A/N: This is based on a road trip my best friend and I took to Vegas a while back that was an EPIC FAIL! Every event in this fic is true, only Mello and Matt have been used instead of us. (Oh and her cat was pugsly, not Mew...Mew is my psycho kitty Kilala's mom :P) Even our style of dress is pretty damn close...though I really wish I had Mello's coat instead of a leather trench coat with a black hoodie under it :C

Second chapter will be up soon, which is way more intresting then the first lol (would of done it all in one shot but it would of been to long). None of the spell checks I tried were working, sorry for that. Please R&R. Rated M for lauguage. I do not own death note.


It was supposed to be a simple job. Pick up some tech equipment in Detroit and drive it out to Las Vegas. They provided the vehicle, the spending cash, and the plane tickets back. If we drove streight through we should have enough time to check into a hotel, take a nap, spend some time on the strip and have plently of time to catch our return flight. Simple.

Why is nothing ever as simple as it sounds?

First problem that arose... It was blizzarding. In early Novermber. I don't know if you've ever seen a blizzard in Michigan, but it is not fun. The roads were a sheet of ice, the wind gusting at close to seventy miles an hour, snow coming down so hard it was like you were behind a white blanket.

I told Matt he was driving since it was his stupid idea to take this job.

Second problem...the vehicle. It was an old-school van. Like the kind that had the curtian and motorized bed in the back. Would of been sweet if it wasn't full of speakers, amps, and sound boards. There was hardly room in the front for the two of us. Oh and Mew. We can't forget Matt's damn cat.

Also the van leaked, like leaked fridgid air in through the doors down by your feet. We actually had to pack blankets around our legs so we didn't lose feeling. Wonderful. Amazing. I was going to kill Matt.

We set off at around eleven at night. We were supposed to leave at eight. Awesome, whatever. I was supposed to drive first, but since it was a fucking white out I told Matt to kiss my ass, he was driving. I have better night vision than he does. Something about the on coming headlights...I don't know, I really never paid attention to his explainations as to why he perfered to drive during the day. All I know is driving during at night doesn't bother me, actually I prefer it. Less cars on the road.

But I was NOT driving in this. Matt was mister car guy, he could drive in the damn blizzard.

It should of taken us three and a half hours to travel west through Michigan and hit Indiana. Yeah right.

Seven hours later we were hitting the border of Indiana and Illinois. SEVEN!

At least it wasn't snowing here. Which was good, because Matt said I had to drive now. During the day. With people on the road. Fuck this shit.

We stopped at a McDonalds truck stop thingy. We were hungry and Mew hadn't used the bathroom in seven hours. Why Matt insisted on bringing the cat i'll never understand.

First let me say I have never seen so many large men in flannel shirts in my LIFE. Seriously. I think it must of been a rule of some kind, "Must wear flannel and trucker hat to be served here."

I have also never gotten as many dirty looks in my life as I did walking into that McDonalds with Matt.

Sure, we arn't exactly the most normal looking people. There's Matt with his auburn hair glaring a vibrent red in the morning light, his orange goggles over his eyes, black and white shirt, tan fuzzy vest thing, and those silly stompy boots. Actually the only things Matt was wearing that fit in were his jeans and gloves.

Then there was me. Yeah, really not fitting in here at all. Black leather pants and black leather jacket with red flames on the shoulder, furry oversized hood, long blonde hair...my combat boots might fit in, I guess.

But come on! We could walk through the streets of New York, Detroit, Chicago, Las Vegas, L.A., without a second glance, why were we getting the evil eye here? Like we were Satan in the flesh. It took every ounce of will power I had to keep from making out with Matt in front of all of them.

I would of done it too except i'm sure at least one of them would of started shit with me, and then I would of had to shoot them. Shooting people draws the cops, and dealing with cops is annoying...well, you get the picture.

Of course Matt was blissfully unawear of the glares we were getting. Matt was one of the most observent people I have ever met, but when he doesn't want to see something, he doesn't. Simple as that.

Yes we looked like steam punk and goth poster children, respectivly, but that's absolutly no reason to be rude and glare at us. We have every right to egg mcmuffins that they do.

I really wish I had Matt's talent of ignoring things I didn't want to see. Life would be so much easier.

We procured our breakfast without incident. An egg mcmuffin with no Canadian bacon, two hash browns, and a large mocha latte for me. Matt had two hash browns, some breakfast burrito's that looked disgusting to me, but hey he was eating them, not me, and an iced vanilla latte.

We opted to eat in the car instead of in the restaurant, it was a much less hostile environment and Mew still needed to use the bathroom. Matt had the cat on a silly harness thing, in the dirt, trying to coax the creature into using the bathroom. So wasn't working. All the semi's going by were scaring the shit out of the poor thing.

Don't get me wrong, I like cats, but taking a cat on a road trip then on a plane just seemed like to much of a hassel. I understand Matt's logic about how we couldn't leave it in Detroit, even though we would be back in less then a week (we had to pick up Matt's car and my bike). We didn't have anyone to take care of him in our little temorary apartment, but they had boreding places for cats and dogs didn't they? Not to mention it was a cat. We could of just gotten one of those big food and water dispencers and filled up a couple of litter boxes...but arguing with Matt when it came to his kitty was pointless.

Matt finally had to dig out the small litter box he packed and fill it with a small amount of litter, setting it on the ground (I really didn't want to sit in a car reaking of cat shit), and put the black fuzz ball in the pan. Finally it went to the bathroom. Thank God. I was ready to get on the road again, all these red necks were starting to piss me off.

Matt dumped the litter on the ground and put the cat back in the van, refilling it's food and water. He also set it's newly filled litter box in the back between two speaker. I was kinda amazed he found a place to put all of it, the van was that packed. I couldn't even see out the rear view mirror because of all the shit in it.

We sat there with the door's open, finishing our breakfast. I dug through my stuff until I found the tape adapter and portable cd player (yeah I didn't own an ipod, deal with it). The only shit on the radio was christian gospel and country music, and I was so not listening to either of those. The van was so old it didn't have a cd palyer, it did have a tape player and an eight track player though. I still can't believe people actually ever used eight tracks.

Matt pulled out his psp and lit up a cigarette, goggles firmly in place, blanket wrapped around his legs. I put in an old Deftones cd and we were off to Illinois.


The thing about Illinois is it's boreing. REALLY boreing. Chicago was cool, but the rest of the state, not so much. Luckly there was no one on the road, big suprise. I suppose it's kinda pretty though, rolling hills with forests and grass, but not much else.

A hour into Illinois and I was convinced those bastards at McDonalds had poisoned my food. I really felt like I had to puke, stomach rolling. Matt was passed out cold next to me, psp still in his hands. Finally I had to stop at a gas station and try to get something for my stomach.

You need to understand that at this point i'm not in the best of moods. I feel like I have to throw up, i'm fucking freezing with a blanket wrapped around my legs so tightly I can hardly move my feet to drive (dosen't matter much anyways, can't feel my feet to feel the peddels), the heat is hardly working at all, and my damn cd player was skipping every time I hit a bump. Anti-skip my ass.

Matt wakes up momentarily when I stop. I ask him if he needs anything. He says he wants some pop. It still amuses me to no end that he says pop. Normally I would make him go get it himself, but he's just so damn cute when he's sleeping.

I go in and head for the bathroom with the intention of making myself throw up. This is not something I do normally, but I found that if I have that queezy feeling in my stomach, if I can throw up, even a little, it goes away. I'm sucessfull in making myself vomit, but not in ridding myself of the nausea. Well isn't this just wonderfull.

I brush my teeth in the nasty well water (yes I brought my toothbrush in with me, I told you my intention was to throw up), the taste of the well water makes me want to puke again.

I try to find some soda crackers to settle my stomach. They don't have any of course. I grab Matt's pepsi and begin to search for Vernors. Matt had introduced me to the Michigan made drink a while back. The strong ginger ale was great for settling stomachs. I don't see any. I also can't find any Canada Dry ginger ale, or any ginger ale for that matter. Now i'm starting to get pissed. I finally decided to grab some dramamine and tums, figuring it was better then nothing.

I walk to the counter to pay for gas, eyeing their chocolate selection, but even the thought of eating chocolate makes me sick to my stomach. This really fucking sucks. The chick at the register is checking me out hardcore, which makes me feel a little better. Even after hours in a car and throwing up, I still got it.


After what seemed like an eternity we enter Missouri. It's really not much different then Illinois. Matt is still dead to the world, and i'm bored out of my mind. There are more people on the road, which is irritating. The tums or motion sickness pills seem to be doing their job. I grab a chocolate bar out of my bag and begin to methodiclly snap pieces off, letting them melt in my mouth. Mmmmm chocolate, how I have missed you.

Everything is going smoothly, if not boreing as hell, until we reach St. Louis. I'm aproaching the Mississippi river and begin to panic. Matt told me I had to cross the Mississippi, but he didn't mention how many different bridges there were to cross the fucking river!

I try to read the signs but they give me no clue. Do different bridges lead to different freeways? Will I end up in the middle of nowhere (not like I hadn't been there for hours already) if I take the wrong one? Fucking A.

I try to wake up Matt gently, but the kid sleeps like the dead. I finally yell at him, hitting his arm in the process. He gives me an evil look. Matt is not the most graceful waker.

"What the hell do you want?" He mumbles, glaring at me.

"You never told me which fucking bridge I needed to take and I need to choose, like now." I respond, just as harsly. Don't be a bitch to me because you forgot to tell me something.

"It doesn't fucking matter, they all go the same place." He growls back at me. Told you he wasn't at his best when he first wakes up.

"Well how the hell was I supposed to know that?" I snap in responce.

"I don't know, common sense?"

"Fuck off Matt, go back to sleep. I like you better that way."

He flips me off and pulls out a cigarette, opening the little window to let the smoke out. It sends freezing air directly at me. I shoot him a dirty look but don't say anything. I knew that Matt was an ass when you wake him up when I did it. Once he has his morning smoke he is back to happy goofball Matt, so I let it slide.

We cross the huge river and start our asscent into the mountains. I start to panic again, of course I don't let Matt see this. I'm starting to fall asleep at the wheel and the red walls towering over us seem to be closing in. I've never driven in the mountains before, and seeing the steep drop offs that I keep drifting closer to is starting to freak me out.

Matt notices that i'm drifting off, despite my best attempts to hide it from him. Finally he suggests we stop for gas again, saying he will take over driving. I'm greatfull for this. Matt also doesn't mention the fact that he knows i'm falling asleep. He knows me to well. If he mentioned it he knows I would be stubborn and insist on continuing to drive.

When I let Matt take over I had no idea that our road trip from hell was just begining...