The hubby and I made a trip up to NY this weekend and decided to stop for a relaxing break at a rest stop in Delaware. Wow. The Delaware rest stop appears to be the local hang-out for drug addicts and a prime recruiting stop for the Jerry Springer show. Within steps from the car, we were approached my Mr. and Mrs. Meth-face. They were probably in their early 20s with the chick appearing pregnant (that kid is going to be f*cked up), and their faces and teeth stinking of meth. Dude had boils on his face from picking at his meth-bugs and their teeth looked like they had come straight out of a bad fairy tale and were looking to steal my soul.
Mr. Meth-face then started ranting about how he and his pregnant girlfriend were trying to get to her parents’ house but ran out of gas. Mrs. Meth-face added that her “college credit card” was not working. Umm . . . call me a snob, but somehow I don’t think they were in college. The only college I see those two enrolled in would be the University of I Heart Byproducts of Sudafed and Bleach. And c’mon. Who says “college credit card?” Put aside the fact that they looked uncle-f*ckers. If I went to NASA and said, “I was reading the Rocket Scientist Daily the other day,” it would be kind of a tip-off that I have no clue what I’m talking about. I really should go back to Delaware and teach these two trash-raiders how to really pull off their scam.
Anyways, hubby gave the dude some money and we ran off to the inside of the rest stop. Good thing he did, because meth-faces are crazy and if they touched me, I think I might have screamed and peed myself horribly. And that would not make for a pleasant ride to New York. The inside of the rest stop appeared to be an extension of the outside. I suddenly realized how “yellow” I was and began fearing that people would call me a witch and hang me for fun. We quickly ate our crappy food and ran to the car. Lesson learned. Do not stop in Delaware. If your car breaks down in Delaware, stay in the vehicle, lock the doors, and call for help.