Bonus Post: Driving misadventures (a trilogy (part 1, The Hawaiian Milkshake Incident))
I figured it'd be fun to do a trilogy of sorts with different driving misadventures. (Because we all know driving misadventures are a lot more fun when they happen to other people. When they happen to you, it's just painful.) So thus is part 1, The Hawaiian Milkshake Incident.
Allow me to set the scene. The island of Maui, Hawaii in 2008. We were on a family vacation, and being the sun-starved Northern Albertans that we were we spend most of our times sitting in the sun and enjoying the beaches.
One day, we had stopped our snorkelling/sun soaking/sand castle building for the day, grabbed five extra large milkshakes and pointed our rental car in the direction of The Garden of Eden. (It was basically this really beautiful garden with waterfalls and stuff.) It was about an hour's drive through the twistiest, windiest, craziest road ever (and by the way, all those words are real. Promise). (Also, please remember that at this point I was about nine years old, my sister was about seven and my brother was probably five. We are barely mature enough to survive a full hour without killing each other today, and almost eight years ago it was pandemonium.)
So we spent half an hour winding up and down this road, definitely not murdering each other, sweating and feeling pretty sick from all the twisting going on. At one point, we met a guy from Calgary who taught us some "magic" tricks, which was pretty cool.
Then, the inevitable happened. All five of our milkshakes tipped and deposited themselves on the carpet of our rental car. Goodbye, breakfast/lunch. Mom scooped the milkshake onto the side of the road, and based on the moral of the occupants of the car (namely, we were all carsick and wanting to strangle each other) Dad turned the car around and we wound back down the road. We never did get to see the garden.
We still had the car for about another week, and thanks to the lovely Hawaiian weather the milkshakes quickly rotted. Every time I'd open a door, a blast of sour milkshake would hit me in the face and nearly knock me over. Dad cleaned it the best he could, but we still had to hold our breaths whenever we got inside, which was often problematic.
Allow me to set the scene. The island of Maui, Hawaii in 2008. We were on a family vacation, and being the sun-starved Northern Albertans that we were we spend most of our times sitting in the sun and enjoying the beaches.
One day, we had stopped our snorkelling/sun soaking/sand castle building for the day, grabbed five extra large milkshakes and pointed our rental car in the direction of The Garden of Eden. (It was basically this really beautiful garden with waterfalls and stuff.) It was about an hour's drive through the twistiest, windiest, craziest road ever (and by the way, all those words are real. Promise). (Also, please remember that at this point I was about nine years old, my sister was about seven and my brother was probably five. We are barely mature enough to survive a full hour without killing each other today, and almost eight years ago it was pandemonium.)
So we spent half an hour winding up and down this road, definitely not murdering each other, sweating and feeling pretty sick from all the twisting going on. At one point, we met a guy from Calgary who taught us some "magic" tricks, which was pretty cool.
Then, the inevitable happened. All five of our milkshakes tipped and deposited themselves on the carpet of our rental car. Goodbye, breakfast/lunch. Mom scooped the milkshake onto the side of the road, and based on the moral of the occupants of the car (namely, we were all carsick and wanting to strangle each other) Dad turned the car around and we wound back down the road. We never did get to see the garden.
We still had the car for about another week, and thanks to the lovely Hawaiian weather the milkshakes quickly rotted. Every time I'd open a door, a blast of sour milkshake would hit me in the face and nearly knock me over. Dad cleaned it the best he could, but we still had to hold our breaths whenever we got inside, which was often problematic.
You're not the first person this has happened to! Except with me, it was Cola and not milkshakes :/
ReplyDeleteThis was a really entertaining post, Victoria! You've got yourself another follower <3
Oh goodness, I can just imagine the chaos...
DeleteThank you so much! I really appreciate it :D
This was great! We spilled milk (almost half a gallon) in our brand new car like a month after having it (right in the middle of the summer). Goodbye new car smell, hello driving with the windows down and trying not to gag.
ReplyDeleteI couldn't help but cringe as I read that XD. That sounds awful! And brand new, too...
DeleteAh! I hate it when that happens! Sour milk is the worst. :P Especially on long car trips.
ReplyDeleteI once went to get snow cones for my family and they had filled the cups to the brim. So I sloshed grape snow cone on the my car seat and the stain of course is still there. Not that it bothers me much. As long as it isn't sticky, I can live with it. XD
I almost died, Ashley. I almost died.
DeleteI'm glad it doesn't bother you too much! It'd drive me crazy, especially if it looked like a blood stain. It doesn't look like a blood stain, right?
I honestly thought you were being sarcastic about The Garden of Eden xD
ReplyDeleteWow. Sour milkshake. I have rarely seen sour milk in real life but whenever I did, it was horrifying. I'd be scared to see sour milkshake. :/
I thought my parents were kidding when they told me, too! It's an actual thing, though, and apparently it's really beautiful.
Delete*nods sadly* It was truly awful, I hated it.