Never Met a Humble Monkey

We are on the road, driving the traffic-at-every-juncture 332 miles between Boston and Paoli, PA for a family visit. Playlists have been played, sandwiches have been eaten, magazines have been read, and now we’re in yet another jam. In New Jersey. No surprise there. (But seriously, Jersey is cool. Just not the highway and 60% of the shore).

There’s an air of manic desperation being circulated by our leaking A/C. We are hitting rock bottom and we’ve still got two and a half hours to go.

Solution #1: Best Dave Matthews imitation. It’s a draw – Matt sounds like a mix between Dave and Jimmy Fallon’s imitation of one of the Bee Gees. I managed a closer approximation of Dave if he was fused with an 90 year old male country singer. Try this with “Tripping Billies” – it’ll get you through about five minutes. Two more if you argue about the winner afterward.

Solution #2: Since we’re already listening to Dave Matthews Band (only the old stuff, please), a long conversation ensues about how monkeys are not humble, even if to say one is serves your song transition. Which in turn inspires talk of
what kind of tweets the Proudest Monkey would post.

Just ate your last banana. #ProudestMonkey

Nailed zookeeper with dookie. Match point. #ProudestMonkey

Poked your mom. #ProudestMonkey

We don’t know how twitter works, but this takes up another ten minutes in traffic.

Solution #3: Fantasy car shopping. If you had to pick one of the 1039 cars within view to be your next car, which would you pick? This takes up another three minutes until Matt almost rear ends a truck. End of game. (But first he chose the blacked-out BMW M6).

Two hours and ten minutes to go. Now what?

Also, how do people road trip with kids? #becauseisaidso

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