My brain is mush.
We spent the weekend driving back and forth to see my mom. There's a certain amount of mass chaos inherent in traveling with young children, but not quite as much as there is in traveling with my best friend. For some reason, whenever I get into a car with her, I suddenly lose my ability to speak AND my ability to tell the left from the right. Which means that she'll be driving, and I'll point out the left window and go, "Uuunh!"
That means "turn right." Obviously.
The saddest part of this story is that I'm not making it up.
And then, there was the trip that we took to Mexico. We went to a beach party and ended up getting frisked by the cops. I did, anyway. Her dress was so skimpy that there was no way she could hide anything in it.
There was also the time that we were followed for about 50 miles by a frisky trucker because she dared me to lick my soda bottle, and he saw it. The worst part about that episode is that I really needed a bathroom break, but we couldn't stop for fear of the frisky trucker.
Fear the frisky trucker. That's my travel motto. What's yours?