DC Trip: Day 2

We stayed the night at my cousin's house in buttfuck-nowhere, Virginia.

I woke up in the morning to find my father going loony in the kitchen. He went through alternating wild bouts of inane squealing and giggling, and settling into more somber, agitated states, declaring unconvincingly, <I'm okay! It's over, I'm okay!>

My father is a diabetic coffee fiend.

I don't know what types of diabetes there are, but he has the type that doesn't have to take insulin shots, but he goes haywire when his blood sugar level is out of wack. This particular morning, he had coffee and didn't eat breakfast.

I'm not entirely sure what a diabetic sugar high feels like, but I've seen people act just like that while eating hydrochloric shrooms. My father described it like a car running low on gas. I can't say for certain what a car feels when it has no gas, and I'm not even sure my father does. But he's been repairing cars for a living his entire life, so maybe I'll just take his word for it.

My brother and uncle calmed him down while my mother fed him breakfast foods to get his system balanced out. After the situation became under control, I took a step outside to catch a view of my new surrounding.

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I hadn't gotten a good peak at my cousin's house because we arrived in the dark middle of night, and Virginians, seemingly, have not invented streetlights yet.

The house is monstrous.

It's a three-storey mammoth of a house built into the side of a hill. A gated driveway starts from the street at the base of the hill and circles around the hill into a drop-off parking lot type of thing behind the house and garage.

From the top of the hill, you can get a 360 view of the entire neighborhood -- which consists of just this one house, because we were in the middle of buttfuck-nowhere, and my cousin has no neighbors. Nothing but trees for miles and miles around; you can't even see the horizon.

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My other cousin, Tom, whom I've probably met before but have absolutely no recollection of, had his wedding at around noon-ish. It was your standard Church wedding starting with, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..." and ending with, "I now pronounce you man and wife."

1 Corinthian 13 was not read during the ceremony.

The reception took place in the evening, and was an outdoors event in the cul de sac outside my mother's cousin's home. A whole bunch of my cousins and uncles and aunts all owned and lived in these houses all along the same street. The whole neighborhood was basically a family tree. Like if you were trying to study the family records of these people, you just walked from one end of the street to the other end, and voila.

From what I've gathered -- and I could and probably am wrong -- this little community started when some dude that's related to my mother somehow or another, came to the States sometime a long time ago. He got married, bought a mobile home and parked it in buttfuck, Virginia. They started a family, and when the kids grew up and got married, they bought mobile homes and parked it right next door. This continued, until they eventually bought land, built houses, and established one big familial community in buttfuck, Virginia. Kinda like some sort of Vietnamese redneck town.

After the reception, I retired to my cousin's monster house. As far as I know, there was no Remy at the reception.