Journey to England Part IV

Part III Part II Part I

We waited in the little breakdown lane area just before the on ramp. There was a constant stream of traffic so I figured it wouldn't be too long before we got picked up. We had our little sign that said "Sheffield" and we put on our brightest smiles. Fairly quickly, we realized there was a slight problem. Mike had been successful hitching in Ireland, but he'd been with a girl. A guy and a girl hitchhiking scores you a lot more points in the "probably not serial killers" department than two guys does, and even after I tried to look as feminine as possible, about 25 minutes worth of steady traffic went by with no luck. 

I don't understand.

Another thing to remember was that it wasn't the 70s anymore. You may remember the spring/summer of 2008 being the time at which gas was the most expensive. People were paying a lot for their "litres" of "petrol" and weren't so quick to offer people free rides.  It probably didn't help that neither of us had shaved in a few days either. 

LOL PICK ME UP

The cards were stacked against us, but hooray! Somebody finally pulled over! A taxi. We were momentarily excited, but then we realized what it was and thought "oh fuck he's gonna want money" So we ambled over expecting to say "we were actually kind of hoping to get there for free" which would have sounded really dumb, but obviously he knew we were hitchhiking. He was off the clock, and just needed to drive to Sheffield for a new engine, presumably for a different car.

"Almost there fellas."

Our first successful hitchhike! We were pretty excited. After an uneventful ride, we were dropped in the middle of downtown Sheffield. We had another few hours to kill before Mike's friend Ross was available. Well how convenient, there was this weird ass art gallery exhibit right next to the town square. This place, called "The New Galleries" had a map room, a metalworking room, and some other modern art that they actually encouraged us to touch! I wondered how far they'd let us take this.

YOU SAID I COULD TOUCH IT

We met up with Ross and started the trek back to his apartment. I was relieved to get the Rosetta Stone pack off my back again. The three of us figured out the game plan for the night, Ross called his friends, who called their friend, whose name I don't recall, but he had an American friend with him! NO WAY. Her name was Ebony, who was, ironically, white. She was also, as it turns out, stupid and annoying. But after going to something like every bar in Sheffield, the seven of us were all in good spirits. 

Except for when Mike found something surprising in his drink.

We eventually stumbled home. Keeping with my habit of thinking 'FUCK IT I'M FINE BRO I DON'T NEED ANY WATER' I went to bed without drinking nearly enough water. I woke up, predictably, with a terrible hangover, and with the knowledge that the day ahead involved hitchhiking some more, with the heavy ass backpack, from Sheffield to Lancaster.

It was actually about 100 miles. Still, we had our work cut out for us, and our serial killer beards were only getting longer.