Gold Elantra, Purple Tints...Yes, We're on the Side of the New Jersey Turnpike. Again.

A little road trip never hurt anyone...those people did not drive a 2001 Hyundai Elantra that was the spawn of satan.

A few friends and I decided to take a road trip down to Baltimore, Maryland to celebrate two birthdays and to venture somewhere off the island. Yes, I know this blog is suppose to be about surviving the Hamptons but the pangs of unemployment were pulsating through my veins and a weekend away from the daily reminder of being an out-of-work graduate seemed very enticing.

Sharon, one of the birthday girls was living down there with her oldest sister on the hunt for a teaching position. She graduated from Towson University in May and spoke about Baltimore with the admiration and excitement of a newlywed. The three other girls I went with had all been to Maryland; I was the only one who hadn't experienced its glory.

So we packed up the car and were on our way for the first of many road trips planned for this fall. About two hours into driving we found ourselves on the New Jersey Turnpike, right before the Delaware Bridge with the car vibrating in an unfamiliar way. Then smoke creeps up from underneath the car, taunting us. Alex, in the passenger seat the other birthday girl, chalked it up to rumble strips. I, in the back seat, didn't even realize what was going on and Mariela, the driver, just started to yell. We pull over, get out and see the front right tire was completely blown out.

Our hero from Allstate, I believe his name was Eric, showed up, changed the tire to a donut and we were on our way an hour later hot in pursuit to Maryland, not able to go over 50 miles per hour. Taking away the opportunity to speed from Mariela was like making her quit smoking cold turkey, but after another two hours of honking cars and flashing headlights, we finally made it.

The next morning Sharon took us kayaking in the Chesapeake Bay. We drove to Gunpowder Park and each rented a kayak, which was $15 dollars for the hour (up in the Hamptons its at least double). Even though we only made it 45 minutes and we were basically going in circles, it was very enjoyable. The crisp water meshed with the bright blue sky and spurts of euphoric laughter was strangely peaceful (and good exercise). Discussing life while keeping your balance on a kayak was a nice change from the casual lunch date.

After rowing back to the beach and peeling our sweaty selves out of our water crafts, we went back to the house to change and see the town. I was ready first and was talking to Sharon's sister about the cost of living in Maryland. She lived in a beautiful new house, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a living room, kitchen, dining room and family room in a cute little neighborhood for the same cost as a one room apartment in the slums of NYC where your toilet and kitchen sink stare at you while drifting into a car alarm laden REM cycle.

We drove into town not too far away and ate at a little restaurant on the outskirts of the Baltimore Inner Harbor. Mariela and I split a spinach salad with shallot sherry vinaigrette and a prosciutto and goat cheese pizza plus two sodas for $23. Mouthwatering? After lunch we strolled downtown for some shopping, of course. It was absolutely beautiful. An elderly man was playing a trumpet and there were street performers busting a move with the harbor in the background. Okay, the street performers in NYC are definitely better but you don't see a young man clear four human hurdles or a shirtless man spinning on his head as you walk down the ritzy streets of Southampton.

There was so much culture here, so much texture. When I used to come home for winter break all there really was to do to entertain myself was starting an interest in a new HBO drama or hoping my fake ID would get me into bars with the majority of my high school graduating class. The Hamptons is a great place to live; its safe, the school districts are among the best on the east coast, its stunning, everything on the checklist of someone trying to raise a family. Not so much for a young person who has just emerged from the hands of a college lifestyle. Baltimore was action-packed, stirring with young life, electrifyingly gripping. It was like a cheaper, less populated and cleaner version of NYC.

A Forever 21 floral top and owl ring later, we were on our way home to get ready for a night out. Shottying the shower and drinking rum and cokes out of solo cups vividly brought back the good ol' college days and despite former complaining of cohabiting with seven other girls, this made me miss the camaraderie of living with friends. I could be considered a spoiled brat since my parents don't charge me rent and the only bills I pay is for the internet on my brand new blackberry, but I couldn't help but ponder the idea of moving out.

The seven dollar cab ride took us back downtown to Power Plant Live, an enormous, bright and inviting club that should have its own zip code. If in Maryland, you will never have to fight with your friends again over where to go considering this venue has nine different bars and clubs inside. If you want to Fight for Your Right to Party while watching burlesque dancers perform on stage but your friend would prefer the stylings of Tao Cruz and fist pumping, both desires are separated by just a staircase. Needless to say, my legs were sore in the morning.

Saying our heartfelt goodbyes over diner grilled cheeses and possibly every condiment found in a refrigerator, we embarked on our journey back to Long Island. Once we hit the New Jersey Turnpike, my stomach sank as a now much too familiar vibration shook the car. The front left tire blew out this time. Edgar from Sunoco came to save us dumb asses in distress while we unloaded all our belongings and sat in beach chairs on the side of the Turnpike. We stopped in the next town and Mariela paid $93 for a brand new tire. We we on our way again. As we're laughing about how only we would have a road trip plagued by two blown out tires, a kind citizen flagged us down to tell us we had a flat. We were at the last exit in Jersey and it had been four hours since we left Baltimore. We pull over to the shoulder and laughter erupts shaking the car harder than the blown out tire did. On four hours of sleep, hungover and agitated we were at the point of no return. If our mouths weren't laughing, our eyes would be crying.

So for the third time in 2 days, we were waiting on the side of the New Jersey Turnpike waiting for some man to change our tire.  Now stuck in Sunday evening traffic, our mapquested journey of 4 hours and 20 minutes turned into a 9 hour ride from auto hell. I could of ran home faster.

Lessons I learned from this trip:
1) Don't ever take my friendships for granted
2) Laughing so hard you pee your pants a little and having a sore stomach the next day is severely underrated
3) I miss living with friends
4) This blog may or may not turn into the Baltimore survivor
5) Learn how to change a tire