Ok, I'm finally getting around to the final installment of this damn thing. And I'm really only doing this because I want to tell you one thing: Americans have fat asses. Not round, "juicy" J.Lo asses. Big, fat, beanbag-chair-shaped-please-don't-sit-next-to-me-on-the-subway-clown-pants-fit-me-just-right asses. We awoke on Sunday morning ready to head back to Boston. We look outside and see about 5 inches of snow on the ground. Now, in New England, this would not be a big deal. But as we get outside, we realize that they do not plow in DC. Not only is there 5 inches of snow on the ground, there is also 5 inches on the roads and it just keeps coming down. It takes us over an hour to reach the beltway. Once we are on it, we see several cars attempting to get on, only to be stuck in a snow bank because the entrance ramp has been plowed over. There are SUVs in ditches about every quarter mile. Six hours later, we are only in North East Maryland. This is apparently also the name of the town in which we are forced to stop as I-95 in Delaware has been completely shut down. We get a room at the local motel which seems to cater mainly to truckers as there is a genuine truck stop at the bottom of the hill. As we cannot drive and pretty much everything else is closed, we are forced to spend a good deal of time at said truck stop. We eat at the restaurant and are served the worst food I've had in recent memory by a surly local teen. The restaurant is managed by a man with an ass that must measure a meter across at least, who chats with the regulars at the counter, one of whom takes up two stools with his equally huge ass. What appears to be a couple of sisters sit at the booth in front of us, both wearing matching sweat shirt/sweat pant ensembles that show off their hefty gunts (this is a combination of "gut" and "cunt," also known as "fat upper pussy" or "front butt.") After eating, we head into the weird trucker store which sells anything a trucker could need, apparently. Among the Armor-All, Molly Hatchet tapes, and beaded seat covers, is a rack of belts that are as tall as me. Another rack contains what we have now come to know as the world's largest pair of pants. The waist was 56" and the inseam was 32". And, miracle of miracles, they were only $9.99! You would think the denim alone would run you that much, never mind the fine workmanship. For some reason, we do not buy these pants and hang them in our practice space. Probably, it's because every time we find something funny and show it to one another, we get dirty looks from the staff who all seem like recovering heroin addicts or parolees. We do not want to get shivved. So instead we head back to the hotel room to watch Goldmember. Mole-ymole-ymole-ymole-y. One more 12 hour drive through still falling snow and we arrive home, sadder but wiser. Or something.