This is my fictionalized version of Rob’s version of his recent business trip.


The Rob Show heads south
We join Rob cruising south down I-95 in the left lane. He’s at the wheel of a big white van, gummi worms in his pocket and a handful of Runts in his mouth. Some men his age would not be comfortable at the wheel of a van, but Rob has been driving vans since they dominated the soccer mom scene. When soccer moms left for SUVs, Rob stayed with the van, so he’s no stranger to this mode of family transportation. Instead of a family, today Rob has coworker Shelly riding shotgun. Shelly is the Mary Tyler Moore to Rob’s Lou Grant, except in this sitcom Lou is the title character.

Four lanes, a white van, the rising sun, Rob and Shelly heading south to Raleigh, North Carolina. Four lanes, a white van, a black cat streaking across their path on this morning run to Raleigh. An omen of things to come? Rob and Shelly exchange nervous glances. Rob grabs a handful of gummi worms and mixes them with leftover Runts. He gulps them down, then washes it all down with a nice hit off his 44 oz. Mountain Dew. Ah, mornings. “Nothing to worry about,” he tells Shelly. “Gummi Worm?”

Shelly politely declines and the white van hurtles on. In less than 2 hours they’ll be in Raleigh and ready to join forces with other workers who are setting the stage for the Bike-across-part-of-NC or some other worthy cause. Even Rob isn’t sure what he does, but he does it well and that’s why they send him to places like Altoona, North Carolina.

“I thought we were going to Raleigh,” Shelly says to Rob.

“We were, but the signals got crossed and the event actually starts in Altoona. It’s only 45 more minutes off the highway.”

One lane, gravel road, Shelly and Rob bumping their way to Altoona.

Less than 2 hours turns into less than 5 hours. Eventually the van pulls into Altoona. Rob is famished as he is wont to be. There’s no time for him to eat. The local events coordinator needs his assistance. It should only take an hour. They just need to put up some signs for tomorrow’s Bike Ride for the Children, so the riders know where to go- then Rob can eat, no problem.

Small problem; an hour turns into 3 and by this time its midnight, which means Rob and Shelly have not only endured a hell of a day, but they also seemed to have lost like 6 hours of the day with no explanation. Finally they get the signs up and now all of the bike riders will know exactly where to go during their Ride to Stop War. Rob and Shelly are weak with hunger. They venture into Altoona and after circling both streets repeatedly they realize that there is nowhere to eat. Rob pulls out the last of the gummi worms and they share those while they search for the hotel that will supply their beds for the next few hours. Don’t forget they have to be up for the “Ride to Prevent Scioraisis” by 5 am, because they need to work the registration tents. Rob and Shelly haven’t forgotten. That night Rob sleeps like any loyal husband away from his wife. Shelly will claim she heard tears, but Rob will deny it.

Up at 5 am, the white van heads to the local high school track where they are to set up the tents. One small problem- the sun is not up yet. There’s no light pollution in Altoona. It’s black as that cat they saw on I-95. A crafty events veteran pulls his Chevy Malibu onto the infield and turns on the headlights. Rob leads the troops as they fight to the back of the trucks to remove the tables that have to be set up first.

“Who packed this?” Rob mumbles to himself. Eventually, the registration tents get set up, despite the Mailbu’s tendency to automatically turn off its lights repeatedly. The sun rises and the first of the Bikers to Save the Whales arrives chomping at the bit to start the event.

Rob’s troops have to turn away the early risers.
“The event starts at 7:30,” he calmly explains.

The early risers hem and haw, desperate to start so that they can reach the end sooner and Protect the Forests faster.

Shelly explains the course and the riders head off, just as God turns on the showers. Rain. And lots of it. Bikers, hundreds of them, are getting soaked by the downpour. Rob and Shelly don’t have time to worry. They hop in the white van and head to the first tricky check point. Their responsibility is to make sure that the riders who want to ride 100 miles go to the left and the riders who want to ride 60 miles go to the right.

It takes them 35 minutes of winding through the nonexistent suburbs of Altoona and the pouring rain of North Carolina Spring time before they make it to their check point. Standing drenched in the rain they direct the riders who haven’t already passed. The weary looking get “Go Right. RIGHT!” The speedy, and those with especially attractive calves are directed to the left. The rain pours on.
More than one Southern Gentleman stops to ask if Rob and Shelly need a lift. When they decline, the gentlemen turn gruff and peel away, angry that they don’t get to use their Southern charm and manners to save a few Northern fools standing out in the rain.

Finally, the last of the riders have been set on their course. Back to the white van the two wet coworkers head for that evening’s camp. They wind through North Carolina. Shelly works the maps and Rob coaxes the van to the next town. And through the next town. And through every small town in North Carolina. When they finally arrive, Rob figures they have an hour to rest before the riders pull in. He parks the van and notices a pack of riders coming up the hill. So much for that hour. He then walks to the camp and realizes that pack is the last half of the riders. The big guns have beaten them to the camp.

Dinner would be the ideal task, but instead Rob, Shelly, and the NC crew have to figure out how to cram 400 bikes into a gymnasium that could easily fit 200. Eventually they manage to balance the bikes against walls, against chairs, against lockers, and in locker room showers until all 400 are protected from the elements.

The rain stops.

Rob and Shelly could stay with the riders for a big Spaghetti dinner, but instead choose to take the van to the nearest greasy spoon. After some searching they do manage to get food, but just barely.

They squeeze in to Charlie’s or Fred’s or Derek’s at 10:25. The doors close at 10:30. The host already had his tennis shoes on. The waitress is none to happy to see them.
She no more than hands them the menus then asks, “Do you know what you want?”

Rob wonders where the Southern hospitality is now. The waitress grabs the menus and asks again, “Do you know what you want?”

“Trout” Rob says.

“And to drink?”

“Sam Adams?”

The menus and the waitress leave. Shelly ordered, but she’s not the main character here. Her scene is coming. Relax.

Another waitress comes back with the beers. She slams them on the table, peanut shells scatter and she says gruffly, “That’s last call.” They never see that waitress again.

Rob’s trout arrives. If it wasn’t hot, he would’ve wondered if it had been cooked at all. The head is intact, the fish skin is intact. Looks delicious, he thinks, if you’re a cat.

Rob and Shelly survive dinner and head to a local motel.
They see “No Vacancy” after “No Vacancy”. Finally when they arrive at the Eager Beaver Lodge or Muskrat Love Motel or the Flying Crow Hotel they have found a place with some rooms. While securing their rooms, Rob asks, “What’s going on in town?”

“Why, it’s the Putt-Putt tournament, honey,” the woman behind the desk explains as she points out the window. Rob looks and sees a crowd brandishing their putters up on the hill. No one knows why they were on the hill with clubs in the air at that hour. Somethings just don’t get asked. Other things do.

“You mean mini-golf?”
“Sure. Now, here’s what your room will look like,” she says as she opens a door nearby.

Rob should’ve been tipped off by this strange display, but the room looked normal and he was exhausted.

The kind woman leads them around back to their rooms as she explains that she and her husband had just bought the place and had it cleaned, so everything should be in great shape. She is altogether too pleased with herself, but again Rob is too tired to care.

“Your rooms,” she says as she gestures a bit too majestically for a woman with a hairnet. The woman looks in her hand at the keys and suddenly crosses her arms, handing Shelly what logically would’ve been Rob’s key and handing Rob what had seemed to be Shelly’s.

Odd, very odd, Rob thinks. He soon finds out why-- his room has the unmistakable smell of urine. Shelly says her room is ok.

Sitting out on the sidewalk between the rooms, Rob and Shelly fight off a few bugs and lament the unbelievable weekend they are having.

Rob’s keen eye spots a strange object over by the dumpster. He stands up, walks over, and has a look. A snake!

“Shelly, I think there’s a snake by the dumpster.”

Shelly comes over to confirm the snake’s presence. Neither can confirm whether the snake is still breathing, so they leave it alone by the dumpster and return to the concrete between their rooms. Not 3 minutes go by before several small toads hop up next to Shelly. She stands up in a huff, says, “I’m going to bed,” slams her door and leaves Rob out on the concrete alone.

He soon follows suit, choosing the bed that smells the least like urine and falls into a slightly satisfying slumber.

The next morning comes quickly. The pair head back to the camp to help extract 400 bikes from a gymnasium. The worker bees are up before the riders and they begin removing bikes as fast as they can. Bikes spill out onto the lawn, placed haphazardly wherever there is space.

“Whatever happened to kickstands?” Rob wonders aloud.

The Bikers for United Way wake to find their high-dollar two wheel machines scattered in the grass. They are visibly and verbally upset. “Why didn’t you put them up on trees?” they whine.

Rob looks at the 3 trees within 100 meters. He looks at the hundreds of bikes. He smiles apologetically but says nothing. He didn’t get this far by being a moron.

The riders settle down and head out on their way. Within ten minutes, the rain starts up again.

“You bastard,” they curse at Rob, God, and each other. “If only you hadn’t made us care so much about diabetes and bike riding.”

Wet and weary, the riders carry on. Meanwhile Rob and Shelly realize they have descended even further into the depths of North Carolina. Even if the Carolinas had decent highways, it would take them 7 hours to get home. Realizing this fact, Rob and Shelly manage to sweet-talk the other workers and head out.

“I’m never going on another business trip,” Shelly says as they near home.

Coming Soon
Look for the director’s cut at Candy and Monsters