Travelling Woes

My family had just spent a week at the beach with the Purvises, old family friends of ours. I was already packed up and ready to go, but I needed to get a shower. The shower in my room wasn't working, so my parents told me to use the one in their room.

Unfortunately, my little sister Laura wanted to use it as well. She began to attack me, clawing at my face and screaming. As we fought, I noticed something sticking out of her nose.

"It's spiders," she informed. "I stuck them in my ears too. Now you have to feel bad for me and let me use the shower."

Knowing that it was the spiders making her violent, I started to fight harder, desperate to pry the creatures from her head. Unfortunately, each time I grabbed one of their legs, it came off, making them even more difficult to remove.

Eventually my parents became angry with us for making them late. Laura expelled the spiders from her head and we got on the road.

The Purvises contacted us over walkie-talkie to ask if we wanted to stop for dinner. They were nearly 80 miles ahead of us, so we asked if they wanted to meet us halfway. Eventually it was decided that they would stop and we would continue on until we caught up with them before eating.

On the way home, my family was visited by several ghosts, the most prominent of which was Justin Timberlake. I suddenly found myself to be a young girl, and was starstruck. He told us to believe in ourselves, and we thanked him.

My parents did not like the ghosts, however, and begged us to turn our backs on them. I was irritated because they had given us a bunch of superfluous Twitter accounts to read, so I agreed.

When I got home by apartment was in disarray. I had hosted a party just before leaving and not had time to clean up. Remembering that my mother was coming by later, I moved quickly around my apartment, gathering dishes and loading them in the dishwasher, and picking up trash.

Unfortunately, I discovered that a lot of my very heavy furniture had been moved. As I tried to decide whether or not I could return my big screen TV to its rightful place, my kitchen table lifted up and began to fly toward the entertainment center. Concerned that the legs would crash through the wall, I begged the ghosts to remove them. They chose instead to place the table in its correct spot.

I knew I was not supposed to be communing with the ghosts, but I needed the help.

Next they lifted my TV. I asked them to wait, as I needed to run the correct wires through the back of the entertainment center. I fumbled with the wires and eventually decided to remove the PS2 entirely. It wasn't mine, and I never used it, so I tossed it aside.

My mother arrived and got mad at me for accepting help from the ghosts. She took me outside, to a place where seven feet of snow had fallen. As we stood buried in the snow drifts, she showed me again the myriad Twitter accounts I was supposed to follow. There was an account for Peter's mother, as well as an account where his mother and stepmother tweeted together.

It was ridiculous. However, I still appreciated the help that the ghosts had provided. I did not know how to contact the ghost of Justin Timberlake so I settled on the next best thing: the real Justin Timberlake. I would go to his concert and speak to him in person. I didn't know if he would remember all the things that ghost Justin had told me, but I had to try.

I walked off into the snow. When I reached a place where the ice beneath my feet was thin I began to stomp and scream. My parents came running over just as I crashed through the ice. They agreed to my plan.

We returned to civilization and started off down the expressway. In front of us, a small airplane tumbled across the road, landing on a low bridge. As we drove under the bridge I saw that the people whose cars were under the plane were safe, and I was relieved.

On our right was a bu that had been run clean through with and airplane. Airplanes continued to tumble across the road, as though they had been trying to take off and had then died. Each time they were closer to our car.

"We're not planning on flying anywhere, are we?" I asked, concerned that we might be going to Paris.

My father assured me that we were not.

As we continued on, an airborne plane came flying down towards us. My father swerved, but it swerved to match us. Only at the last minute were we able to jerk out of it's way. We were all relieved until my sister screamed.

"Look ahead, there's a tunnel!"

Sure enough, we were headed straight into a very long tunnel. I was terrified, knowing we would not be able to avoid airplanes we could not see.

My father floored it, and we flew through the tunnel. Planes had torn huge holes in the ceiling, and they continued to glance off the top, causing debris to fall. It was a tense time, but we made it out of the tunnel in one piece.

We continued on, and soon came to the Highway 280 bridge, which stretched over the Highway 280 river, which ran alongside Highway 280. Fear enveloped me once again, as I knew if a plane hit the bridge that we were surely going to die.

Dad floored it again, and we sped through the bridge. Unfortunately, the bridge had multiple small sections along its length that were like drawbridges and could be raised up. One opened in front of our car.

"Should we try to jump it?" my father asked. As if in response, the car in front of us attempted to jump across. It missed by a long shot and plummeted down into the river below. Dad hit the brakes and we stopped just in time.

When the sides of that section went back down we continued on, stopping every so often for another gap. Soon we could see the end of the bridge, and the final gap was just closing in front of us. Dad sped up even faster. We were going to make it.

Unfortunately, a gear in the gate mechanism caught, and the gap did not close all the way. Our car plummeted down, and we landed in a huge cave filled with various industrial materials. Thankful that we had survived, my Dad sped on, certain that there would be a way out ahead.

I woke up in Peter's sister Stacey's apartment. She had been cutting my hair the night before*, and I had fallen asleep there. Dazed, I told her about my strange dream.

"I don't think there even is a Highway 280 in this area," I mused.

I woke up.

*Stacey did actually cut my hair last night. I did not fall asleep in her apartment.