Part I

The first stop on our vacation was beautiful, scenic Niagara Falls. We stuffed all five of ourselves and our luggage into our 1980 Mercury Cougar and set out from our suburban Chicago home just before sunrise. Considering it was midsummer, that was quite early. Quite. But we had a schedule, people! We had to make it to Niagara Falls, New York by nightfall.

Despite the early hour, our trip's beginning was uneventful. While there were a few Mick Jagger references early on in our travels, nothing suggested the trip would be anything but pleasurable. I mean, the natural wonder of Niagara Falls, the urban sophistication of Boston, the lovely beaches of Cape Cod, the history, the charm of New England; what could possibly go wrong?

Then we stopped at Hardee's for lunch.

The vomiting started almost immediately after we got settled into our motel room, but not before I had the opportunity to swig down a can of generic black cherry soda from our family cooler. Just to add some color. Yep, not much else beats vomiting up a rancid fast food hamburger and black cherry soda. I can feel it to this day, like the southern comfort, and the upside-down-margarita that came rightside up onto the Eisenhower Expressway when I was 21. It was memorable, indeed.

Then we viewed the Falls, took a day trip to the Canadian side, and continued on to Boston the next day. Which is when our horror begins escalating, of course. (When I say "our," I really mean "my.")