"Hit the road, Jack, and don't come back no more no more no more no more."
Out of all the billions of artists out there, they had to play Ray Charles.
No offense to the guy, I mean, he had talent. I don't know anybody who could make good music and be blind. Except for that guy who used to sing the Rubber Ducky song on Sesame Street.
Wait. He wasn't blind, was he? Who was the other blind guy? Stevie Wonder? Beethoven? Wait, he was deaf. Crap.

I'd ask Dave, but he isn't here. For good reasons. After what happened this summer, well, yeah. We won't be talking for quite a while. Which is why I'm here, in this airport, listening to Ray Charles, reading over the orientation packet for college.
Oh. Geez.
Why do they have to play this song?

As that weren't bad enough.
Now I'm in the airport bookstore.
Except, it's not really a bookstore.

All they have are magazines that have stories about Mel Gibson driving drunk and Ashlee Simpson's nose job and TomKat's baby still not making an appearance and Taylor Hicks and all that sort of shit and they don't even mention that cool actor from Batman Begins. Not-a-once. Man. It's times like these that I'm glad I sold newspapers. That stuff was real news. This…this is the kind of stuff that only people who watch High School Musical and love Pete Wentz and cry over songs by Death Cab For Cutie would read. Ugh. It makes me sick. Except, not really, because I'm not throwing up my Poptarts from this morning yet. Ew. They weren't even good Poptarts…They were like, you know, the kind without any frosting and they were all crumbly because I got them from Skittery and I guess the lesson here is don't ever accept Poptarts from Skittery.

So.
Anywho.
Uh…I lost my Segway of thought.
Yes, Segway, of thought.
Trains really aren't as good as they seem. It takes about ten hours to get from one place to-

OH NO SHUT UP.
I remembered what I was going to say.
I was on Facebook the other day (it is a whole lot better than Myspace, really, Myspace is for twelve year old whore girls who wear too much eyeliner) and I found out who my roommate is. He's some guy who calls himself Racetrack. Turns out he is actually from New York, but he didn't go to Stuyvesant, which is why I never knew him. When I get off the plane I'm gonna e-mail Blinkers and Mush-face and see if they know him. They know everyone. Wait. Stop stop stop. Halt. Did I just call Blink and Mush what I thought I did? Oh man, this airport is making me crazy. Sigh. Those two need to call-

OH COOL.
They're calling my cell right now. Hoooold on.

"Hello?"
"JACK JACK JACK JACK JACK!"
"OFF OFF OFF OFF OFF!"
"Oh, clever, guys. It only took you five years to figure out my name can refer to masturbating. I'd give you a thousand points, but the points don't matter. Why are you calling?"
"Because you're leaving us and going to Santa Fe and chances are you're going to get drunk there one night and gets herpes and die and then we'll have to get money and fly there to go to your funeral and-"
"Shut up, Blink."
"Sorry, Cream Of Wheat."
"My skin has the complexion of oatmeal, not-"
"Hey, look, if you two are just gonna ramble…or…what…"
"Oh, we're not rambling. We just wanted to say bye."
"Dave's here too, actually."
"He is?"
"Yeah. Wanna talk to him?"
"Um…I gotta go…"
"But you don't have to be on the plane for another 45 minutes."
"I have to return some videotapes."
"Jack, if he doesn't talk to you he's totally gonna get mad at us and when Dave gets mad he acts like he has his period."
"Bye guys."
"Jack!"
"Off!"
"He's gonna be so pissed! What are we gonna say to him?
"Just…say….no…Call me in a couple hours, alright? Bye."

Well that was only slightly awful, right?
Fuck.
I need Snickers therapy.
Oh sweet. There's a vending machine over by that janitor bucket full of puke. Lovely.

NONONONONO.
I PRESSED D7, NOT C9. I DON'T WANT ANIMAL CRACKERS! I WANT MY SNICKERS.
COIN RETURN COIN RETURN COIN RETURN COIN RETURN.

Screw it.
This is just the kind of vending machine that eats your dollar.
Great. Now I'm going to get hypoglycemic and my adrenalin will get out of control and I'll get anxiety on the plane and flip out and the flight crew will think I'm a terrorist and arrest me and I'll be put in jail and get put in a cell next to some little wimpy drug addict who probably is too high to pee straight so there will be urine all over the floor and it will smell gross.

Oh wow.
Run on 'thought sentences'.
Maybe I have ADHD or something.
Hmmm.
I'll consider that while I'm in jail.
Or on the plane…

Alright so now I'm on the plane.
And like, there's this little 15 year old slut who keeps asking me if I have ever 'done it' on a plane.
Every time I say "No, I haven't 'done it' on a plane" she keeps scooting closer to me.
Oh God.
Make it stoppppp.

"You know, doing it a plane is more fun than-"
"Hey, kid, look, I don't know you. Lay off."
"But you could get to know me."
"Who says I want to?"
"But…I…You are so hot! And so am I. Don't you want to do me?"
"No, I don't! And…Christ, what is wrong with you? First of all, you are like…11 and I'm 17. Second of all, for all you know, I could have AIDS or…rabies. Third of all, it's called 'having sex' not 'doing it'!
"Doing it sounds better."
"SEX, IT'S CALLED GODDAMNED SEX!"
"Everyone is looking at you, cutie."
"Shit."
"It doesn't matter though. I still think you're cool."
"Fuck shit. Excuse me; can I get my seat changed? This girl is stalking me."
"I'm sorry sir, we're taking off in about two minutes; we can't change your seat."
"But…noooooo…."
"You are so adorable when you're pouting."
"What can I tell you to make you go away?"
"Nothing."
"I listen to Fall Out Boy."
"I LOVE THEM. PETE WENTZ IS SOOOOOOO HAWT!"
"I love High School Musical."
"ZAC EFRON IS SUCH A STUD!"
"I'm liberal."
"ME TOO!"
"I like the Yankees."
"I CAN'T STAND THE RED SOX!"
"I already have a girlfriend."
"That sucks for her."
"I uh…I have two boyfriends."
"Really? That's soooooo hawt!"
"Ugh."
"Was that a moan? You're so sexy."
"I like Batman."
"Oh…what? But…But…What about Superman?"
"No way, chica. Batman's the real badass."
"I guess…I guess we're…not meant to be…"
"That's right."

Oh boy. This is going to be a looooooong flight.

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Author's Note: So here it is, the first chapter of the sequel. Before you leave a bad review, I'd like you to keep this in mind. When I finished writing this chapter I had to save it to a floppy disk to upload it to fanfiction. But it didn't work. So I had to save it to another floppy. And another, and it was still not working. So then I had a total breakdown with swearing and wall punching included (my knuckles are bruised now) Then after crying during a brief period of frustration, I tried saving it to a CD which didn't work. Then I complained to my dad about how we need a jump drive and I would by one myself except I can't because the stupid child labor laws in Virginia don't allow children to work. Then I went upstairs and saved it to another disk and went downstairs to upload it and my dad wouldn't let me on the computer because he was checking his email. So I had another breakdown and told him how these stupid floppy disks were making me bipolar and raising my blood pressure so high that I'm going to have a heart attack when I'm 37. Thank you. (Maybe this little peek into my life can help you understand why Jack acts like he does)