Exit 3

And so we return from a fantastic long weekend with Grammie and Grampie in Florida. We had sunny skies, warm water and no oil, and lots of quality time with G&G. But it just wouldn't be a roadtrip without one glitch. So to Eugene at Exit 3's chicken fast food place, I say thank you for cleaning up Cole's projectile vomit. And for seeming happy to do it. To the rest of the patrons in the place, so sorry, we weren't happy about it either. You may have noticed that your looks of disgust really didn't stop the second wave of vomiting, nor did it make any of the clean-up faster. I pitied you for having your lunch interrupted in the most disgusting manner, but after seeing your reaction I now also pity you for not being smart enough to move your food to a table in the other (empty) half of the restaurant. So, please spare me the looks of disgust, you could have moved, morons. 

We've recovered from the interstate intestinal demons, and once the vomit laundry is cleaned, we'll tell you all about our sunny goodness.