Because the guys (Paul, Esteban, Nate and Derek) have not yet expressed their experiences during the trip to Atlanta literally, I figure that I'll get the jump on that before anyone else does.  Either they feel that there were either too much incriminating activities to mention, or they were doing things they think their parents wouldn't approve of, so they didn't want to write about it.

Either way, you'll now get the Mr. G's standpoint.

We went down to Atlanta for Division II and Division III tournament from March 8-11.  Paul, Esteban, and Nate competed in the Div III Men's Epee event; Derek competed in the Div III Men's Foil event, and the god in which they worship (me) competed in the Div II Men's Foil event.

We left on Thursday, because Paul, Esteban and Nate were competing on Friday.  This was everyone's first National level tournament, with the exception of myself.  Needless to say, Paul and I (having travelled together before) have already conspired to spread some mistruths prior to the trip.  One of which included that I slept in the nude.

Although this excited Esteban, I don't think Nate and Derek was entirely looking forward to the experience, true or not.

So, on Thursday evening, we met at my house and started packing everything into the Nissan Quest (a minivan for those who know).  They thought they might be traveling in style and were a little dismayed at the fact that they were going to be chauffeured around by a minivan.  Although that disappointment didn't last long when they slowly found out that the Nissan Quest was the coolest minivan in the WORLD!

With sinful automation, they exited and entered the minivan in style with Jedi like prowess as the doors and rear hatch opened and closed at their beck and call.  They were also impressed to find out the van also came fully equipped with heated seats, a rear radio control (so they wouldn't have to listen to my music), and a navigator with a voice that could ease their worries about becoming lost (Paul has that effect on many people), as well as a nifty alert system when the a solid object (like a cat, palm tree, or gypsy) was behind the van when shifted into reverse.  It was their personal Star Destroyer for the weekend.

Shortly down I-95, we took our first rest-stop at South of the Border.  Unfortunately, by the time we had arrived, most of the stores and eateries were closed, but the quartet did manage to entertain themselves with plastic swords, Mexican jumping beans, simple wooden games that could occupy even the most genius of minds for hours on end.  So we went down a few more miles to have dinner at McDonalds.

And so we raced through South Carolina on our odyssey to Atlanta, GA, while the rat pack regaled me with their women woes, life’s passions, if Superman can kick Wolverine’s ass, and the ability to drift one’s car (although I was tempted to show them what the Quest could do).  The regular fare and discussions of teenage boys that can impregnate such tight minivan quarters with so much testosterone that the engine’s 75 mph hummm actually became deeper.

Unbeknownst to me, Cats in the Cradle is an apparently well known song amongst teenagers.  When the song came on the radio, everyone was singing it like a bunch of drunk airmen trying to pick up Charlie with “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling”.