Remember how I said that last night’s hotel choice wasn’t my finest travel panning work?

I made up for it tonight. THIS hotel is my finest travel planning work. More on that in a minute. I just set my computer down in a lounge area, and Rex and I are going to get drinks to sip while we work. It’s almost 11:00 p.m., and I asked Rex to check when the hotel bar closes. After all, there’s only one other person in this lounge, and the bar is completely empty. Perhaps it’s closing time, right?

Rex (to the barman): Excuse me, what time do you close?

Barman: We’re open 24/7.

Rex: You seriously keep this bar open all night?

Barman: You’re in Scotland, sir.

L.O.L.

Here’s our work station, where I’m waving hello to you:

Righty then. Time to tell you about our day.

We started out this morning at church. We found a church through the Gospel Coalition website (shout-out to TGC – they’ve never failed us on finding churches where we travel). The service was good, and my favorite part was when the minister did a compare/contrast on the sovereignty of God and the sovereignty of the Queen. I LOVE THE QUEEN!

I love God too, obviously. But I’d already been expecting to hear about him.

As we were walking home from church, we stopped into an art museum. Entry was free, so we figured why not?

When we stepped into the first gallery, our jaws dropped. It was all taxidermy. Rex and Dad started laughing and said that this was definitely their kind of art museum.

Near the gun display (because guns = art?), Rex saw an animal and said, “Wow! A cappercallie!” like it’s so obvious what that means (it wasn’t). The capercallie is the largest member of the grouse family, and it lives in Scotland. It’s really weird looking – like a grouse had a baby with a turkey or something. Most people we talk to don’t know what a grouse is, let alone a cappercallie. How does Rex know this stuff?

I read the plaque next to the red grouse, and it said that grouse shooting was a very popular sport in the 1800’s. I instantly started cracking up and said, “REX! YOU’RE TWO HUNDRED YEARS LATE FOR YOUR HOBBY!” He read the sign too and said, “Ow. My heart hurts.” Haha! I’m still laughing. His ancient pastime needs to be explained in a museum.

Not all of the museum was hunting art. We also saw many famous paintings by famous dead people. I could explain all about that, but we have to move along since it’s getting late and I have a date with sunrise.

While we were walking to lunch, there were a bunch of people playing some sport in a park. It looked kind of like bocce ball. My dad decided he wanted to play, so he went over to talk to two people who were playing. After a while, I went over to investigate too. The guy and his girlfriend let both me and my dad try it out. Then we went back to explain it to Rex:

Dad: The game is called bowls.

Me: No it’s not! That was just their accents. It’s called balls. Because they throw balls. There aren’t any bowls.

Dad: (looks at me, horrified) There is no way the game is called BALLS, Christine. What kind of a stupid name is that?! “Hey, dude, wanna go play balls?” No one would ever do that. Ever.

Me: Why would you call a game bowls when there are no bowls in it!?

Rex had to settle it for us. He’d looked it up in the clubhouse (because public parks have clubhouses here), and it’s called bowls. Drat! I still claim that’s a silly name, but my dad and Rex have been making fun of me all day for thinking that Balls was a logical name for a sport. Whateverrr.

Lunch was pizza at Toni’s Pizza. The lunch special was a slice of pizza and a pop, so we got that. Rex and I looked at the pop choices, and there was one we didn’t recognize. Our new friend Megan said, “That’s Iron Bru. It’s practically Scotland’s national soda.” It comes in an orange can, but it doesn’t list a flavor at all. We decided to chance it. Turns out it tastes like bubble gum, which means it’s delicious if you like bubble gum flavoring (like Rex does).

While we were at lunch, my dad got a text from his friend that asked for pictures of Scotland. My dad said, “Hey Megan! Can I take your picture?” So his friend got a picture of Megan and two Iron Brus, which is probably not exactly what he was looking for.

After lunch, we boarded our train for Edinburgh. The train ride went well, but by the end we were pretty tired and haggard. We voted to stop for tea and scones as soon as possible. I checked Google, and there was a tea place super close to the train station. Hooray!

We stopped at this place called the Palm Court, and we asked the hostess outside if the restaurant had scones and cream (I’ve been on a bit of a quest for cream). She had to go ask the kitchen. Then she told us that yes, we could have scones and cream, but it wasn’t on the menu. It was pretty kind that she went through the trouble for us. Then we walked inside, and my jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe she’d let us in, really, especially since she’d had such a clear opportunity to turn us away. We were in jeans and flip flops/tennis shoes. LOOK AT THIS PLACE:

There was even a harpist, people. A harpist. I was a little embarrassed that we didn’t look fancier, but Rex made the very good point that no one was in camouflage, and that’s probably the best I could ask for on a random day with him and my dad. #truth

After the fanciest tea party of my entire life, we made our way toward tonight’s hotel. It’s outside of the city, and it’s gorgeous. I forgot to take a picture when we arrived, because guess who was in the lobby?

MY MOTHER.

!!!!!!!!!!!!

I told you we might meet her eventually! My dad texted her where we were staying, and she said she was about forty minutes away. We had discussed meeting up later, but I didn’t know she’d be there waiting for us. It was really fun to see her and her friend Karen, and I’m kicking myself for not taking a picture. We were in a bit of a hurry because the restaurant at the hotel had their last seating ten minutes after we arrived. Food trumped picture taking, sorry.

Dinner was wood pigeon. I could have ordered something normal, but I’d just eaten my weight in scones and cream and figured this was a good night to take a risk. It was…erm… Well, let’s just say that the pigeons at home don’t have to worry about me trying to eat them.

This hotel is fantastic. It’s called the Melville Castle Hotel, and it sits on fifty-four wooded acres. Mary, Queen of Scots used it as a hunting lodge. Our Uber driver had a difficult time finding it because it was so in the middle of nowhere. Right inside the main door is a statue of a dog holding a dead pheasant (probably dating from, oh, I don’t know…the 1800’s? I hear upland bird sports were popular back then). There are tons of hunting-themed art pieces, which has made my dad and Rex very happy. We’re staying in the castle suite, which has made me very happy. And we can afford this since we spent last night in the dorm room, so YAY all around!

We don’t have any pictures of the grounds because it was dark when we finished dinner, but Rex and I hope to go early in the morning to check things out. The light is best around sunrise, but the sun rises here at 4:57 a.m. tomorrow. You’ve got to be kidding me.

If I have any shot at all of getting out of bed that early, I’d better sign off for now. Tomorrow we go to the city where we’ll get our bikes. See you there!

As I type this, I’m in my dorm-style, one-person bed – feet on my tartan blanket – watching a cartoon about a runaway lobster. It ran away from a chef, escaped into the forest, and now the cops are chasing it because it has “intent to loiter.” The show’s got English subtitles, but I think it’s in…Gaelic? It sounds Gaelic. My dad picked it. It’s a little odd, but it’s better than the senior citizen climate change protest show he was watching before this lobster thing.

It’s been a long day. Or two days. Or something. Overnight flights mess me up. But we’re here now! The first thing we did upon arrival was attend a gay pride parade. Because, you know, we have so much gay pride.

Or because we didn’t mean to attend it. Whichever.

We got to our hotel, and we were a half hour early for check in. Since our room wasn’t ready quite yet, we dropped off our bags and headed out to enjoy the city. Just then, a parade started down the road and went right by the front of our hotel. Not kidding – it was like one of those eighties movies where you think, “Parades don’t just spontaneously spring up. Come on, Beuller.” But it DID, okay? It seemed like it did, anyway. Probably we just didn’t notice it when we were walking in.

So my dad, Rex, and I watched lots of rainbow flags and drag queens for a little while. There was even a bus of “Old and Gay and Proud,” so my dad got to wave to his fellow senior citizens. Rex had just watched Braveheart on the plane, and he was expecting the Scottish people to be kind of Highland warrior-ish. These folks were more…sparkly. There were lots of sparkles. And confetti. And though I haven’t attended many (any) gay pride parades before, I think this one was kind of big. Watching it with my Fox News father and my lumberjack husband was very strange indeed.

The parade was getting kind of long, and we were very hungry/tired. We couldn’t cross the street without going through the parade, so we finally found a good spot to sneak across. We had some ciabatta sandwiches at a small cafe before going back to the hotel.

If you recall, our recent move meant that my arrangements for this trip were a bit hasty. Well, this hotel is hard evidence of that. To be fair to me, it’s in a nice part of town and very walkable to many locations in Glasgow. It’s really not that bad. We did all laugh when we arrived, though. I ordered a room for three people, and usually a hotel gives us a room with two queen beds. This hotel gave us a room with three single beds. Have you ever been to a hotel with three single beds?! I told Rex it felt like a throwback to college dorm rooms, and he said these beds are probably smaller than dorm beds. Haha! He might be right. My feet were off the edge when I took a nap. Also, the bathroom is teeeeeny, and the trash can in the bathroom is the smallest I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s like a garbage can for dolls or gerbils or something.

Also, the toilet makes leaky noises and doesn’t flush well. So if you’re a very wasteful person (biological waste or otherwise), this probably isn’t the place for you. Also, the hallway to get to our room is tiny. With my back against one wall, I can touch the other wall. It feels passage-y, like we’re in a secret Scottish dorm room for extremely small people.

When I took a shower, I looked to see if they had any free shampoo or conditioner. They have a cylindrical dispenser mounted to the wall that just says “SOAP: Hair and Body.” It looks awfully industrial, like maybe they have the exact same one in their kitchen that says “SOAP: Hair and Body and Multi-Surface and Grout Cleaner.” I didn’t use it.

There’s free breakfast tomorrow, but Rex and I think it’s probably going to be half a poptart or a handful of milkless cheerios or something. You never know at this place.

This post might sound like I’m complaining, but I’m actually pretty happy with this choice. Maybe it’s not my best work in hotel picking, but the location is great, and this hotel is weird enough to be super cool. I mean, come on. Can’t say I’ve ever been anywhere like this before!

We took a nap in our dorm beds to recover from our travelling all-nighter. Then it was time to explore the city center. My dad mentioned that he’d like to find some fish and chips for dinner. That sounded like an innocent enough request, but it got…complicated.

I’m not sure how this happened, but it took us about two hours to find the fish and chips. Don’t get me wrong – there were fish and chips all over the place. But it was like a Scottish version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears: “These ones are too expensive,” “These ones don’t look fresh enough,” “This place has too long of a wait,” etc. We stopped some locals and asked them where to get good fish and chips, but the best place was about two miles away.

To make a (very) long story short, we ended up walking the two miles. We also stopped at – and subsequently rejected – around a dozen other restaurants along the way. I should admit that not all of the rejections were my dad’s fault. I really hate seafood, so we were hoping to find a place that sells dad-worthy fish and chips AND something to eat that never lived in an ocean. It was a tricky task. Luckily, the weather was perfect and the people watching was prime.

We FINALLY got to Catch (the place with good fish and chips). It was a nautical-themed restaurant that smelled good and seemed very pleasant. They sold fish AND chicken – perfect! We got a nice corner booth with a candle on the table, and I was so relieved to finally sit down. I was at eighteen thousand steps already today. Then my dad said he didn’t want to sit in the restaurant portion after all, and he wanted take-out because it would be faster and cheaper. Ugh! So we left our cozy, adorable booth in the restaurant section and waited for take-out. After hours of looking for the perfect restaurant, we ended up sitting on the side of the road, eating fries out of cardboard boxes. Life’s funny sometimes.

And okay fine, there was a little table by the road so it’s not like we had to sit on the ground, but still. I missed my booth.

Catch was next to a really cool park, and we were thankful to the local people who told us to go there. Rex took some pictures of a fox and a river. My dad watched some volleyball. I watched this skate park, where a bunch of people did crazy tricks on skateboards and bicycles. No one was wearing helmets, and a bunch of them were the same age as my students. I kept cringing every time they did risky tricks. The whole thing was every recess monitor’s nightmare.

Now we’re back at the hotel, watching lobster cartoons before we (maybe) head to pub downstairs to play some pool and have a beer. If I’m being honest with you, I don’t think that’s going to happen. In the time that it’s taken me to type this, both Rex and my dad have fallen dead asleep. I doubt they’ll want to get up again. Whoa – time out – there was just a commercial where a unicorn poops out rainbow soft-serve ice cream. Foreign TV is strange.

Traveling is exhausting, but we’re all happy to be here. Tomorrow we’re supposed to go to Edinburgh, but I have no tickets to get there. We’ll figure it out on the fly. My dad says we should hitchhike, but I think probably not. We have a hotel booked, but clearly WHO KNOWS what that’s going to be like. Ha ha. Mediocre planning really just raises the amount of adventure, right?

In around twenty-four hours, I’ll be on a plane headed to Europe.

I haven’t packed a single item.

As a matter of fact, all my belongings are boxed up in various locations around the house where we just moved. “House” is used here as a loose term meaning “house-looking building that’s actually a construction zone because renovations have ravaged every room like a deadly virus.”

But good news, people – I did find my box of shoes. After a week of planning outfits around my tan flip flops, a pair of black pumps, and one green shoe, I now have LOTS of shoe options. I even found the other green shoe. It was a good day.

Finding enough items to go on an international cycling trip by tomorrow will be…a challenge. If you see photos of me on this trip and I happen to be wearing a maxi skirt with a t-shirt that says “COMET PEP BAND 2006,” know that I haven’t taken complete leave of my senses. It’s just that all of my fashionable designer clothes were probably in another box.

(And by “in another box,” I mean a box in the back of a store that sells fashionable designer clothes. Which I will go pick up one day when I have enough money to bring it home).

I can almost feel you asking, “Hey, Christine. Why are you going to Europe wearing a maxi skirt and a pep band shirt when you just moved? You’re in the middle of renovations? Isn’t this spectacularly bad timing?”

Astute observation, you.

Here’s the thing – when I planned to go to Scotland this summer, I wasn’t planning on moving.  We weren’t even looking at houses. But then this house opportunity fell out of the sky a la Wizard of Oz, and we jumped at the chance. It’s on ten acres, and also the not-so-friendly neighborhood stabbers at our old house were being extra stabby lately. (Not a metaphor. Literal stabbers. That’s a story for a different time).

So now, in the middle of moving, I am also going to Scotland. I briefly considered cancelling the trip, but come on – would YOU cancel a trip to Scotland? Picture it: “Oh, I was going to have some tea and enjoy the pristine lakes of the Highlands, but I’d much rather put a third coat of paint on the cabinets while cursing the producers of HGTV for making any of this look easy.”

That’s not happening.

The trip to Scotland really started two years ago with our trip to Ireland. Rex and I went on a cycling trip with two of our friends from college, and my dad wanted to go (but…no). This is when I got my favorite biking outfit (aka pink power ranger costume). See?

My dad and I have talked about doing a bike trip together since I was a little kid. He biked across the USA before I was born, and he’s been biking ever since. When we didn’t invite him to the Ireland trip, I said I’d go with him another time.

THE TIME IS NOW, PEOPLE.

My dad, Rex, and I are going to cycle Scotland (well, not the whole thing). My mom is also going, but…sort of not. She’s there with a friend because she doesn’t bike. So I’m sort of going with my parents? But pretty much just Rex and my dad? I don’t think we’ll see my mom while we’re there, but you never know. As the great Walt Disney(world) once said: “It’s a small world after all.”

I tend to do a lot of planning before a big trip, but this time I haven’t. There have been so many house projects, packing/unpacking, etc. Here – look. My hand right now looks like I lost a fight with a hardware store:

So THIS should be interesting. Especially since I’m traveling with Rex and my dad. Here are their travel requests for our accommodations:

Rex: “Keep things reasonably priced, but go for a high enough quality that it will be safe and comfortable. Definitely go for hotels because they’re less sketchy than, like, an AirBnB.”

Dad: “I have a great idea! Let’s go for the cheapest possible AirBnB, because who knows what kind of weird crap we’d run into in a place like that?!”

See what I’m working with here?

I *think* I know where we’re going, and I *think* I know where we’re supposed to get the bikes, and I *think* I have most of our hotels/BnBs booked at this point…

What I really think is that I may be in over my head on this one.

The good news for you is that this blog should be full of (mis)adventures. As usual, click follow if you would like posts sent directly to your inbox (if you’re already following this blog, you don’t need to follow again).

I’ll sign off now so I can go pack. As the Scottish say…

Dang it! What do the Scottish say?? I have no pithy, culturally-relevant sign off! I know nothing about this culture! I’m going to offend all the people. And OH NO what if my dad starts talking about American politics?!

You guys. I am in so much trouble. But I’m already laughing about it.

Wheels up tomorrow – hope you’ll join me for the ride.

Our final day at Lake Burton dawned sunny and bright (Again. In my head, the weather is perfect every single day).

We went for our customary morning trespass, but there were guys golfing. Eeeep! We watched quietly near some bushes, and I felt like the world’s worst spy. I pondered doing a golf clap after the guy took his swing, but my dad and Uncle Jim said the shot was terrible. No golf clap for you, random man! Even though you’re way better than I would be!

Back at the house, the owners of the property came to meet us. They talked about the lake and how much fun it is to own a house there. Did we know Nick Saban owns a house there too? (For the love. Yes. We know. About a million times now). They mentioned that Alan Jackson owns a house there too, and Rex’s face was priceless. He shot me this look that said, “We’ve been blathering on about Nick Saban all weekend, and ALAN JACKSON IS HERE?! WHERE are these people’s PRIORITIES?!”

For anyone who doesn’t know, Alan Jackson is a country singer. I won’t tell Rex that you didn’t know that.

All too soon, it was time to leave. We flew to Georgia on the way there, but on the way back we hitched a two-day ride with my parents.

Family road trips are different when we’re all adults. My family has been on a lot of road trips, and I won’t bore you with the details. I will say, though, that my lovely parents – married thirty-six years – cannot seem to get along on road trips. It’s just a THING, okay? And they know it. And we know it. Now you know it. Every couple has the thing that drives each other bananas. For my parents, it’s road trips. About five minutes in, my dad already said, “Um, is Mom’s seat an ejector seat? Where’s the button?” I looked at Rex as if to say, “Oh boy. This is going to be a long trip.”

Luckily, we did some cool stuff to break it up. For example, we stopped at the world’s sketchiest yard sale:

Yep, that’s barbed wire around the sign. On the downside, we didn’t find anything to buy. On the upside, we didn’t get murdered. #success

A while later, Rex saw on his GPS that we were nearing some waterfalls. Neato. They were only a few miles off the road, so we agreed to check it out. What the GPS didn’t tell us is that it was a few miles up a one-way gravel road. Straight up. As in, my dad’s car almost got stuck. If the barbed wire family wanted to hunt us down and murder us up there, it would have been super easy.

We got close enough that we could hear the falls, but there was no trail to get to them. We had to go through super dense woods – straight down the side of a mountain – to get there. It was prime habitat for bears and snakes, and it was clear that humans don’t go that way often. The side of the mountain was also very slippery, as it must have rained recently. It was too dangerous to head down in search of the falls. Bummer!

Psych! Of course we went. Another potential Knasel family motto could be “Danger schmanger.” Don’t ask me how my dad hasn’t died or gone to jail yet. None of us are quite sure. My mom, on the other hand, stayed in the car. She was the only smart one in our group.

As we got closer to the falls, they were very loud. The woods were still too dense to see much, so Rex and I resorted to yelling “MARCO! POLO!” in order to keep following each other. If we got too far apart, we couldn’t see or hear each other. My dad ditched us at some point.

You guys, I’m telling you – this was a seriously dumb idea.

The bright side is, the adventure paid off. We got to a clearing and saw some beautiful waterfalls! My dad somehow ended up at the top of the falls, which we didn’t even find out until we all made it back to the car.

Remember how Rex tried out his water photography technique on the tiny fall by the lake house? Now he got to use it for real! Hooray!

We stopped for a late dinner at Cracker Barrel (“Dan, you know I get a headache if I don’t eat by seven. It’s eight!” “Linda, on the west coast it’s only five!”). My dad and I played checkers while we waited for our food. Rex refereed. My mom played the wooden triangle game. You’ve gotta love Cracker Barrel. It’s so interactive.

Finally it was time to stop for a hotel. Rex and I decided to have a…er… “celebratory” road trip drink. YAY for being in the car all day!

The booths at this hotel bar were pretty neat. Each one had its own TV. Now, I know that screens are ruining America and we all need to stop being obese and blah blah blah, but I was very glad for the screen because guess what was on ESPN?? Guess. No, actually, don’t even bother guessing. You’ll never get it.

CORN HOLE CHAMPIONSHIPS.

It was hard core. There were jerseys. And sponsors. These people were so into their game, and the announcers (oh yes – there were announcers) would predict plays and everything. Rex and I were laughing so hard, and we sent some pictures to the family members that were in the corn hole tournament at the lake house.

After a good night’s sleep, it was time to get up and finish off the trip. Everyone got home safely, and overall I’d say the first ever Knasel family reunion trip was a smashing success.

As I type this, I’m in my bed overlooking the lake and a million trees. Due to the aforementioned twenty-one people living here, Aunt Eileen converted one of the third floor screened-in balconies to a bedroom. We have a blowup mattress, some chairs, a small table, and the best view in the place!

Today started off with a morning walk. We headed back to the restricted golf course (it’s beautiful, okay?). The group that made it all the way to the top of the winding course included me, Rex, my dad, Uncle Jim, and BrIan (I figured out how to spell his name now). Everyone except for Rex and me had a serious conversation about what types of golf techniques they would use to attack these challenging holes. Rex and I have only ever played putt putt, and my “hit it THROUGH the windmill” advice wouldn’t have been too useful. We mostly stood back and enjoyed the beauty.

After the golf course, Rex and I canoed for a while. He found a small waterfall and tried out a new photo technique for taking pictures of water. Here’s one of the pics:

Later, we did a grocery run with Aunt Eileen and Uncle Craig. Rex freaked out when the milk jugs were pale yellow, because what the heck kind of milk comes in a yellow jug?! An employee overheard Rex’s panic and explained the science of light pollution getting through white or clear jugs and wrecking the milk. The yellow jugs are apparently revolutionary or something. You go, Georgia. #trendsetters

Once the food situation was handled, Rex and I took the paddle boards out. We paddle boarded around the lake for a while, but when that got boring I invented a new game: paddle board jousting. Here are the rules:

1. Start with your boards facing each other, one board length apart.
2. You must stay standing.
3. The last person on his/her board wins.

I won every single time!*

*Asterisked details may have been changed from strict accuracy for the sake of not telling you that I battled hard but only won three times in a whole hour.

Okay fine. Only twice.

And one of those times, Rex knocked himself off.

LET’S MOVE ON, SHALL WE?

I don’t have pictures of jousting, but here’s my dad on a paddle board:

Back at the house, we jumped off the dock some more. We even peer pressured my mom into it, and she jumped in wearing all of her clothes.

The kids organized a corn hole tournament (only my cousins call the game “bags,” which I guess makes sense). In the end, team Five-0 won. That was Aunt Eileen and Uncle Craig. It’s not even like we threw the tournament in their favor.*

*BrIan’s hamstring injury in the finals was highly suspect, especially considering that he replaced himself with a nine year old. Also that his hamstring was fine as soon as the tournament was over.

Aunt Eileen was so happy after her victory that she declared it was time for the family dance party. Oh boy. She claimed that it’s the only thing left that she really needed to make her anniversary dreams come true, and how could we say no to that? The lady stayed in love with the same guy for fifty years, invited us to this palatial lake house, and all she wants is the cupid shuffle?! Whateverrrr. We could suck it up.

The relatives looked at each other awkwardly, like, “Are we really doing the cupid shuffle in a living room?” but Aunt Eileen was super happy and kept singing “TO THE RIGHT! THE RIGHT! THE RIGHT THE RIGHT THE RIGHT” at the top of her lungs, wildly off key, even when the song wasn’t singing those lyrics. I absolutely should have gotten a picture of that, and I’m sorry for failing you. I was too busy making anniversary dreams happen, and now I’m kicking myself (and kick and kick…now come on baby kick).

Uncle Craig took us out in the pontoon boat, and when we got back it was time for s’mores. The chimney in the picture is the chimney from the original building that stood here – cool! Cecilia (age 3) wanted to make s’mores for everyone, but she didn’t want to get the marshmallow close to the fire because it might burn up. She more waved the stick in the general vicinity of the fire and then said, “It’s done!”

It was another great day at the lake. Every chance I got, I would steal away to the boat house to read. Look at this place!

Unfortunately, we only have a half day here tomorrow before we have to start heading back. Bummer that we can’t stay here longer, but we’ve had a great time!

Picture this: there are twenty-one people, many of whom are strangers to each other. Someone says, “You’re related! Act like a family!” and then puts them all in a house to live together for a week. Is this a low-budget reality show? Nope. Welcome to the Knasel family reunion. Rex and I could only come for the second half of the fun-fest that is this reunion, so we arrived yesterday. We’ve been here less than twenty-four hours, but we’ve had lots of fun. We’ve invaded a country club break room, creeped on a college football coach, learned about owning vending machines, and hey – I even got superpowers. I just asked Rex if he thinks he can name all twenty-one people living here right now, and he said no. After all, he met a bunch of them for the first time yesterday. I knew most of them before, but the little cousins are new to me. Fortunately, this house is big enough for all of us. (*jawdrop*) My Aunt Eileen and Uncle Craig are celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary, and their friends are letting us use their Clayton, Georgia lake house for a week. These are the kind of friends to have, let me tell you. This morning, Rex and I got up at sunrise to go kayaking. This lake is beautiful. We were hoping to find some deer, but alas. Just birds and fish. We’ll try again tomorrow!

After kayaking, we went on a walk with some of the aunts and uncles. We went up a winding mountain path and snuck into a private golf course (because legalities have never been a top priority for the Knasel family. My dad once joked that the family motto was “stay out of jail”). Lesson learned about the mountains – freak storms can pop out of nowhere. If this was a reality show, I would say that the producers threw us into that on purpose. “Tra la la…lovely morning…family bonding…PLOT TWIST! POURING RAIN!” It was the kind of rain that falls so hard you might as well be standing under a shower. We were all instantly soaked. A groundskeeper for the golf course took pity on us as we were walking back and said we could wait out the storm in their maintenance building. We hung out in the break room and talked about life. Every once in a while, a maintenance guy would come in and look very surprised at the group of soggy mess humans that were taking up his space. We weren’t supposed to be on the course in the first place, and we definitely weren’t supposed to be in the maintenance building break room. It was kind of like double trespassing, which I’m sure made my dad very pleased. I have no pictures of that, but here’s some rain: Once back at the cabin, mansion, house area, a group of us decided to walk the Appalachian Trail. But unlike the hard-core, I-eat-bugs-and-what’s-a-shower hikers, we merely traipsed along for probably a mile or two before heading back. My dad still felt cool, though. He said, and I quote: “It’s the trail! The real trail! Where Lewis and Clark walked. And also Bette Midler!” The Lewis and Clark trail is nowhere near Georgia, and who knows why on earth he referenced Bette Midler. Grandpa Hubert would probably have asked my dad if he’s been “smoking doobies,” but he was really just high on Knasel living. It was probably the double trespassing from earlier.

When we got back, it was time for some more kayaking and then – best photo ops of the day – jumping off the boathouse. It’s about fifteen feet to the water from the boathouse, and Rex went out in a kayak to take pictures from the water of us jumping. It’s how I got that superpowers picture from earlier in the post. He also got these gems!

Shout out to Cara for getting one of me and Rex!

Next was a pontoon boat ride around the lake. My aunt and uncle pointed out Nick Saban’s house. I was thinking, “Oh cool…your friend Nick.” No, actually Nick Saban is the football coach for the University of Alabama, which would have been a lot cooler if I knew that before someone told me.

Anyway, everyone was freaking out because apparently this guy is a big deal. Uncle Craig drove the boat up to his house, and everyone was yelling across the boat and to the kids tubing behind:

“THAT’S NICK SABAN’S HOUSE!”

“Yeah! RIGHT THERE!”

“There’s a guy walking! IS IT NICK SABAN?!”

“No, I think it’s maintenance staff.”

“For NICK SABAN??”

Poor Mr. Saban was probably sitting in his house, rolling his eyes and being all, “Puh-lease. Just let me live my life, ya creepers.”

Dinner was a grill out done by my cousins Brian and Kevin. (Brian? Bryan? I don’t even know how to spell his name… Rex met both of them yesterday). Bri(y)an runs a vending machine business. He manages approximately one kabillion vending machines in Florida. He stocks ones along the beach with things such as suntan lotion, beach balls, flip flops, etc. Beach vending machines, y’all – THAT is a good idea. Go Bri(y)an!

It was a great day celebrating Aunt Eileen and Uncle Craig. After dinner, the adults sat on the porch and talked about the “good old days” and all the trouble they used to get into. I’d put details here, but some of the stories are NSFW.

(That means “not safe for work,” Mom.)

Now I’m blogging on the third floor, screened-in balcony. Well, one of them anyway. There are MULTIPLE on this floor alone.

That’s it, I gotta make some more money.

Hey – I know! I’ll sell our family reunion to MTV, make it a real reality show, and we’ll be able to buy a place like this. Here’s the cast of season 1:

Welcome to my shiny, new, PERMANENT travel blog!

(Which of course means I’m jinxing it and may never travel again…but oh well). More on this blog later. First, what you came here for – a narration of my fast food career. Lucky for me and for the customers, my entire McDonald’s work experience (thus far) can be summed up in one blog post. (I’m not willing to say I’ll never work at McDonald’s again, but that’s only because I’m not going to jinx all future travel AND ensure that I’ll have a career as a fast food worker all in the same post. It’s just too much).

When I booked my flight for spring break travel to Las Vegas, I did not foresee myself working a McDonald’s drive-thru on a Tuesday night. And yet, here I was:

My life is weird sometimes.

My plan in visiting Vegas was to hang out with my friend Elle. I went to MSU with her (go green!) and also taught with her when I lived in Nevada. I was going to spend a few days lounging by her pool, maybe eating at the Cheesecake Factory, and enjoying the warm weather.

I did NOT order fries with that.

While eating at the Cheesecake Factory, Elle told me about a fundraiser her school was doing that week. It’s called “McTeacher Night.” Some teachers from the school volunteer at McDonald’s, and McDonald’s donates 20% of the profit from that period back to the school. She asked if I wanted to help out. I figured why not? My school did a similar event at Culver’s once. The teachers waited at the counter and picked up the orders, then delivered them to tables. Super easy. No problem.

I laughed out loud as I just typed that. Oh silly, naiive Christine sitting at the Cheesecake Factory. You had no idea.

I showed up to McDonald’s with Elle. It was a zoo. There were people everywhere, and we had to drive around the parking lot a while just to find a place to park. Literally every spot was full, and we had to wait for someone to leave. As we walked to the door (now late), some teacher threw me a shirt from behind a table. “It won’t fit,” she said. “It’s extra large.” Then she went back to talking to a customer. That’s okay. A roomy fit is good. Plus, I got to keep the shirt. YAY for hanging with Elle and a free shirt! It’s like college!

Elle’s assistant principal stopped us right inside the door. She looked a bit frantic and had to speak loudly to be heard over all the people. “Are you good at math?” she asked. Elle looked at me.

“I have a minor in it?” I said with a question mark. Because I do have a minor in math, but how good at it do I have to be? I mean, really? Are they going to have me doing Calculus II behind the McFlurry machine?

“Good. Change your shirt. You’re on drive-thru.”

The bathroom had a locked keypad. It would have been cool if I needed math here, like there was some secret algorithm you had to unlock to be able to pee, but what I actually needed was an employee to let me in. After putting on my (way too big) shirt, I headed back to the drive-thru.

Even going behind the counter felt weird. I realized I’d never been behind the counter in a fast food place before. Turns out you can just walk back there. It always felt like there was some sort of invisible wall, penetrable only by those in uniform. But hey – I was in uniform now.

I walked back to the drive-thru window, and the chick working there took off her headset, handed it to me, and WALKED AWAY. Like, adios. Out of the store.

Now, I realize that working at McDonald’s is not touted as the world’s hardest job, but you would think a little training would have been in order. A small manual? A pamphlet? A sentence or two??

I looked up, and Ronald McDonald was giving me the evil eye. Seriously – there was a picture of him on the wall reminding me to always talk with a “smile in my voice” and to try to get all customers through my window in “ten to fifteen seconds.” You’ve got to be kidding me, Ronald.

This would have been hard enough in a normal drive-thru, but OH NO – this McDonald’s was frickin STATE OF THE ART. It was one of the ones with two drive-thru lanes, so the screen in front of me had video of four cars at once: the two ordering and the two waiting. Then, on the other screen, there was a touchscreen menu with a bunch of things I didn’t understand, along with another order. And there was a car outside the window waiting for me.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I laughed. Because there was no other option. Luckily, the woman washing trays noticed my peril. Her name is Nancy, and she became my new best friend. She threw on a headset and came to my rescue.

She looked at the SUV waiting outside the drive-thru window and said, “Hold on a second.” Then she quickly showed me how to tell which order was at my window, and I was supposed to repeat the order back to the person and take money. Luckily, a cash register is almost self-explanatory. On the screen next to the video feeds, the one with all the menu items, she started frantically punching things in and telling hordes of people “Welcome to McDonald’s.”

I wanted to tell her to slow down, as it was hard to keep up with the people coming through my line, but there was creepy Ronald warning me to move those people along. Also, if they were waiting for longer than twenty-five seconds, there was a horrible triple beep that came through my headset. It was LOUD, and I visibly winced the first time it happened. I wanted to say, “RONALD. SHE PAID $2.90 IN NICKELS AND PENNIES. CAN YOU COUNT THAT IN FIFTEEN SECONDS, RONALD?! DO I LOOK LIKE A COINSTAR MACHINE TO YOU?!”

Nancy stayed by my side, like two soldiers weathering a battle, as car after car ordered trans fat after trans fat. I don’t know what I would have done without her. All of the orders were in code, so it was really hard to read them back sometimes. For example, do you know what a “CPY BTR SMK” is? Because I didn’t.

I asked Nancy, and she stopped taking an order to hiss, “Crispy Buttermilk Smokehouse.” I tried to ask again because I didn’t hear her over the clicks and beeps and millions of employees in my headset, but she sighed and said, “Number four. Just say number four. And the CML FP is a caramel frappachino.” Obviously, Nancy. I knew that.

No, I didn’t.

I could guess most of them. Then I’d feel really good about myself, especially when I figured out a new one. For example, “2-CBGR ML”? I said that was a double cheeseburger meal. Because that makes sense, right? Nope. It’s a “two cheeseburger meal,” which is completely different. Arrghhh! Stop judging me, Ronald. I see you. Excuse me for only ever ordering off the dollar menu. My McDonald’s ordering experience had not prepared me for this.

One lady said, “You sure are busy!” I laughed nervously and said, “Haha…yeah…school fundraiser.” She told me that I was definitely earning my money tonight. LOL. Oh lady. You’re right. Back when I thought this shirt was free? Not free.

One time I accidentally punched the wrong number into the register and had to figure out the change by myself (well thank goodness for that math minor). Luckily I got it done before the infernal beeping. I nudged Nancy and said, “I messed up the number. Your drawer’s going to be off by forty-two cents. What do I do?!” I was not about to get fired on my only day at the job.

Nancy shrugged. “No big deal.”

I was kind of nervous about this, as my husband worked in retail for a long time. I remember the drama if someone’s drawer was off. But when we ran out of pennies and Nancy said I should give out nickels instead, I concluded that maybe she really wasn’t that concerned about her drawer.

Then a lady came to the window with a fresh horror – A COUPON. She held up her phone, all nice and innocent: “Here, I have a coupon.” Ahhhhhhh!! I was tempted to run screaming through the restaurant, throwing fries around like confetti, but I refrained. I also considered saying, “Here, have the fifty cents. Clearly this drawer is complete junk by now.” But I didn’t, because I AM A PROFESSIONAL (sort of). Instead I said, “Uh, Nancy? We’ve got a coupon situation.” I remained pretty calm, because hey – let’s be honest, it’s not the first time that night that I was lost. Nancy put her ordering person on hold (LOL) and swooped in with her magic fingers to input a coupon.

As a side note, McDonald’s has an app where you can get coupons sent to your phone. Who knew?

It was fifty minutes before there wasn’t a screen full of cars. When that happened, I finally let the drive-thru door close. Then, about sixty seconds later, another car drove up. I went to slide the door open, and I couldn’t open it. No one had included this in my completely nonexistent training. Nancy laughed at me and showed me how to do the latch. The customer must have thought, “Oh boy. We’ve got the brightest crayon in the McDonald’s box struggling to figure out how to open a window. Doris, let’s hope she’s not the one making the food.”

Don’t worry, Doris. They didn’t let me near the fryer. They just put me in front of all the customers and trusted me with your money. Ronald, don’t you worry. I struggled with the window while smiling.

All in all, it was a lot of fun. I mean, completely stressful, but in a fun way. If that’s a thing. Definitely funny. I thanked Nancy when I left, and she said I was a lot of help. Thanks, Nance. You’re being generous, but I’ll take it.

I left, and guess what Elle was doing? Running orders to tables, which is exactly what I’d thought I’d be doing. Life’s funny that way.

Phewf! That concludes my experience working at McDonald’s. Now onto a quick explanation of this blog:

I’ve loved having a travel blog when I go on major trips, but I’ve been blessed in the past few years with quite a few cool opportunities. It’s made for a lot of different blogs and notifying followers every time I have a new one. Generally speaking, a lot of the same people are dedicated followers every time (here’s looking at you, Krista! Best commenter!). Instead, I figured I would consolidate and just update ONE blog. This will go dark when I’m not traveling, but then I’ll pop up in your inbox when I’m out of town and have a fun story to share.

I’ve exhausted every pun using my last name, and “World Wide Webb” has always been my favorite one. So I’m recycling that name, but with a beautiful extra letter. You may have noticed the blog is “World Wide Webbs.” This is because Rex has started traveling on many of my trips with me! PLUS, after his guest post in Alaska, there have been many calls for him to guest post more often. This blog will belong to both of us – we can post updates when we’re together (which will frequently include my words and his photos, a la the Alaska blog), and then he can also post the awesome things he sees when he’s traveling without me (you should have seen some of the pics he took in South Dakota). Shout out to Rex – the cover pic is one of his from Alaska. Also, this blog has a green, woodsy theme. That way, if he updates it while at Cast ‘N Blast with all of his fellow dudes, they won’t say, “What kinda girly site you on, bro?” They’ll just say, “Ah, green. The color of joy.” I THINK AHEAD.

This summer we’re going on another bike trip (Scottish highlands), so that’s going to have stories for sure. I’ll start taking bets now on whether or not Rex ends up wearing a kilt. There will also be a Knasel family reunion down South, and for anyone who’s met The Dan Man…this should be something.

If we get too annoying for you, you can unsubscribe anytime. But hey, maybe give us a try. You never know what we’re going to get ourselves into.