffee mugs (don't drink coffee or tea), a cooler, 4 folding chairs, and a squeegee.  For the record, the other things were just filler until I got to the main point, the squeegee.

Apparently the squeegee is to use in the bathroom after I shower (and dodge the nail gun that is my shower head) to get all the water off the shower curtain and walls to reduce the likelihood of mold or other nasty things.  Well it sat in my shower for weeks.  Still had the tag attached to it three weeks after I moved.  Then one day I decided to give it a try.  And let me tell you, my mom is a fucking genius.

I could give a shit if it stops mold or whatever, but it makes me feel like I'm harnessed up and swinging from some giant building, just cleaning those windows.  And after two weeks, I am superbly skilled with my squeegee.  Left handed, right handed, axe handle, behind the back.  All the moves are in play.  I feel like I could stand on the corner of 35th and Western and clean windshields with the best Chicago has to offer.  I won't even mention the Big Steve because the bums here do nothing but hold signs.  At least be productive. 

It's gotten to the point that using the squeegee is part of my routine: stand under the hot water for 6 minutes, open the curtain and flex in the mirror, wash hair, flex again, wash my body, flex, shampoo again (seriously), then squeegee the wall.  Sometimes I even attempt to squeege the curtain as well.  This is a lot tougher since I need to attempt to use my off hand as a backboard behind the curtain, but its still fun. 

Who would have thought that the first sentence of this story would be "I love my mom" and it would end up being a story about me showering.
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The greatest 12 hour road trip began at roughly 10pm on February 2007.  It was cold, but not snowing.  Three friends and I decided to check something off the bucket list: setting foot on Gobbler's Knob.  We set out from Akron heading east towards our destination Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, aka the mecca of Groundhog Day.  Exactly 17 minutes after we left, we had to stop on the side of I-80 to piss.  It was going to be a long night. 
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I went and got my first Texas haircut tonight.  I'm not picky when it comes to my hair.  I don't need a fancy salon place.  When the person asks me how I want my hair, I just tell them "shorter."  So after following the advice of two co-workers, I had settled on Floyd's Barbershop.  The weird part is that it's actual a semi-national chain.  They even have locations in Chicago (northside though, so I never came close to them).  Not what I was used to, but went for it. 

I called ahead and asked how long the wait would be and was told 15 minutes.  I got there 20 minutes later, signed in, read a paragraph of the newspaper and then it was my turn.  Pretty impressed with the lack of a wait, not so impressed with the estimating skills of the girl who answered the phone. 

So once I get my hair did, the lady mentioned that the hot towel was up next.  She then wrapped a pretty fucking hot towel around my neck and covered my face.  And then she kept it there.  For at least a minute.  Now being new to this, I didn't know if she was waiting for me to do anything at this point (walk around like a mummy was the only thing that came to mind), but I just sat there.  And so she kept the towel on me, even as the boiling water ran down my neck.  I can only imagine what I looked like, sitting there with some big ass towel draped over my face, not moving.  Just a strange situation for me.  I mean, it was awesome, but still strange.

I've always been a proponent for the hot shaving cream and straight edge shave on the back of the neck and Floyd's did not disappoint.  The perfect ending to a haircut: heated foam and cold steel on my neck. 
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Before I say anything else about the trip, know this: our driver was stone cold sober.  He actually had to work the next morning at like 9am so he had to stay sober to get us all home.  With that being said, the backseat of his Chevy Cobalt was packed with three things: myself, an old friend, and my other friend Jeff.  The old friend in question was beer, just to make that clear.  Three and a half hours, probably 6 piss breaks and one restroom incident that I won't even get into, we had made it to Punxsutawney.  For the brain dead, Punxsutawney is where they make a HUGE deal about the groundhog coming out and seeing his shadow or not.  The other 364 days of the year, I'm sure this town blows. 

Our directions were just to the city itself, since we didn't really know exactly the festivities were actually held.  It must have been 2 a.m. by the time we pulled into the Walmart parking lot in Punxsutawney
 

Can't see a damn thing

Everyone boarded a bus and headed up to Gobbler's Knob, which must be the worst name those early settlers could have come up with.  After a fifteen minute drive we reached the summit.  Exiting the bus, we had no idea what to expect....  Well the place was packed with an easy 30,000 people.  At this point, the sun is beginning to come up so we moved as close to the stage as possible.  Along the way, we even got a picture with a man dressed as Tigger from Winnie the Pooh.  We were still so far away that I couldn't even tell what was going on.  They took that damn groundhog out, aptly named Punxsutawney Phil, and he either saw his shadow or he didn't.  I really have no idea what happened.  The whole thing was over within 15 minutes.  We ran back to the buses and rode back down to the Walmart parking lot.  

I slept the entire way home.  My roommate, who had to work later on that morning, drove us home.  The entire trip lasted no more than 12 hours.  The whole time we actually saw the damn groundhog was no more than 5 minutes.  Yet this trip might have been the epitome of my college career.  I will never forget those 12 hours (except for the ride home, I was knocked the fuck out). 

We tried to relive the glory again the next year too.  We had three core members from the first trip and took another friend with us.  This time is was freezing, snowing, and windy as fuck.  We again arrived at the Walmart lot but it just wasn't the same.  We turned around and just drove home.  It wasn't meant to be.  I'll never forget that first Groundhog Day and appropriately named Operation: Phuck Fil.  

on the Knob

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