Maximum Overdrive
written by Tabitha Vidaurri
My grandfather, Dan Dan, was a traveling salesman, so needless to say, he is an experienced driver. A few years ago he and my grandmother bought a 34-foot-long, used, Pace Arrow motorhome and drove it from New Jersey to Alaska. That’s right, Alaska. So when my sketch comedy group, The Sixth Borough, was invited to the Milwaukee Comedy Festival after winning the Judge’s Award at Chicago’s Snubfest, we decided that Dan Dan would drive us from Philadelphia to Milwaukee in a vehicle that is larger than my freshman dorm room.
Aside from Dan Dan and my mom, the crew included the three boys in my comedy group. Pat Kelly (oldest, Irish-Catholic) Jason Messina (Italian, won’t eat cheese) and Corey Cohen (tallest, baby). Then there’s me, the group founder (uptight, female).
When I pitched the road trip idea to the rest of the guys, they agreed on the basis that it was cheaper than flying, and that they had never been in a motorhome before. I kept comparing what it would be like to my family’s trek out to Yellowstone in 2001 saying, “It’s great, you can watch movies, you can make a sandwich, or you could just sleep.”
Later I realized that motorhome travel has absolutely no basis for comparison. Unless you’ve done it, it’s a completely abstract concept. As Corey put it, “You’re lying on a bed that is whipping down the highway.”
It was the night before we left that Dan Dan informed me that the generator was not working. This meant no electricity, so no movies, no microwave and no air conditioning, which was great because it was August.
We left at six a.m. Friday morning and didn’t actually get on to the highway until around noon. Later that night, while in Western Pennsylvania, Dan Dan pulled into a bank parking lot to check the headlights. When he tried to leave, he realized that the only way to exit was to get past the overhang above the ATM, and there was no way we could clear it. After a futile attempt at a k-turn, Dan Dan fired the engine and we went flying over the curb, out of the parking lot completely. The hiss of air escaping the tire was audible. By the time we pulled into a truck service station it was nearly midnight; I was seriously beginning to wonder if we would make it to our performance the next day at five.
As I was thinking this, a truck tried to run us over. It was like something out of Duel. This eighteen-wheeler was trying to turn around in the parking lot, and instead of taking it slow so we could move out of the way, it let out a horrifying, ear-splitting honk and went straight for us at full speed. We bolted and Jason, who had his back turned, dove out of the way at the last second.
Being on the road for over twelve hours straight does strange things to your mind. You find yourself, and whoever you are with, repeating odd phrases, as if you’ve all become subconsciously connected by the drone of the wheels on asphalt. In this case, we kept repeating, “Jah will provide” anytime some sort of question was raised. I don’t even really know how it started.
“Do you think we’ll make it to the show on time?”
“Jah will provide.”
We finally arrived in Milwaukee at nine am on Saturday morning in the pouring rain. We checked into our hotel, showered, napped, and then had lunch at a two hundred-year-old German restaurant where Chris Farley, John Cleese and Curley from The Three Stooges all once ate. After briefly wandering around the downtown area and taking silly pictures of Corey making out with duck statues, we headed over to the theater to do the show.
The Milwaukee Comedy Festival was run like a well-oiled machine. They had backstage passes and free food, so we were impressed. The Off Broadway Theater where we performed was beautiful, and Matt Kemple, the festival coordinator, was extremely friendly and helpful. Actually, most of the people we met along the way were really nice. Except for that truck driver.
While much of our live performance at the festival is now a blur to me because we were in the city of Milwaukee for only about eighteen hours total, I distinctly remember the sensation of being onstage and feeling my mind go completely blank and then reboot. I can perform our set in my sleep, but it was terrifying to realize how close I was to literally doing just that.
That night we went to The Safe House, Milwaukee’s famous spy-themed bar, and before we knew it, it was seven a.m. the next morning and time to get back on the Crazy Bus, which is what I began calling the motorhome, post flat tire.
The way back was brutally hot, although Jason somehow managed to write no less than two brand new sketches. I spent a good chunk of time in and out of consciousness in the back room. There wasn’t much else I could do. Corey, Pat and Mom all read books, but I get motion sickness, so I when I was awake just drank beer and listened to Creedence Clearwater Revival.
We got stuck in traffic outside of Pittsburgh for almost two hours. At one point we got out of the motorhome and started walking along the highway beside it. It was funny until we had to get back on while it was moving and Jason almost got run over, again. Oddly enough, Dan Dan ended up having the best time out of all of us, and he didn’t really get to do too much other than drive. He was entertained though, that’s for sure.
Looking back on it, I suppose things could have gone a lot worse, and I’m thankful everyone got along and we made it there and back safely. Yes, at times it was really uncomfortable and frustrating, but the trip was basically a textbook definition of “learning experience.” The biggest lesson I learned is that sometimes you just have to let go and trust Jah will provide.
Tabitha Vidaurri is a writer from Philadelphia.
Visit SixthBoroughComedy.com.