That title could've had double meaning if things turned out differently tonight. But that part comes later in this story.

Any graduation road trip must start with a bit of confusion. Complete disarray is then gradually achieved over the course of the excursion, but I'm getting ahead of myself with the anticipation of getting lost, violently turning on each other, awkwardly sitting in silence, emotionally reconciling, and then continuing on the path of "fun".

My precursor to the trip started with a realization that I did not have enough boxer shorts to last 15 days. My mother, in the spirit of trying to skim some money off what is amounting to be a very expensive trip, suggested I try disposable underwear. It'd save room (they come packaged as tiny little rolls) and came six for $1.49.

Don't try disposable underwear. 20 minutes into the trial run, I disposed of my first pair due to the uncomfortable paper feeling against my lower body regions.

And you thought that was the good part of this story. Welcome to the utter breakdown of the precursor to my trip. And the rest has nothing to do with underwear. Instantaneous transitioning period. My specialty.

A quick 2 hour car ride brought us safely up to Kingston. Here, we were supposed to get a good nights sleep, and then set out early morning for New York.

Big apples are delicious.

A send-off package was being concocted for us, consisting of mocha chocolate chip cookies. Lots of them. Batches were prepped, pans were greased and ovens were preheated.

Then.

(you may want to sit down for this next part)

The oven caught fire. And Ryan didn't start it (this is foreshadowing for tomorrow, but only I know it; including inside jokes for myself on my own internets space is slightly ridiculous).

Turns out, the preheating oven contained two greasy pans, and 3 oven mitts. Oven mitts = extremely flammable when grease is in play. Who knew, huh!

I did.

Two brave souls (not me) managed to pull the greasy pans out, and toss the oven mitts into the sink (the walls almost caught fire...which probably would've been very bad) and douse the flames with a big bag of flour. By that time, the white smoke was up to our waists. With our eyes starting to tear up from the smoke, we set up 5 fans to push the smoke out of the apartment unit.

THEN OUR FIRE ALARM RUNG.

You know, after the fire was good and out.

So, I'm considering this day one of my adventures. Who knows what happens next.

Parting words. Get it?