The Impromptu Road Trip

Genre: Humor/ Action/Adventure
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Eight of the guys are randomly stuck at an airport due to flight complications. The only way they can get to the next show is by driving there. Will they survive the trip with each other? PG-13 for humor, language and abstract stupidity. Disclaimer: I do not own World Wrestling Entertainment, nor am I in any way affiliated with the said company. I also do not own the unfortunate eight wrestlers who happen to be featured in this tale. At least not yet. I am not doing this for profit. Well shit, then what in the hell am I doing this for??

Well, entertainment, for one thing. I think I got the idea after watching the movie Road Trip for about the seventh time. Not the most original idea I've had, but hey, I've been ripped off before too so what the hell? And I'm not the best person when it comes to geography so forgive me if some of the locations seem off put.

This was posted up here some six or seven months ago, but due to my frustrations with management I pulled it unthinkingly. That's why Spanky is still here and the storylines that are mentioned are horribly outdated. I've had a few months to collect my head and I've decided to repost this story to landmark my return (how egotistical was that line?). Right, I'm going to stop babbling now and get on with the fic.

Date Uploaded: 08 September 2004

The Missed Flight


"What do you mean there are NO MORE flights to Phoenix???" the blonde at the front of the line shrieked hysterically.

That was the first thing Brian 'Spanky' Kendrick heard when he dashed through the automatic doors of the airport in the hopes of catching a late flight to Arizona. At that sudden exclamation that seemed to ring through the entire first floor of the Seattle, Washington airport, though, he skidded to a stop.

The hapless woman at the counter serving her irritable customer shrugged her shoulders apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir, but the next flight scheduled for that area is in four day's time," she said.

Chris Jericho fumed at her, annoyed that she wasn't simply trembling in her boots and trying to call a private jet for him at that moment. "Four days?? Look at me-" he looked at her nametag, "Sonia. Do I look like I have four days to sit on my ass and wait for a plane to take me to Arizona??"

"Sir, really, that's hardly my concern," she sniffed. "There was a flight half an hour earlier. If you had caught that one-"

"Well I hadn't caught that one!!" Jericho yelled in an irritated tone. Actually he was supposed to have been on that plane with a majority of the rest of the other WWE superstars, but let's just say that he spent one too many minutes rubbing that Herbal Essences shampoo into his hair that morning. "Now Samantha-"

"Sonia."

"WHATEVER!!" Jericho snapped. "If there is no direct flight to Phoenix, Arizona, then are there any connecting flights to it that I can make my appointment there for two days from now??"

By this time Sonia was beyond miffed and determined to make his life a living hell. "Let me just check," she said, moving purposely in slow motion to her computer as Jericho drummed his fingers impatiently.

The panting Spanky finally joined Rob Van Dam at the end of the short line. "I guess this means that I missed the plane, huh?" he said with a wry grin.

"Yeah, you, me, the Queen of the Whiners up in front, the French dude arguing into his cellphone over to the side and the Eminem-Vanilla Ice Hybrid a few places up in the line," Rob said with one of his casual grins.

"Hey, I heard dat, foo," Cena snapped from his place. A few paces away from them, Rene Dupree simply continued spouting French profanities into his mobile phone.

"So what's your reason for missing the plane?" Rob asked Spanky, ignoring Cena's rude and indistinguishable hand gesture that nearly poked out the eye of the person standing behind him.

Spanky colored. "Let's just say that I had some trouble while in the shower."

"Had problems getting rid of the usual morning erection?" Rob asked, curiously sympathetic and much too blunt for Spanky's taste.

"NO!" he replied in a way too loud voice. He dropped his tone back down to a whisper when the lady in front of them turned to give him a displeased glare. "I was sharing a room with Rey at the hotel," he said to Rob. "Well, while I was in the shower, he suddenly thinks that it's a good idea to make off with all the towels and the keycard that was in the slot that triggers the electricity in the room," he sighed.

Rob grinned easily. "So what happened?"

"I slipped in the shower and nearly cracked my head open on the tub," Spanky said irritably. "I had to dry myself with the bed covers and then throw some clothes on. I'll bet the chamber maid won't be pleased to find those wet sheets."

Back at the counter Sonia finished looking up flights in her computer after an exaggerated glance at her fingernails, infuriating Chris Jericho. "Well here's a couple of connecting flights headed for Arizona," she said finally.

"Well stop dawdling, woman, and tell me what they are!" Jericho snapped.

"You can take the plane in an hour that goes to Boston," she replied in a bored voice. "From there there's a flight to Detroit, then Bismark, then Chicago, then Denver, then Dallas, then Santa Fe, a little detour back to Salt Lake City and then finally Phoenix, Arizona," she looked up at him with a maddening grin on her face. "That along with layovers should get you where you want to be in about, oh, four days."

Jericho glared at her, red in the face.

"You want my suggestion? I say wait for the straight flight I gave earlier," Sonia said to him, giving him a wink. "Much less hassle that way."

Fortunately for Sonia and her neck, mild-mannered reporter Gregory Helms chose that moment to stride into the area, and saw Jericho reaching over the counter in an attempt to strangle the life out of the poor woman. Helms ran over immediately and started pulling Jericho back. "Chris Jericho, I must implore you to desist!" he said, struggling against the Canadian's practically feral attempts to break away. "That is not a gentlemanly thing to do to a lady!"

"That spawn of hell over the counter is hardly a lady, junior!!" Jericho roared.

"Should we help him?" Spanky wondered, indicating Hurri-er, Helms.

Rob shrugged. "Why not? We're not going anywhere in this line anyway."

Helms was still trying to pry Jericho away from the counter when Spanky and Rob came up to offer their assistance. Between the three of them they managed to get Jericho away from Sonia, who simply smiled at him and blew him an exaggerated kiss as he was led away.

"Do you three have a death wish??" Jericho demanded when Helms, Spanky and Rob dropped him into one of the cushioned seats in the nearest waiting area.

"Hey man, better us than security dragging you off for attempted assault," Rob pointed out.

"Hurting that defenseless woman would be a fruitless solution to your problem anyway," Helms pointed out logically.

"It would have made me feel a hell of a lot better, though!" Jericho shot back.

"What sort of news made you act so violently anyway, Citi-I mean, Chris Jericho?" Helms asked.

"Didn't you hear?" Spanky said. "The next flight to Arizona is in four days. Any connecting flights to it will actually take four days to go through as well."

"WHAT??" a startled voice exclaimed.

The four of them turned to see Matt Hardy having come in and catching the tail end of their conversation. "Yep, you heard right," Rob said with an easy smile. "We're screwed."

"But we've got to be in Arizona in two days!" Matt said as he came up to them. "Are you guys sure that there's no other way?"

"If there is, CJ over there fucked it up by goin' loco on that bitch behind the counter," John Cena, Rene Dupree right behind him, said as he came over and dumped his stuff beside their group. "No way in hell dat chick's gonna be throwin' any favors in our direction after that."

"Why don't you shut the hell up, ass clown??" Jericho snapped at him.

Rene sighed in disgust. "Just like an American to be so brash."

"I'm CANADIAN, you half-wit!" Jericho snapped. "Just like you!"

"I'm afraid you're mistaken. I come from France," Rene said, looking as innocently surprised as he could. Jericho groaned and made an irritated noise in reply.

"And just exactly why did you miss the plane?" Rob asked Rene.

"I told Sylvan to go ahead to the airport," Rene said, answering easily enough. "I was unfortunate enough to get a taxi with an incompetent driver, but then again I guess that that's a staple part of this country. When I got here the plane had taken off."

"And who were you talking to on your phone?" Spanky asked.

"Sylvan," Rene said.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Rene Dupree, but isn't Sylvan Grenier on the plane?" Helms wondered.

"Yes," Rene said with a slight shrug. "We talked about this problem, but then some completely irrational woman stopped him and said that the conversation was interfering with the plane's signals and making it teeter," Rene said, frowning in displeasure.

Rob and Spanky threw each other glances and shook their heads.

Matt groaned. "Great, just great," he snapped. "Just my luck to have been late and gotten stuck with you losers."

"Watch who you're calling a loser, jerky," Jericho snarled.

"Oh so we're losers, huh?" Spanky retorted. "Where are your blasted MFers, oh Innovator of Mattitude?"

"None of your business, you baby faced pipsqueak."

"Ooh, touchy. Let me guess, either one of them somehow forgot to play your alarm clock for the morning and ditched you to board the plane in an effort to have at least two hours of peace from your uninteresting ramblings about yourself?"

Rob was the one who stepped in before the two of them could get into a scuffle right there in the lobby. "Whoa, chill…" he said, pushing them apart with his arms. "Look, there might still be some way to get to the shows in time."

"Rob is right," Helms piped up. "All we need to do is put our heads together, and fighting will only deter us from coming up with a plan!"

"Damn, Hurricane, do you got to be talkin' like some superhero-wannabe all the time?" Cena spoke up. "It gets annoying really fast, man."

Helms gave him a funny look. "I'm flattered that you've mistaken me to be the Hurricane, John Cena, but I'm afraid that you're mistaken. I am not the superhero you speak of," he grinned. "Besides, you should talk."

"What's the matter wit the way I talk??" Cena demanded.

"Your grammar is atrocious, you slur your words, you hardly pronounce your r's and your th's, and on top of that you seem to think you're a degenerate African-American," Rene said.

"You wanna come over here and say that, punk??" Cena challenged.

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Rene LeSchmuck," Matt said.

"Oh goodie," Jericho suddenly groaned. "I'm stuck here with the comic book nerd, the white guy who thinks he's black, the makings of an egotistic cult leader, the misguided French-Canadian stereotypical patriotic retard, some snot-nosed rookie I don't even know the name of, and the dude who's forever on a natural high," he said sarcastically. "Can it get any worse??"

"Hey, what do you know?" a jolly and familiar voice called behind the group. "Never expected to see you guys here, and in such an odd group for that matter!"

All six of them turned to see none other than Mick Foley trudging up to them, travel bag in one hand a gap-toothed grin on his face. He set his stuff down and put his arms around Hurricane and Spanky while smiling around at the whole group. "Does this mean I haven't missed the plane?"

"I was wrong, it just got worse," Jericho groaned again.

"Mick, what're you doing here?" Rob asked.

"I got permission from Linda to travel around with the roster for a while in order to promote my new book," Mick said, still grinning. "You've heard of it, I'm sure. It's about a dude who was adopted back in the sixties but never really was, and then his real dad shows up when he's in his teen years."

"That's fascinating, Mick, I can't wait to read it," Matt said sarcastically.

Mick beamed. "Great, I'll send you one the moment it comes out from the publishers, how's that?" he said, making Matt want to shove his bag into his mouth for saying something stupid like that.

"What's it called again? Tietam Green?" Jericho mocked.

"Tietam Brown," Mick corrected.

"It could be Tietam Periwinkle Blue for all I care!!" Jericho burst out. "You seem to be missing the point that we're stuck here!!"

"Yeah, none of us are going to be traveling around for a while," Spanky said. "We all just missed the last plane in four days to Arizona."

"Aw damn, we did?" Mick looked crestfallen. He brightened up a moment later, though. "No problem, we can just take a connecting flight there."

"Jericho here has ruined any chance of that," Helms said dryly. "Apparently he ticked off airport personnel and now the horrible chain of possible connecting flights will take us four days as well to complete."

"Watch it, Clark Bent, or I'll make you eat that hat," Jericho growled at him.

"Yo dawgs, we gots to think of somethin'," Cena spoke up. "Ain't no way I'm missin' dat show up in Phoenix."

"We?? What in the hell do you mean by we??" Jericho snapped, jumping up to glare at him. "There's no way in HELL that I'm going to stick around with this mismatched bunch! You all make the Manson family look normal!" he grabbed his bags. "I'm going to find a way out of this mess, and I'm going to do it away from all of you ass clowns!"

"Hang on there, Chris," Mick said, grabbing his arm.

"Mike, get your hand off my arm if you know what's good for you," Jericho snarled.

"Think reasonably, Chris," Mick said to him. "It's better if we stick together. Besides, seeing as the airport isn't going to give us much help and the train is usually a lost cause, there's only one other thing we can do."

"And what's that?" Rene asked.

Mick pointed to where a car rental agency had a branch on the far side of the airport. "Up for a road trip, everybody?" he suggested with a grin, prompting groans from all of the others.

cont'd

Loved it? Hated it? Please review and tell me if I should continue it, or stick it in a blender like the rest of my half-assed fic starts! Thanks!