Australian with a Car Key

[Cassanova]

OOC​

I had just come from a family friend's place in Virginia Beach, so it wasn't a long bus ride to the airport where I had gone and stood in the painfully long line for the rental cars. Finally, after what had seemed like an eternity of checking my watch every fifteen seconds, I was beckoned up to the counter. Admittedly, the lady was nice enough. Grace, i think her name was. I didn't pay too much attention to her name badge. I was almost running late.

Today, of course, was the day I had planned to pick up a few fellow members of the Star Wars role-play site I frequent, and we were going to road trip south to Florida for a convention of sorts. A few of the gang I have had a fair amount of time with; Ben, I'd spent too long on Skype with him, a few video chats too. Pureblood-Sin, honestly, I wouldn't have been able to tell him any different from Grace at the rental counter. Never met him before, and had spoken all of three words to him. Flamjetxx; similar, although I actually had a bit to do with him on the site. Last but not least; Tristar. All i knew about him was that he was from Malaysia - or lived there - or something.

"Can I help you?" She asked nicely, hint of a southern drawl present. I couldn't help but smile. In Australia we often crack bad jokes about Americans and southern accents, but it was nice to be reminded that its actually a good thing - not something to hear, and need to run away from being shot by some toothless goon with a double-barrel shotgun.

"G'day, just here to pick up a rental, thanks," I slid my Australian Drivers license, passport and credit card across the counter. Sue me, I had done this rodeo before and didn't feel like wasting time.

"Are you English?" It was an earnest question. I couldn't fault her too much. We were only seventeen thousand kilometres apart, sounded completely different and my passport had the word Australia written on the front of it.

"Aussie, actually," she had efficaciously filled out the required paperwork and slid a piece of paper to me that I signed while she abused my credit card with exhorbinant charges for crap that I'd never need. Promptly after I returned the paper and pen to her, I was given my details and a car key. Mystery deals online were always risky. I could think of nothing worse than sitting with a four other guys, all of whom i might not get along with, and be spending the next ten or so hours cramped in a pissy little hatchback. Luckily, I was given a key that looked like it belonged to something far more justifiable considering the amount I had paid for the car.

I thanked Grace, grabbed my stuff and slipped it into my backpack, and set about aiming for the arrivals area. As I neared it I mumbled to myself softly, "God I hope no one brought like four bags… If this is a Hyundai Getz we're so screwed."

Having confirmed that I was definitely in the right place, and checked the conveniently arriving four planes I had to watch out for - all arriving within 5 minutes of one another - I bravely pulled out a folded up piece of A3 card which I had meticulously adorned using a sharpie permanent marker.

I chuckled at what I thought was the funniest thing I had heard all day and held up the sign, "Let's see how well this works."

What I had written? SWRP Nerds.

 

[Ben]

I gripped the duffel holding all my crap for the long weekend and swallowed as I walked out into the harshly bright daylight and extreme humidity that I loved about the states. My jacket would no longer be necessary. I was kind of nervous; always was when I met net-people. Especially about Cas - uh, James. I considered the guy a buddy, and having spoken to him a fair bit, I'd built up the natural preconceptions. What would be like in those chill moments between intense debates over who shot first? It was a worrying thought. I realised I was hoping for his approval of some sort. Typical attitude from me.

Out of the others, I'd only really spoke to Pureblood first. It was kind of peculiar that I'd not made an effort to meet him before. He only lived about forty minutes from myself back home, and he was a cool guy. Way into his rock; we'd definitely have to jam at some point. I was more relaxed about meeting him though. I didn't even know half as much about him and was going in with more or less a clean slate. Tristar on the other hand was next to a total stranger, excepting a little site activity; so no pressure there. I heard there was a fifth guy coming too, but I had no idea who yet.

I looked at my feet as I walked into arrivals, not wanting to see James -- the only one I'd recognise -- before I got close to him. Then there might be a whole awkward 100 meter walk where I have to look about and smile awkwardly if he wasn't as chill a dude as he seemed. I had little worry that he wouldn't be sufficiently rad though. I brushed my fringe out of my face and gave a quick look around, my attention being caught by a sharp, and close, whistle.

My head whipped around and I saw James standing with a piece of A3 card. 'SWRP Nerds'. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, way to avoid attention. I began into a fit of silent laughter and headed forwards, unslinging my bag and placing it down on the floor on the other side of the barrier I'd ducked under to get to him. I was the first there.

I looked up to him and gave a big cheesy grin, seemed he was just as humorous and relaxed in real life. At least, on first impressions, that was.

"Cass!"

It slipped out and I immediately laughed off the self reprimand.

"How's it going, mate?!"

I pulled him in for a quick hug. Yeah, that's right. I'm a hugger.

"Rest of the gang not here yet?"

I looked around for any slackers or toilet-attendees on their way back to the herd. James was a little taller than I'd though he'd be; or maybe I was just feeling especially small today. Who knew? Luckily, I'd seen plenty of super HD wedding photo's in links and on Facebook, so I expected the rest. Dashing chap, by all means; definitely working the Australian tourist look.

"Oh, this is yours."

I dug my hand into my pocket and pulled out a suitably sized wedge of cash, freshly exchanged into USD. I handed over my portion of the rental fee, and a little extra for petrol or diesel money, whatever the car ran on.

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

Oy vey, I thought as I stepped off of the plane; the American sun was boiling and this one certainly didn't like it as much as should've. Still, its a lot better than dealing with the rain back home...and at least there weren't any chavs here. No doubt there would probably be something else entirely here, but that wasn't a problem. With my long hair bundled back in a bandana, I took a deep breath; though this wasn't my first time abroad (my second one in fact), this is definitely my first time on American soil. It was safe to say that I was here for reasons of pleasure; to meet up with a few online friends who shared a mutual interest. After I got past customs, I began to further ponder the folk I would be meeting.

Of course, I only knew them by their usernames; I can always play the terrible with names card, which to be honest isn't a lie. Cassa is the Australian who arranged this trip, no doubt he would be the fourth Australian I've met. Ben, a fellow Brit who didn't seem to live that far away, in the few online conversations we've had together seemed like someone who I'd become firm friends with. Tristar would be he first Malaysian I've ever met; most likely the first Malay assuming he isn't a member of Malaysia's Chinese community (yep, I'm an amateur anthropologist among other things.) Flamjetxx wouldn't be the first American I've met, assuming the others weren't Canadian...

I kept walking onward, following the main crowd of bodies to my desired destination, whilst promptly whisper-singing the chorus to Chthonic's Takao. As the stream of Taiwanese Hokkien words poured forth in that typical manner, that was when I saw something that broke me from my internal reverie. It seems I've found who I was looking for, as indicated by the sign that said SWRP Nerds. This made me chuckle inwardly, I was ever the one to appreciate self-deprecating humour. Straightening my Judas Priest t-shirt and checking that my hair was held back sufficiently by my card-themed bandana, I approached. The one that held the sign I guessed to be Cassa, whilst the other was a dude who appeared shorter than me. Walking over awkwardly, I vocalised my greeting with a slight bow (yep I sound liken a machine sometimes and I'm a bit of Sinophile).

"Merry meet and well met," I said with a slight jitter in my peculiar take on English, lets just say it sounded odd despite being a native speaker.; I fumbled for further common ground. "Burst eardrums are certainly annoying aren't they?"

 

[Tristar]

America.

So here I was in the land of the free, a land where according to the movies, teenagers are wild and crazy and submit to hot sex at the every whim. Also, according to the movies, there was an abundance of mafia mobsters and the cops had a fascination for donuts. Well guess who's got a book full of vouchers for Dunkin Donuts, eh? Eh? Bad joke. Clutching my rucksack, I walked through the departure gates, heart thumping erratically because for the first time in my life, I was entering America. And meeting a bunch of strangers I had no contact with other than a forum based role playing site that's been slowly assimilating me into it. Quite so, when the every instance I got I was either lurking in the shadows waiting for my threads to be replied to, or just replying to one myself. This was, to be fair, an eye opening experience.

From what I had seen on the forum, most of the people we'd be going to the convention (did I mention the convention before? No? Okay.) to had met each other in some format or the other. So far I knew only......barely a quarter of the people that was arriving. If I had not chatted to them on Skype, usually I had some sort of roleplay thread with them. Try to make friends and the like, right? Regardless, it wasn't going to help standing here and fiddling with my hair; even though I liked it short, I was often either too busy or lazy to bother to cut it. For this occasion though, I did get off my couch and braved the world for a haircut.

Huffing to myself for no absolute reason, I kept up the pace with the rest of the crowd, not bothering through baggage reclaim. All I had was a decently sized rucksack that had several spare change of clothes, toiletries and other assorted stuff. I wasn't too sure what kind of car we would be driving to the convention with, not that it mattered because I was never one to talk about car specifics. As I passed through the twin doors, my eyes caught the way too obvious sign that was not in anyway for us: SWRP Nerds.

Snorting, amused at Cassa's sense of humor, I went up to him, who apparently was being hugged by another person whom I could only guess as another one of the members joining us. Cool. At least I was slightly taller than him by maybe an inch? Then there was this..other dude. He just screamed nerd. And I liked it. Still no idea who this guy was, and to be fair, I had no idea who was who. This is me, going on a random guess spree. I smiled and waited for the hugging ordeal to be over before introducing to myself.

"Hey Cass, it's me. Tris, Tristar? Yeah.," I extended my hand in an attempt to be respectful, and for a handshake."Uhhh....so you're taller than I imagined you."

Laughing nervously, I dug out my portion of the rental fee and handed over to him, hoping that I had the right amount. Money exchange was too much of a hassle back in Malaysia. I only dread to think about it here.

 

[Flamjetxx]

I was surprised when all of my clothes and such were stuffed into a single suitcase, and when it was finally retrieved, I dreaded the moment I'd have to unzip the bastard. It bulged, and all that came to mind with it is, please don't burst open!

Regardless, I was here, and the trip hadn't even begun. I don't know why, but I always loved traveling. All the nice trips I've taken, took me for hundreds of miles in the back of a truck, and so a plane ride followed by a short trip was no problem! The only thin that returned to my mind over and over again in regards to the trip is why did the convention have to be in florida? Couldn't it have been closer? I mean the plane ticket was quite a hefty sum. What ever, it's not like I ever spend my money on anything worth while anyway. Not only that, but the weather in Florida had to be smoldering. I prefer the icy, Wisconsin winters over Florida's oven!

In all honesty, I'm rather surprised I even decided to go on this trip in the first place. Conventions weren't exactly the first things on my to do list, but at least I could get some fun out of it if I could get into the groove. The part that caught me by surprise was the fact that I'd meet up with who are essentially complete strangers for a random trip down to Florida! Woo-hoo!

Oops, too late to turn back, even if I wanted to. I could already see a group of nerdy-looking people that would likely be my SWRP buddies!

"HEY!" Sure, it was louder than I expected, but at least it got one of them to turn around.

Better not make this any more awkward than it needed to be, "Wassup SWRP friends?"

Yup, things have gotten weirder, better move in for a hug! Hugs always solve things. I open my arms and move in to hug the skinny one that I could vaguely assume is Cass. I had to be honest. The only one suppose I could recognize, and yet he looked really pissed off as I came in delivering a rather violent shove. A thick southern accent responded as my eyes widen to realize that couldn't possibly be Cass.

"Oh. Sorry. " I quickly turn away to feel the silent glare of the, now very confused man, on my back. Well, at least I'd have a second chance to rectify any mistakes Ii've made in the first attempt.

The next time I think I'm meeting with the... Oh, that looks like Cass this time.

Over by the rental, I saw a group having gathered, and a hug was already dished out. Ha, that's a mistake! I know from ex... Oh, I suppose they know each other already. Instead, I decided to play it cool as I come up to the group that looks as if it's only just formed.

"So. you guys are with SWRP right?" An eyebrow raised indicates that I mean business. In all honesty, if it weren't them, I'd just continue asking every random groups of nerdy-looking folks around. I probably should have gotten some pictures before I came, eh? Awe, well.

 

[Cassanova]

I was pretty good with faces, average with names - but luckily, Ben had graced us all by making shit simple on the site. Having skyped with him previously I spotted him without any drama. I'll be honest, the hug caught me by surprise, but hey - YOLO', right?

I gave Ben an appropriately lengthy broseph-hug, and chuckled, "Oh, we're hugging now. Before we go any further you're buying me dinner, alright?!"

Ever eager to have a good time, I set about peering about the arrivals area as Ben asked me the next question, "Honestly, dude? You're the only one I'd be able to pick out of a crowd."

With Ben, who I may have been considering as my safety net for the trip, in tow, I watched patiently and greeted appropriately as the other three members of our wandering circus arrived. With all five of us naturally falling into a circle, I took it upon myself to lay it out, "Alright guys. The power of deduction we've got," I pointed to myself, Ben, and the others as I moved around the circle, "Cassanova, Ben, Tristar, Pureblood, and Flamjetxx --" I paused, "Flam-jet-Ex-Ex. Seriously? Did you have a seizure when typing that in or something?"

"For those of you who give a damn, I'm happy to go by username or my real name, James. Ben is Ben, because we say so, and the rest of you kids can go about introducing yourselves as you want!" I clasped my hands together and took a moment to slide the A3 card into my Condor Backpack. Honestly, I love that pack. Olive Drab Green with a black and gold embroidered velcro patch with my name on it. I slung the bag up to my back, and brandished the car key and rental paperwork.

The unmistakable blue oval and the cursive font; Ford. I assessed the key for a moment; lock, unlock, alarm, trunk release, and rear window release - I breathed a sigh of relief. Pissy hatchbacks and sedans didn't have that last button, which meant we were riding in something decent. I flicked through the paperwork, inwardly chastising myself for not reading the fine print, but got to the juicy parts, "Alright guys, we've got ahh.. A Ford… Ford Escape. Silver, parked in bay C, spot seventeen." I shrugged, and pointed a finger around the group in a very 'Jeff Winger' sort of way, "So who's got a licence that's recognised here? Licence? Licence?"

Slipping the paperwork into my back pocket, and hooking the key onto my finger, tapping the edge of it against my wedding ring - a fun habit since getting married recently - I then set about eyeing off the group and spoke up. "Alright guys, let's get out of here. There's about a four hour drive to Wilmington, where I've booked two adjoining rooms," I completely understood the reservation of bunking with strangers, so i jumped onto the problem at hand. "Two doubles in each room, and there's a pull out sofa in one of 'em. We'll draw straws for that later, I guess."

Not caring to waste time babbling in the airport, I led the charge out of the terminal. I had the advantage of being here earlier this week when I landed and went to catch up with some family friends of mine, where the bulk of my luggage was. Today, however, it was just the backpack with a few changes of clothes. This time of year, however, in Norfolk it was ****ing cold. 4 degrees celsius. Having been living in the desert for the past few years and my refrigerator barely being capable of getting that cold, I experienced the slap in the face probably harder than the rest of the group would.

Those doors opened and the first words out of my mouth were, "Holy shit mother****ing ****balls! ****ing freezing out here!" In my 'near frozen' state, I scrambled for a lightweight windbreaker that hung loosely from my pack, slipping it over my long sleeve grey cotton shirt, black jeans, and my shamelessly worn in high-top hiking boots - they are comfortable, sue me.

"Please tell me i'm not the only one who thinks four degrees is stupid?" I said as i finally composed myself, "Or thirty nine farenheit or whatever it is. That shit's just stupidly cold…"

 

[Ben]

I greeted each member in turn as they arrived, making little internal commentaries about them as they arrived. Trying to squish any assumptions before they had a chance to arise, and failing. Pureblood had been pretty obvious to spot; I expected a rocker, and that's what I got.

"Tell me about it!"

I dug an finger into my ear and scrunched my face up on mock agony. The pressure started to settle back down now. The gang was all here, and none of them seemed too worrying or psychotic quite yet. Hopefully they would remain just as chill for the duration of the trip. I couldn't be bothered having to be polite to someone I disliked for over 10 hours in a confined space. It was just... eugh.

"Yeah, that's us! SWRP. Ready to hit the road?"

I ignored the fact that -- the last guy, who must Flam according to James -- hadn't handed over his share of the rental. I imagine we could concoct a plan to have dinner on him at some point during the trip. Even-stevens and all. I followed Cassa out towards the rental bay.

"Decent car to drive, been in 'em a few times. Should be plenty of room for what we have. I have my license, but I think most hire firms here require drivers to be at least 21. Most say 25."

I waved my license at James briefly before pocketing it again. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at James' aversion to the cold. I suppose it was only to be expected, but that didn't by any means lessen the streotype-appeasing humour apparent here.

"Oh come on, ya' big wuss. Man up."

I immediately regretted. This guy lived with snakes and spiders and the threat of imminent death, and from what I knew of James, he'd defintiely have a snide retort hidden up his sleeve somewhere. It was a little chilly though, so I shrugged back into my jacket and went back about my business. Luckily, it hadn't cooled down enough that I had to shiver for five minutes before my body warmed the leather up. I twisted back to the group.

"Shotgun, by the way. Guessing we'll flip a coin for who controls the music?"

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

"Indeed", I said in response, "my right ear is already frigged up so it doesn't really matter so much anyway."

Afterwards, I chuckled at Cassa-no James' referring to us as kids...I don't think I've ever been referred to by such nomenclature; if I have, then I have no recollection of it. Now I introduced myself, albeit in a manner they didn't expect.

"Ah, me llamo Lee; es el nombre mi madre tenis." I turned to the other guys with a mischievous grin on my face "Y tu?" After I finished my little tirade in my somewhat rusty take on Spanish, I switched back to English. "Feels more human don't you think? Besides, we don't want to look like a crazy cult do we?"

As for the mention of licenses...

"Nope, I can't even drive to save my backside."

After the necessary pleasantries were exchanged, we made our way to rental place, or whatever the hell you called it. As we waited, I began to braid a few strands of hair together; something I usually do to keep myself focussed whilst I was inactive. I began to hum again, this time the main riff to Amon Amarth's Twilight of the Thunder god; one of my personal favourite songs of all time...certainly gives one the urge for murder and mead, preferably the latter. Soon enough we found ourselves at the car...didn't really care since in my eyes, a car is a car no matter how fancy it was. I laughed as James complained about the weather, I was only wearing my Judas Priest t-shirt, some jeans and light jacket and I was boiling in what even my fellow Brits would consider a little chilly. Yep my body is absolutely shnuckered. When Ben chimed in with his witty tongue lashes, I joined in with my mine.

"Careful my friend, I used to take the mick out of Australians too..." A cheesy grin popped up on my face. "But then I took a boomerang in the knee."

After revelling in the inevitable storm of grunting and groaning, we then moved onto other matters; namely of seating and who controls the music.

"For seats I don't give hoot. As to the matter of music; how about we fight to the death so we can decide? That way, its more Metal."

 

[Cassanova]

I couldn't help but laugh at Pureblood's use of spanish. I was forced to revert to some basic spanish I had learned ten years ago when living in America, "Y tu mama tiene un gato en su pantalones." I couldn't refrain from having a slightly smug grin on my face. Naturally, adding to someone's sentence that their mother had a cat in their pants wasn't exactly reciting poetry, but I enjoyed the gesture. The only other phrase I could muster was Two beers, my friend will pay.

Now, out in the open air I eyed around the carpark looking for the direction in which we had to travel. Spinning the key around my finger, I couldn't help but join in on the conversation about music choices, "I swear, if anyone plays ABBA, they're getting left at the grungiest, grossest truck stop I can find." I paused, to playfully (and lightly) tap Ben in the back of the head. "You can't call shotgun until you see the car, douche."

The rules of shotgun should have been well known, and if they weren't, I was more than prepared to google the crap out of them to prove a point. That being said, I wasn't prepared to invoke the right of 'early call', relegating Ben to riding 'bitch' stuck in the back seat between two of the guys. Besides, I imagined that by the time we got to Orlando, all of us would have spent at least a two hour stint in the center rear seat, or as my uncle always called it, 'the afterthought'.

 

[Flamjetxx]

Confirmation was all I needed, and by the way that Cass immediately began to break the ice between them, I guess that it is indeed the right people I've found. Tristar, Ben, Pureblood Sin, Cassanova. Well, this is going to be confusing. When the trip is over, I suppose I'd know everyone's name, and then I'd have to revert back to calling them by there screen names when I get back home? Um. Well, I guess I'll get to it when it comes. For now, I had to catch up to what the heck was going on, and seeing the exchange of money between hands indicated that I needed to whip out the 'ole trusty wallet. Thankfully, I stuffed it full of tens and twenties before leaving for here, so cash was in abundance. I've always tried to keep a good chunk of cash in the wallet for any circumstance, and though I've always thought I'd bring enough, it rarely ever lasts. This time seemed it was no exception.

The velcro ripped apart, to revel at the stash, as I tore out a good stack of bills, only peering up from beneath my brows to see what everyone's reaction to a velcro wallet would be. I've always gotten some laughs, or rather confusion, and I expected no different form at least a few of them, "Yup. That's right. Velcro!"

"So how much was the rental?" I ask, trying to get a peek at the sheet, "Wow. Well, there goes the vast majority of my savings."

"As far as what you guys can call me, Curtis, Curt, Wolf, Flam, it doesn't matter to me just so long as you can get my attention somehow," I say in what sounds almost like some sort of purposely goofy voice, and in part, it was meant to be a tad goofy, though it was just the norm for me. If they'd gather anything from me, they'd figure out that I deliver a decent level of jocularity with almost every time I open my mouth; At least that's with the assumption I wasn't in some sort of a mood.

The individual, I guessed had to be Pureblood Sin, made his introduction via Spanish, and it was incredibly easy to pick up what he'd said. Though I couldn't have cared less to respond in the same manner. Spanish was a fun class, but I really, really, didn't like it. It was the only class I was forced to take during high school, and it was the only class that I simply couldn't get over a B in. Frustrating, and though I had a few decent memories, it was ultimately the bane of my school existence. So essentially, it was James as Cass, Ben as Ben -that one is going to take a bit to remember, but I think I'll manage-, Lee as Pureblood Sin, and lastly there's Tristar (who undoubtably would make his own introduction).

In regards to Jame's response to Lee's introduction, a wave of seriousness crosses my face, "That's not good." But a smile quickly wipes it away like a switch being flicked to show it was only a joke.

Thankfully it was a small enough group that I can hopefully manage to remember their names. Unfortunately, unless I can associate them with something in specific, i'll probably end up forgetting quickly. At least I think I can be clever enough to sneak it out of them in a subtle enough way to not draw too much attention to myself.

By the mention of driving, I really didn't like to drive, but I realize that I'm the only native to this country, and unfortunately, that meant that I was suspect number one, "Um. I guess I can drive, but if anyone else wants to, I certainly won't steal the show."

In all honesty, I'm a very good driver, but the problem is that I hate how everyone else tends to drive like morons. Such is the curse of living in Merica. Awe, well.

Getting outside brought a laugh to the air at Jame's response to the cold, and I made no attempt to hide it. Through the big smile on my face, I managed to spit something out in response, "Sorry, not funny."

"For seats I don't give hoot. As to the matter of music; how about we fight to the death so we can decide? That way, its more Metal," Lee says in regards to the flipping of a coin.

"Well, I don't see how we can all enjoy the music if most of us are too sea to hear it," I say in yet another serous tone, but with jocularity clearly in its wake.

As to what it sound like though, I am more willing to go along with what Lee wanted to listen to, just because he sounds like he wants to listen to some metal. I've been dipping in and out of Metal for a while now, never hanging in too long, and right now I'm in a Metal swing, so it won't bring any tears to my eyes so far. Though, I like to pride myself with being able to listen through just about any torture; Even ABBA, if it came down to it.

I would have even offered my own music collection if it was nearly as extensive as I wanted it to be; However, it was far from its former glory, and I was still in the process of rebuilding my empire of tunes, that mainly consisted of anything that rocked. Mostly form the 90's though. No one knows why I'm stuck retro, but I love it. I just can't stand all this Taylor Swift, Justin Timberlake, Justin Beiber crap they repeat, over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over........and over again on the radios. however, I will sit through it if they want it. -_- But they best watch their back, for I will have my vengeance.

"You can't call shotgun until you see the car, douche," my zone was broken by Ben's and Jame's shotguns. Clearly I was going to get a very detailed education on shotgun calling. Jokes on them though, because if I'm not driving, I'd prefer the back seat.

 

[Tristar]

I generally stayed back, watching as pleasantries were exchanged between the men. I felt strangely out of place, mostly because by all rights I am still a teenager. Though, at least I had the mercy of not owning a velcro wallet. Sniggering at the sight, I followed closely behind them as we made our way to the rental spot. The very moment we left the building, the cold hit me full force and I just swore loudly and pulled back inside, took out a jacket and wore it on as fast as possible before running up behind them.

"**** **** **** its cold cold c-c-cold ****ing! Jesus Effing Christ its colder than hell oh dear god its cold."

That was the rant of a very out of place Malaysian as I kept my hands tucked into my armpits and braved the chill, bitching on and on about the weather. Why couldn't we have landed in Florida for christ's sakes? And for that matter, how could all of them walk in the cold without so much as a hoot? At least James thought it was cold, everyone else acted as though it was normal to be walking in a freezer! I personally agreed with Cass here, it was too cold to be inhabited.

When we saw the car, I was elated; heater! Then everyone started the mess about seats and who got the right to change the music. I watched in amusement at the sheer childishness of the ensemble of men, and I smiled before bee-lining it to the car and banging it with my body, teeth chattering. Suddenly, the situation wasn't so funny.

"Guys, screw seating arrangements I just want to not die of hypothermia, thank you very much. So long as nobody puts Justin Beiber, One Direction, feckin' anything related to rap except Eminem, we're best buds. Just let me in oh dear god it's cold as balls!"

I must look ridiculous, constantly bitching loudly. But seriously, it's friggin' cold!

 

[Cassanova]

I couldn't help but laugh - at least Tristar had some sense about the temperature. I took a moment to check the paper tag hanging from the key, and spotted the car - bunched up with a group of others SUV's and minivans. The silver beast, glistening in the warmth-forsaken sun just beckoned for me to unlock its doors. Naturally I did. I wasted no time in faffing about unlocking the doors and stuff, I went straight for the driver's seat, opened the door, slid the key into the ignition and fired it up. Without climbing into the car, I leaned over the seat and wasted no time in cranking the heater to what i hoped was 'Hellstralia-Warm' and then fan up to 'Turn-your-boxers-into-a-sail'.

With the car running, the heater on, and the car's radio settling onto whatever stupid radio station that it was preset to, I moved back towards the rear of the car, and motioned the guys over as I opened the considerable rear door, removed my GPS and its bracket and tossed my bag in, settling it into the little nook between the wheel arch and the rear fender.

I took a moment to eye off the group and motioned to the car, "If no one's objecting, I'll drive the first bit," I moved around the car, and settled into the driver's seat, reminding myself that the everything was flipped in the car; indicators, location of the gear selector - I knew that some people struggled with the conversion, and recalled that in some cases, people assumed that the brake and accelerator were switched too -- Just to clarify; they're not. In an automatic, like our Escape, accelerator on the right, brake on the left.

I yelled through the car to the fellas loading their bags into the back, "Oh yeah, now you can call shotgun, by the way!" I took a moment to set up the GPS on the window, and familiarised myself with the ins and outs of the car. I had a quick fiddle with the seat position, getting it into the appropriate position for a long haul drive. Had a quick, but noncommittal fiddle with the cruise control and lights, a brief once over the indicators, and then set myself to the radio as the guys settled into the car.

"Righto. So roles for the car?" I shrugged and pointed to the guys. "Shotgun, you're navigator. Rear left, you're on cop-watch. You see a cop and let me know. Centre seat; you're on DJ-duty. If you're riding bitch, you get control of the tunes. Rear right; you get to sleep if you want. Or flick shotgun in the back of the head - whatever you wanna do. All around the car; seat belts on. Don't like it - you're walking." It sounded a bit harsh, but a well established set of rules early in the trip would make things easier for the four hours tonight, and the remaining eight tomorrow. I hoped the guys would run with it.

With the rules in place, I keyed in our overnight destination; Wilmington, North Carolina. I had been there once, like fifteen years ago, riding in the back with Mum and Dad on the way to a family holiday at Disney World. This was nothing like that. With my seatbelt on, I turned around. Feigning ignorance, I posed the question to the car, "So you drive on the right-hand side of the road here right, Curtis?"

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

I chuckled at James' Spanish response, it was clear to me he learned the dialects spoken by Mexicans; the Spanish I spoke was the dialect spoken in Spain. "True Castilian" as they liked to call it. So I gave my own response back.

"¡Muy bien! mi madre no tiene un gato en su pantalones. Mi dos hermanas pequeñas esta la niños del diablo."

I said with a mischievous grin; then came Tristar's grievances about the weather, to which I responded with.

"Be thankful it isn't raining...its far from the warm rains you get in Malaysia, so there's that small mercy. By the gods, we can't all live in the desert or the tropics y'know."

Then came another matter of utmost importance; the matter of getting put in charge of the music. If they put anything crappy on, I'll probably end up projectile vomiting green slime, rotating my head a full 360 degrees whilst spouting things I wouldn't normally say otherwise.

"Of course I am always up for the bitch position if it gets me to choose the music; plus such individuals are always in a most opportune position, in more ways than one."

Of course, the many songs I could unleash on my companions rotated in my mind; perhaps I could begin by getting everybody to wet themselves laughing. Go with singing along to Glam Metal anthems by Motley Crue, Ratt, perhaps a bit of Bon Jovi for the added cheese. Mmm cheese, uh oh, I must getting hungry. Any who, perhaps I could scare the crap out of them by putting on some Norwegian or Taiwanese Black Metal...or really do something I've always wanted to do.

"As for the driving, count me out. Cah mi cyan do dat ya know."

 

[Flamjetxx]

Tristar hadn't yet introduced himself in his real name, so I assume he'll do it when the time comes. Either that or he just doesn't trust me. Good choice. When we all got outside, James was joined in complaining about the chilly weather by Tristar, and it really put on a show. I am glad that I've grown up in a four seasons climate. Who knows what I'd be doing otherwise.

When we get to the car, it doesn't sound like anyone would be needing a driver anytime soon, so that was good news for me. I could just relax in the back seat looking for cops or something. Forgive me if I don't want to control the radio, but I could really care less for the music, "I suppose I'll take driver's side back seat. Believe it or not, I tend to take jobs seriously. Tristar, I suppose you can take passenger side back seat, since you're coming half way from around the world, and you haven't really had any time to adjust. You must be quite tired... Unless you want to stay up looking at a map?"

I load my bags, and help everyone else's bags into the back. It is a tighter fit that I would have liked, but I find that the run and shove method works best for squeezing everything in. When I came around the side to get in behind James, I stepped in to hear the fan on high. Ha, that'll be a bit chilly until the heat actually warms up. But I suppose this is a newer vehicle than anything I've ever driven, so chances are that it'll warm up within a minute or two rather than the ten minute's I'd have to wait for my truck.

My only worry is that he'll try to recreate Australia in a car. I tend to drive in the middle of winter without the heat, so this might get interesting in a few minutes.

"So you drive on the right-hand side of the road here right, Curtis?" James asks. It was clearly a joke, and if I weren't already devising a way to combat it, I might have laughed.

"I try to most of the time, but you know what? It's a lot more fun to play chicken with people here. People act tough, but really they're a bunch of scared children! All in all, I think we can win!"

If they haven't caught on by now, we're going to end up driving on the left side of the road, and then we'll see just how right... or wrong I really am.

"So uh... Any one have interests outside of SWRP?"

 

[Ben]

"I reiterate, shotgun."

I stuck my lip out in a mocking pout after hearing I wouldn't get to play my music. Who didn't love Foo Fighter's on loop? I was pretty good with a map though, and I'd done a few legs across Canada and Northern US, so I had a good idea how their road systems worked too. Plus, I'd driven on some of the emptier roads around Yosemite and up in Canada too. If things got strained, I could get us from A to B.

I slung my duffel in the trunk and worked my way around to the passenger side on the right, clapping Lee on the shoulder and grinning at him conspiratorially as I went; I had a good idea of what our eardrums would soon be crying to. I wasn't the biggest metal-head ever, but I'd had my days of head-banging and long hair when I was sixteen or so. I had a nostalgic fondness of a sort for the real heavy stuff.

"Right then," I huffed, swinging my jacket on and slumping into the seat next to James. I threw my hand-luggage at my feet (all the travelling nerd essentials; sunglasses, charger cables and power adapters, laptop, books, yada's and yada's of rubbish) and snatched the huge map from James' extended hand. "Wilmington, North Carolina, eh? Where o' where are you hiding."

I unfurled the map and then folded it back down until I had the main stretch of East coast dominating my side of the dashboard; my little command centre prepped and ready. I dropped a bottle of coke into the cup holder and put my shades on; it was cold, but still a lot brighter than back home. I found the 'you are here' sign, and traced my finger down America's coast towards Orlando, Florida, until I found our spot.

"Gotcha. Looks simple enough. Mainly highways and interstates and the like; nothing too tricky until we actually get towards some of the bigger settlements."

Like our pit-stop.

I smiled around at the back-seaters and offered up a fist bump to James across from me, bathing in the cars hot air blowers. The first hints of real excitement began to set in now I was sat down in a car full of -- hopefully -- my soon to be buddies. It was the first change I had to appreciate it since waking bright and early in cold, grey England and rushing off at the speed of light. It was finally real. This was going to rock.

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

When Ben clapped me on the shoulder as I slung in my luggage, both my suitcase and my bass guitar, I turned and he gave me that knowing look; oh he knew the type of music I preferred to listen to having discussed it days ago. This of course made me in the mood for mischief; do I open with the most extreme, Christian-hating, throat-tearing Black Metal? The most brutal Death metal? Or simply play the tease and put on some classic Metal or Dragon-slaying power metal. My only external display was a mischievous grin. Then remembered Flam, no Curtis', inquire as our interests; this was the moment I chose to begin the mischief whilst gesturing to the pentacle around my neck.

"Lets see; Metal, Paganism, witchcraft, Haitian Vodou, Warhammer, Different Cultures and dirty jokes." I said with a chuckle. "Also, if we end up crossing the bible bet, don't be shocked if I start randomly smoking...I'll try not to start screaming curses in Latin or Aramaic."

As I retrieved a bottle of diet coke and the mix CD I prepared, consecrated in the flames of Holy Metal (\m/). I then promptly took my seat in the car and waited to surprise most of our party. When I heard Ben start talking about maps, I decided to chime in.

"Good job I'm not doing that; knowing my luck we'd end up in Mexico or, somehow, the Antarctic." After that, I began to display my questionable taste in humour. "So...which one is putting on the lotion or it gets the hose?"

 

[Tristar]

I sniffed the cool air and hurriedly ditched my rucksack into the trunk of the car, before slipping into the backseat that would've been right behind the driver's seat had the car been made in Malaysia; in this case I was right behind whoever was seated shotgun. Normally, it would be a cause for distress, but as it stood I was far too tired and sleepy to bother doing anything at all. Resting my neck on the neck brace of the car seat, I leaned back and closed my eyes, slowly falling asleep.

"..hey guys?.......tired......need'ta sleep a little bit. Wake me up when we get to the rest stop; chances are I'm gon' need to use the restroom by then. And keep it low if you guys wanna do a ballad or something..humanuh...humunuh....."

Just like that, I slammed the car door shut, and leaned against the window. Hoping others would be considerate enough to let a poor, exhausted jetlagged dude who traveled halfway across the world just for a bloody convention in Florida. For less than a week apparently too, with new people I had to get acknowledged with.

"...sorry......we'll.....get names later......humunah....."

 

[Cassanova]

I chuckled at Tristar curling up in the back, and set about putting the car in reverse, pleasantly surprised by the reversing camera that sprung up in place of the radio screen. As I turned the wheel I dutifully, mostly out of habit, looked around rather than relying on the camera. It was good for making sure you weren't going to back over a toddler, but that was about it, really. It took only a few moments for me to get the mid-size SUV from its parking station, and out towards the boom gate. I rummaged in my jacket pocket and pulled a 3.5mm headphone cable, plugging it into the stereo, and passing the other end through the center of the car to Pureblood. Being a decently compact and retractable cable that reached nearly two meters, he'd be able to comfortably peruse his music choices from the back seat. "Here ya go, Lee"

I ran my hands in front of the heater as I no-handedly pulled up to the security gate at the edge of the carpark. It took me a moment to pull a parking pass from the glossy paper folder I had been given, and promptly issued it to the security guard outside the comfort and warmth of the car - the scars on my hand took all of two seconds to start practically glowing purple. The guard eyed the five of us off a little too suspiciously for my liking, but waved us on as the paperwork and pass was all in order. I breathed a sigh of relief, five blokes in a rental car was always a recipe for trouble. (Personal experience had proved that).

I turned the music to an amiable level, allowing Tristar his rest. Now actually out into the traffic I took a few streets to 'calibrate' my head into driving in the lanes in the USA. Its harder than most people think, you've actually got to reposition yourself in the car, in the lane, and mentally keep that up that you need to physically be on the left-hand side of the lane, but on the right-hand side of the road. Sounds simple, but after driving for 8 years in Australia doing the exact opposite, it took some getting used to. Having first learned to drive a car in America, it came back quickly. The idiots on the road, however, were a completely different matter. A white van cut me off, and I gently, but firmly applied the brake using a technique that professional car and cart racers use called 'threshold braking'. Its pretty nifty, you essentially slam the brakes on, but don't engage the ABS, effectively coming to a more efficient, faster, but smoother stop. The van pulled in front of me, flipping me the bird - despite me having right of way, and all that. I couldn't help myself, "Apologies in advance, Curtis. You'll hear this a lot on this trip; ****ing yanks."

With the van incident in the rear view mirror, I coasted onto the freeway, ramping the car up to a whopping fifty five miles an hour, or as we call it in Australia; eighty five kilometres. Or more accurately; annoyingly slow for a freeway. As I engaged the cruise control and settled back into what I called the 'cruising position', I recalled a game I often played when on road trips in the USA, and couldn't resist getting the guys involved. "Alright, four hours to kill. There are fifty states in the You-Ess-of-Aye. Now this game works here, but not in Australia because we've only got eight states, and we're the same size" I changed lanes to get around some old granny in a Buick GNX with Alabama plates. I pointed to the car, "Alabama. The point is to see how many of the fifty plates we can see on a trip. Geographically speaking, you get one point for the state you're in, two for neighbouring, three for anything further afield, and considering where we are; You get ten points if you find an Alaskan plate and twenty for Hawaii."

Having successfully spotted an Alabama plate, while we were still in Virginia, I had just scored myself three points off the bat. "You can't call the same car that someone else has, or call the same state either." I grinned evilly as I changed back into the second-to-curb lane, now safely in front of the GNX. "Fifty states, lads. Best of luck."

Referring to Pureblood's music device of choice (iPod, iThing, etc), "Oh, Lee. Got any Red Hot Chili Peppers on there?"

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

"Kiitos."

I said to James with a chuckle, my saying thanks in Finnish should provide the first clue to the first song I'm going to play. As I eagerly plugged it into my device, I began to actively search for the song I planned; such my focus on the task I was completely oblivious to the world around me. It was only a sudden jerk that managed to rouse me from my single-minded endeavour; followed by our current driver's profane, yet apologetic response. I simply shrugged.

"Compared to the road rage my stepdad gets; that's comparably tame...it would have been a constant stream of profanities with him."

Soon enough, James began to tell us of a game; something to do with how many license plates we could spot from different states. Yours truly was still busy looking for that bloody song. Soon enough, our Aussie friend enquired as to whether or not I had any Red Hot Chilly Peppers on my device. I gently shook my head, knocking free a few strands of hair.

"Afraid not my friend, the deepest I've ever delved into punk was Hanoi Rocks; which I have on here...but that's not the Finnish band that's about to come on."

As I on cue, the familiar guitar lick came on; followed by sound of the drums, bass, accordion and flute came in. Soon enough, the familiar gruff singing voice of Jonni Jarvela came on. I spoke just as the first Finnish words popped out.

"My friends, I give you Tervaskanto by Korpiklaani."

 

[Flamjetxx]

The trip was already off to a slow start, and that was mostly due to the fact that my mind was, as always, traveling faster than my body could keep up. I always have something to say, and instead of stumbling over my the first half of a sentence, and finishing with the end of another sentence that was due to come two sentences later, I decided to try to pick and choose the best of what I had to get out. I tend to revolve around jokes and trying to be humorous at nearly every turn. Over the years, I've collected quite a bit of material that I absolutely love to recycle. and with a fresh group, the opportunities were flying faster than I could spit anything out. The only question now is whether I should unleash my personality on them so strongly. I've often eased people in, because my personality could get a bit dark at times.

When I got my answer from Lee, I really shouldn't have been surprised. He just went all the way, and I realized that even though I may share some interest in taste of music -for the most part anyway- , he's is a lot darker than I could ever be. It would be interesting to compare the music I listen o compared to what he listens to. I'm sure the European influences tend to be fairly different than American influences. Low and behold, the first song that popped on, though it seemed enjoyable, was incomprehensible. I'm sure I could have enjoyed it a bit more if I could at least understand the words, but I had to admit that his choice in song was surprisingly light compared to what I'd expected.

I suppose that the requests from Ben and James probably influenced a lighter song to ease them into the metal scene. Though I enjoyed the Foo fighters and Red hot Chili Peppers,I've already begun to prep myself for a darker tune. IN fact, over the past few years, I've noticed myself drifting farther away from them, and closer towards bands such as KoRn, System of a Down, and Tool. It's funny to see how much music can influence us, and how much it matters to us.

As the white van broke into our lane, causing us to slow down considerably, I couldn't help but to let out my own thoughts on the driver, "Use a frickin' turn signal!"

At the same time, James had his own to say, and I could honestly say that I didn't care what he said about anyone, but about myself. I tended to be a backseat rage driver. My pet peeves being the fact that turn signals ceased to exist after you've gotten your license, the other one being the fact that the speed limit says one thing, but everyone just adds 15 to that number, and miraculously manage to avoid being pulled over when they fly past a speed trap. I wouldn't be so ticked about the latter if it weren't for me getting into an accident while happening to be going over 10 mph and getting a reckless ticket for it. I just figure that the rest of the world gets a free pass where I get a ticket, despite the fact that I know that there are plenty who've paid the same price. I just figure that everyone would be better off following the same rules, instead of myself being the only one too scared to go more than 5 over in fears of getting another ticket... Awe well.

"Don't worry about it. Whatever a Yank is, I'm sure they deserve it," I say with a very serious tone. yet another one of my own ways of pretending to be ignorant. It would normally take a few tries of someone trying to explain something as simp to me, and myself purposely responding incorrectly, but somehow more ridiculously before they realize that I'm joking. It works better when I ask someone the time, and repeat their answer with a half an hour added, or subtracted. People tend to get very worked up about how I could have possibly managed to miss what they'd just said, and when they realize, it's all the more funny. Their sighs of relief, head shaking, eye-rolling, chuckles all mean that I've done my job well.

I had to admit. A game, even if it was as simple as eye spy or Fifty states was something that was a decent icebreaker. They all kind of jumped right in as if we've known each other all the do-da day, but in reality, we're all technically strangers; Well, almost all of us. I was very willing to participate immediately, even if it was an overly simplified game that I had no doubt I'd fail. We could all engage in some riveting discussions about star wars and other fun things later. After all, we all have a good drive ahead of us!

I first peeked over the driver's seat to check his speed limit. It was indeed agonizingly slow, but it was no different from speed limits in Wisconsin. All the adjacent states all had 75mph instead of 65mph, and 65 for Wisconsin was rather generous. In Milwaukee, I am stuck at 55, almost always in rush hour traffic that brought everything down to a steaming 35. Talk about agonizing. It seems that no one wants to trust Wisconsinites to not have been drinking while driving. After all, Wisconsin is known for only its beer and cheese.

So this here was a normal speed for me, and to see James following the speed limit so relatively closely, I figured that since I was on cop watch that I could become the Devil in his ear, "You know, you could get away with 60, 65 if you're keeping up with the rest of the wolf pack."

Thoguh I wouldn't ordinarily go 10 over, only because of my own adamant vow to never stray past 5 over. It was perfectly reasonable for him to keep up with the rest of the speeders. In my experience, the traffic will slow for you when a cop is up ahead. Not only that, but when we do pass one up, and we're all traveling the same speed, there's no way they could pull us all over. Often times, it's the first guy over 10 to get pulled over, and the rest poo themselves, "Just make sure you're following someone else, so that they can slow down for you."

I've always been a pretty bad influence on others. When your mother asks you if you would jump off a bridge if all your friends were doing it, I was the first of your friends to jump. Funny thing is that I've actually done that several times too. Always the first one in, and the last one to get hurt. Thank goodness I'll never learn my lesson!

"Ooh! Hawaii!" The plate clearly said Virginia. Though I'd thought twas funny that he'd mentioned Hawaii in the first place, "Oh, never mind. It was Virginia."