Ladies and Gentlemen, labor day weekend has arrived.
Rejoice in your gleeful escape from keyboard crunching (you’ll probably still write emails), screen comatose (100 dollars says you watch some TV), and baby eating bastard like supervisors (your going to meet family this weekend right, your totally screwed).
The American Automobile Association predicts that 34.4 million people will be traveling at least 50 miles away from home this year over the Labor Day weekend — a nearly 10 percent increase from last year.
I can only imagine the hordes of children in backseats playing Nintendo DS while their parents contemplate the best way to leave the children with the unsuspecting extended family in an attempt to break loose in the local town and party till the break of dawn.
I have fond memories of trips to the Canadian coastline to revel in the lakes of Michigan via kayaks, go on hunts for snipes that Uncle Jack failed to mentioned exist only between the hours of 10pm and 2:30am, and of course, enjoy a massive feast of all food that is great and simple in life (turkey, chicken, ice cream, and generally all things that I will perform sexual favors for)
Am I a self hating traveler? No, of course not. I love the labor day road trips as much as the next glutton for punishment who is busy packing their car with every conceivable toiletry, Pringles can, and overcasting swimwear.
I fucking live to travel people
So what instructions do I have for you on this fine holiday weekend?
Go out my faithful lemmings and enjoy the sun, rain, misunderstood family, and generally amazing grill food (nothing is more simple and beautiful in the food world than apple pie and hot dogs)
Its your damn American Duty
I expect a full report on your weekend festivities as I will be required to vicariously live through you as I stay in the warm summer and get some much needed R&R, plan my next epic adventure, and eat some damn good (and free) food.
Labor day glory awaits