Laughed Until We Cried: Part 2

There we were in this interesting hippie town with no idea what to do. Our teachers had left us to run the streets by ourselves. In attempting to separate from the rest of the group I had violated an important high school commandment: Though shall not break up the herd! So of course after a while Sean and Alfredo decided that they wanted to rejoin the group and so we did. We ate at a little mom and pop grill off of one the main streets in town. The restaurant was completely empty until we arrived. We had two tables, one with me, my friends and a few extra’s and one with the square kids. I was high so I was super hungry and I remember ordering some huge burger and a coke. We were talking and as soon as I got my coke I accidentally dropped it. Luckily I didn’t get it on myself but it did in fact spill all over the table. When I told the waitress about the spill, she smiled and simply tossed me a towel. I remember thinking to myself, “how rude. I hope this place goes out of business.” This makes me wonder if the place has gone out of business in this recession. I hope so! Lol
After lunch Alfredo (gums), Sean (powder) and I began to explore the city. One of my observations of the town was that there weren’t many Hispanic folks in the town. In fact I seemed to be the lone ranger of Hispanic descent in the town. This was during my “everybody is a racist phase.” We walked around the town exploring, looking for girls and we found none. My thought was for us to return to the 4:20 parade and see if they ended their processions with some sort of rally. I figured that if we found them it meant free marijuana as I was running out quickly. We explored the entire city, or as much as we could cover by foot, looking for something to do with no avail. It was at this time that one of us mentioned that this town was “ass.” That day we re-named the town under the pseudonym that would grace the inner covers of all of our yearbooks when we signed our memories and valedictions: “Assland.”
Our rendezvous point was a park in central Ashland. We of course were the last ones to get there. Powder and I decided we were going to sit in the very front, the seat next to Mr. Griffin, which nobody wanted. The reason being that the back seats were considered the “cool seats,” not because Mr/ Griffin, or “stone-cold steve griffin” as he was nicknamed, hadn’t earned our respect. Mr. Griffin’s reputation preceded him, as stories about him permeated our school, which purported him to legendary status. Mr. Griffin was the teacher that was both easy going and intelligent. Had he owned a motorcycle and leather jacket he would have personified the stereotypical “cool teacher” role. Stories about him ranged from his adamant unbelief of time-travel to his explanation of the term “red-wings” to a seventh grade class, to the day he came to class with the same clothes he had worn the previous day due to an all night encounter with a lady friend. Mr. Griffin was easily the coolest teacher in school if not in the entire county.
We searched the town for “relax-inn,” our hotel paid for by the school itself. As a small school, our district didn’t have a lot of money. So when Mr Griffin was able to get our entire trip paid, we were not only surprised, but ecstatic to see how well the school would accommodate us. We explored the town for about an hour and a half searching for the “Vista Inn.” It was nowhere to be found. At first only Mr. Griff was searching for the place but as time went by we all started getting worried and annoyed and so we all entered the search. Every nice hotel we saw we would say, “Maybe that’s it.” We imagined fancy chandeliers, large indoor pools, a hot tub for us and the girls (don’t judge, we were just horny little teenage boys, lol). We kept driving up and down the same road and didn’t find a thing. Finally Mr. Griff made a turn toward a small strip of motels just off of the main road, we thought he was just going there to turn around but all of a sudden he exclaimed, “I think I found it.” Mr. griff brought us to the raunchiest, nastiest little run-down motel that you could ever imagine. We were all immediately struck with outrage and what did Mr. Griffin do? He smiled from ear to ear and simply laughed at our collective misfortune of staying at this little hell hole for the next couple of nights…