How to Survive a Road Trip

         Since the title of my blog is AdventureChris I thought that I would start posting some adventure posts. So I have decided to do a weekly “ How to Survive” post, in which I give advice on how to survive various situations involving travel and adventure. Now, these posts are not intended to be humorous so please refrain from laughing.

How to Survive the Road Trip

In 5 Easy Steps

Step 1: Bring snacks.

           

Sure deep fried chicken wings, greasy cheeseburgers and super stuffed-grande-burritos are delicious but let’s face it, you’re going to be sitting in a car for hours and even days and there’s not much room for physical activity. Although, you could make “fit-pit” stops as I like to call them. A fit-pit stop is pulling over at a rest stop or safe location (not the side of the highway) and getting in a quick ten to fifteen minute workout. It should be enough to stretch the muscles, burn some calories and get the blood flowing. This sounds like a good idea but if you’re like me and sweat like a turkey on thanksgiving, no one will appreciate your “aroma” in the car; especially driving through the desert. If you have room in your vehicle pack a cooler with healthy snacks that won’t perish too fast, such as sandwiches without mayo trail mix or beef jerky and granola bars. Make sure to bring plenty of water too. Do yourself a favor and save some time and save your waistline.

Step 2: Sleep.

            So there I was, miles above the Earth’s surface traveling at mach 2 speeds in my F22 stealth fighter. Enemy bogies were fixed on my location and coming in hot! The enemy fighter plane at my six had achieved radar lock and fired one of its missiles. I had no time to think and instinct kicked in. I pointed the nose of my jet straight down and barrel rolled careening towards the mountain range below, when suddenly, a semi-truck appeared directly in front of me! What was a semi-truck doing in the sky? I thought to myself. Oh that’s right, I’m driving in my car so this must be a dream. I shouldn't be sleeping, I should be driving! This terrifying Top-Gun tale was meant to stress the importance of planning rest stops on your trip. Call ahead and book reservations at hotels and lodges along the way. If you feel sleepy while driving, pull over and let someone else man the helm for a while. Even professional truckers aren’t supposed to drive more than eleven hours in one day. Be smart and get ample sleep.

Step 3: Music. Lots of it.

           

       I once spent over ten hours in a car on a road-trip listening to the ENTIRE ( not by choice) Sherlock Holmes Mystery series on audio-book. When we arrived at our destination I found myself unknowingly speaking in a British accent for at least two days! Unless your car has satellite radio, good stations get harder and harder to find, especially as you head into more remote areas. Make sure to bring an ample amount of CD’s or update your playlists to be sure that you don’t get bored on the trip. Be sure to keep the music lively and upbeat to help prevent dozing off at the wheel. Also make sure there is at least one loud classic rock mix available for those moments when someone wants to talk about feelings or the funny thing their cat did the other night.

Step 4: Pimp Your Ride.

           

       Everyone has electronic devices, whether it’s an e-reader, a net-book, or a cellphone and we all bring them with us. Consequently these devices need to be charged and most vehicles only have one or two AC outlets. Furthermore, thanks to a particular fruit based company not everyone’s device uses the same charger anymore, thus leaving the option of sharing chargers out. Don’t be the one with the most LTE coverage anywhere in the United States and a dead phone. I’d urge you to pay a visit to your local electronics store and pick up a multi-port/USB car charger. This will ensure that no one feels the shame of getting left out of the electronic “watering-hole”.

Step 5: Roadside Service.

            It’s a good idea to make sure at least one of the people on the trip has emergency roadside service. Sooner or later, if you take enough road trips, eventually you might find yourself stuck on the side of the road, halfway between the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Hills Have Eyes; we all know how those situations turned out…

            Now you should have all the tools you need to have a fun, safe and successful road trip. Happy travels! 

Why I Comedy

    When I was a kid I was very small. I was just a mere fraction of this behemoth of a man that you may have come to know. As almost every man under the height of 5 foot 5 knows, being small comes with a price. That price is usually paid throughout your years in the form of ultimate wedgies, swirlys, stolen lunches and like clockwork getting pummeled by the local bully every Friday at lunchtime. Now, I have not personally experienced this, and I can safely say that I was a very small very skinny kid growing up and I was not bullied. At all. I do not know the experience of having my underwear driven up into my butt-cheeks, nor am I familiar with the sensation of toilet water bustling about my head as I am hung upside down over a toilet bowl. No ladies and gentleman I was not bullied because I had a secret weapon. A very powerful weapon at my disposal that I found when used properly and at the right time would render any bully defenseless. What did I have in my back pocket all those years of being small that made these bullies stop in their tracks? I had comedy.

         I made people laugh, and I was good at it. There was only one time in my life that I remember coming close to being bullied. I was in the sixth grade in the locker room getting changed for physical education class. I remember there was this huge thirty-year old sixth grader Paul, whom most of the school was afraid of. He had close ties to a particular Mexican gang and was known for his violent and destructive behavior. On this day he decided that he would try to pick on the new kid (me) at the school. Halfway through getting my shirt on, Paul walks up behind me and says in his loud boisterous voice, “Hey man! That’s my locker. You’re using my locker.”              

 “Oh yeah?” I say, turning around. “Well, it’s all yours man, oh and I left your mom’s panties in there because she forgot them at my house. I figure you could give them back to her for me.” I moved to the side so he could see the white cotton floral patterned pair of women’s underwear hanging in the locker. Don’t ask me why I had a pair of women’s panties on me at the time, that’s a different story. I just stood there before him silently waiting for the pummeling that was sure to come as everyone burst into laughter around us. But, there was no pummeling. He stared at me in shock for a few seconds and then what he said next surprised even his own goons! “You know what man? You’re alright.” And with a huge pat on the back I became part of his gang. In hindsight maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to join a gang in the sixth grade, but it sure beat the hell out of getting bullied.

          Comedy has always been my way out. It has been there for me in times of sadness and despair, and times of happiness and joy. Comedy has always been my way to connect with people from all walks of life. I am blessed to be able to make a semi-living from my jokes. They say that mathematics is the language of the universe; I disagree. I think that comedy is the language of the universe. You may not be able to prove that black holes exist or string theory is viable but how awesome would it be if you made an alien laugh? If I landed on a planet in a distant galaxy I wouldn’t want to be greeted by a bunch of numbers and flashy lights. No, I want to see a man smash a watermelon with a huge wooden mallet, or hear about the elusive Deerbra. I want to laugh before I eventually destroy your planet and rob it of its resources. Why do you think aliens never abduct scientists, or mathematicians? They always seem to go for the dumbest, most red-neck, completely oblivious people…

Don't Forget to Bring a Towel

They say that hospitals are the most germ infested places in the world. You are more likely to get sick at the hospital than you are at home. I disagree. I say the most disgusting germ infested places in the world are gyms. Gyms harbor some of the most harmful bacteria known to man, carried into them by some of the most vile people in the world. It doesn't matter what kind of gym either; Karate dojos, MMA gyms, Crossfit centers and "Athletic Clubs." Well played Athletic Club on choosing the fancy name. You cant hide from us, we know what you really are. Let me walk you through a typical night in hell, or as I like to call it: 24hour Fitness.

Upon entering the gym my nose is greeted by the pungent aroma of sweat, alcohol and week old taco meat. That's not a racist remark by the way. Next time you're cooking up some delicious tacos on a Tuesday night, take a nice hearty whiff of the meat and tell me I'm wrong.
   I like to do a little warm-up run before I hit the weights, so naturally I make my way upstairs to the cardio section of the gym. It is of course a weeknight so all of the disgruntled white-collar-nine-to-five'ers are taking up all of the treadmills. I keep looking around and finally I spot Bill, from accounting stumbling off of a treadmill. Bill[we'll call him that since I don't know his real name] weighs about five thousand pounds and from what it looks like showers once a week. His treadmill is soaked in sweat. Sweat is dripping from the buttons and the touch screen looks as if it was just rubbed with Crisco. Does Bill wipe the machine down before leaving it so the next person to use it (me) doesn't have to shower in his disgusting filth? Of course not! No, Bill walks away still angry about falling behind on his tps reports that he doesn't give wiping the machine a second thought. After unloading the whole bottle of disinfectant onto the machine I am able to get my run in. Suddenly something unmentionable and horrid worms its way into my nostrils making its way to my taste buds. Gross I can taste it. I look to my left and I am running next to none other than; taco meat guy. Yes, this guy refuses to wear deodorant or brush his teeth. He too showers only once a week. I usually do a two-mile warmup but today I can only stomach about one mile, due to the fact that I have been holding my breath for ten minutes. I can't take it anymore and pound on the stop button bringing the treadmill to a screeching halt. I muster up enough courage and oxygen to go back and wipe my machine down(because I am a good person)
  Finally it is time to hit the weights. I spot an open bench press area and lay my towel down on the bench. Oh yeah, I bring a towel to the gym because I am a respectful and clean human being. I also am not a big fan of lice. Have you ever looked down at a bench that someone was using and seen that familiar sweat spot where their head was just resting? Well take a closer look and you'll more than likely see tiny little white things. Now it could be dandruff, which in that case:gross. It could also be lice. In any case I'm not taking my chances, and I opt for the wipe-down-towel-down. Everything is going fine at this point and I am grinding through my sets without problem. Until little Johnny-never-learned-to-wipe-properly-after-pooping decides to spot his buddy on the bench behind mine. I can smell the corn in his poop, that's how absolutely disgusting he is. How does his buddy not smell him when he's dangling his balls inches above his face? I've got one more set but I cant take it anymore and have to move on. Throughout the course of the night I run into Homeless Pete who likes to sit at the leg press and stare into the distance doing one or two presses every four hours. I meet Blue Jean Sam by the free weights who is unaware that not only are blue jeans inappropriate gym attire but they soak up the sweet smell of ball sweat like nothing else. I also meet a few of Snow White's  missing dwarfs; Sneezy, Drippy, and Coughy. None of them cover their mouths and none of them have napkins or tissues. The whole gym at this point feels like a dirty bathhouse, but smells more like an outhouse, and no one in this gym has a freaking TOWEL!
  I can't take anymore. I have to leave. I stumble past Frank who wears sweatpants to the gym and "forgets" to wear underwear, and burst through the exit doors of the gym. I feel like an escaped slave bursting up from the tunnels of the underground railroad. I feel violated in so many ways and I probably need to schedule an appointment with my doctor for a full work-up.
  Here is a tip. If you stink before going to the gym, please put on deodorant and wipe yourself down with something antibacterial. Don't wear jeans to the gym, cover your mouth when you sneeze, wipe down your machines after you use them, stop screaming, and please, please bring a towel.

I Am Not Smooth

Despite what you may think I am not as smooth as it would appear. Sure I can get on a stage and make a fool of myself telling jokes or acting like a seventeenth century Shakespearean baseball player [its an improv thing] but when it comes to talking to women, I am horrible. I can go from James Bond charming a room of writers and producers, and have them eating out of the palm of my hand, to Gold Bond, medicated cream. Yes, I am aware that reference makes no sense in the analogy, however it does draw an accurate depiction of my skills at conversing with the opposite sex. It's weird and gross leaves you sticky and Shaq endorses it...see what I mean? Lets start from the beginning, and you'll soon see what I am talking about.

THE OPENING: 
 Most people can agree that the best opening for meeting someone is " Hi my name is-" followed by a handshake or fist bump depending on what part of Los Angeles you are in. That part is fine. Where I have trouble is what follows.

THE INTERVIEW: 
" So what do you do?" is one of the most common questions in the dating world. This is where I lose people. When most people hear Comedian, I become a trained monkey, specifically there for the sole purpose of entertaining them and their friends. " Go ahead funny guy, tell me a joke!"
"Make me laugh!"
" Lets hear your set funny guy!"
" Stand on your head! Juggle! Dance monkey DANCE!" which is quickly followed by " Oh my God, you know who's funny? Kevin Hart." That's when its all over. Now for the rest of the night I'm telling  jokes about my checking and savings account and talking about the kids I don't have, and going on about my father's huge penis. The second option I could go with is actor. Their follow up: " So what restaurant do you work at?" Its a losing battle. So obviously my answer is: " What do I do? Oh, I'm a doctor." Win.

THE CONVERSATION: 
I once held a full on conversation with a brick for 3 days. I'm good here.

THE CLOSING: 
By now hopefully I have managed to make her laugh and smile and the night is turning out to be a great success. The bar is winding down and it is time to close. Keep in mind I'm not talking about sex. A close could be a future first date, a phone number, an e-mail, a glass slipper; anything really. When it comes to closing I am like Reggie Bush; figure skating. Awkward, slow, and wearing uncomfortably revealing tights. I once had a really good two hour long conversation with a woman at a bar and when it was done she said " Aren't you going to ask me my name?" I froze. She got up shook my hand, gave me a wink and walked away. I ordered another gin-and-tonic, went into the bathroom and wept. I never know what to say. Do I ask for an email? Do people still email? Do I ask for her number and then ask her if she'd like to continue the conversation in my van? Do I ask for her Facebook or Instagram account? What are the rules? My closing skills definitely need refinement. I am about as good at closing as