Road Trip Part 1
I feel the need to tell a story that has been kept in the hearts and minds of a few individuals, but hasn’t been told the way it needs to be told. I can remember so much of this special story, like it happened yesterday, and the more I think about it the more vivid the details become. You see, I can sit here and tell you that this is simply the tale of a typical road trip that six high-school buddies took to Chicago one weekend, but I would be doing the world a great injustice. If you break this story down into pieces, they would be insignificant. The fact that all of these smaller pieces, these side-stories, all happened in the span of 2 days, on one road trip, makes this story worthy of a Hollywood screenplay, and I want to emphasize, in no way am I using hyperbole with this tale.
Before we get started on the actual story, we have to start with the cast of characters. We begin with Todd Gillespie, the leader and consummate Chicago Cubs fan. Todd hatched this road trip plan and nurtured it through to fruition. Next, there was Bart Kukula, the crazy Polock. Always up to do anything, as long as it bordered on being illegal. Then there was Adam Tripp, the somewhat quiet, cool and confident one. Let’s not forget Brad Dilly, probably a genius, but one who always seemed to get in his own way. Myself, Don Bitler, the self-proclaimed smartass, always willing to drop a one-liner and offend someone at the drop of a hat. And last but not least, Eddie (the Eagle) Periseau, in whose memory I will dedicate this story. Tragically, Eagle’s life was cut short in 1997, as he lost his long battle with cancer.
The year was 1991. Operation Desert Storm dominated the headlines as the U.S. was finishing mop-up duty in the First Gulf War with Iraq, C&C Music Factory, Paula Abdul and Color Me Badd were on the Billboard charts, and Z. Cavaricci’s were still all the rage. The plan started off as an idea that Todd threw around. None of us were really Cubs fans except for Todd, and I believe he would have taken this trek on his own, eventually. It began innocently enough with, “We should all take a road trip to Wrigley”. “Yeah, that would be cool.” I really didn’t pay this any mind. I was only 16 and I knew my parents would never let me take a road trip with a bunch of other 16 and 17 year-olds. The idea, at least for a while, was just that, an idea. It was being tossed around in the spring semester of our junior year at Omaha South High School.
As the school year wound down, plans began to get serious. As more and more of us started to commit to the trip, I made the decision that this was something I needed to be a part of. I finally summoned up the courage to ask my parents. The worst they could say was “No”, and they initially did just that. My father, always fairly strict, thought the idea of a bunch of kids travelling so far from home was ridiculous. I decided to let them sit on it for a few days, but the seeds had at least been planted. A few days passed and I took my Mother aside and virtually begged her to let me go. She brought my Dad in, I begged some more, and finally my Dad gave me his permission in the form of, “Don’t fuck this up, kid. You’ll be grounded all summer if you do!” Tickets were bought and hotel arrangements were made. We would be leaving on a Wednesday, June 12th, to catch our first Major League Baseball game at Wrigley Field on Thursday, June 13th. The Cubs would be playing the hated San Francisco Giants.
We were to all meet at Todd’s house on Tuesday, the 11th, and we would be leaving bright and early in the morning on Wednesday. Since there were six of us, we would need two cars, and Eagle’s Mom generously rented a car. We were all gathered at Todd’s in the early evening, with the exception of Eagle. We were eagerly anticipating what type of rental car he would be pulling up to the house in. Eagle did not disappoint. He rolled up to the front of Todd’s house in a broken-down-looking, 1980’s Plymouth Reliant K. The car looked to be way past it’s prime and certainly not typical of a rental car. I wondered how and why, in 1991, a 1984 Plymouth would even be rented out. More importantly, looking at the condition of the car, we all wondered if this K-car had the guts to even make it to Chicago, an 8-hour drive. To Eagle’s dismay, we all started kicking the car. Getting angry, Ed yelled at us to stop. “Ahhh, IT’S A RENTAL!” we replied, and proceeded to keep kicking the car. Please make a mental note of the condition of the rental car, and the beating we were dishing out, as this will play a vital role in a subsequent portion of this story.
The anticipation was building as it was approaching 9:00pm on the eve of the big trip. We had all become restless and began wondering if we would be able to even sleep. “We should just leave now,” someone blurted out.
“Ha, Ha, Ha, yeah, we should.”
“You guys want to just leave now?” Todd asked all of us.
“Fuck it! Let’s just leave now!!!” we all decided.
With that, Dilly and Tripp piled into Todd’s Ford Tempo, Bart and I reluctantly hopped into Eagle’s Plymouth rental piece of crap, and we were off…
Stay tuned for Part 2…. On the Road