Basically, we drove around and went to some gas stations

So, this didn't exactly go as planned.

Graci decided she was going to come with me. She was looking for a new way to procrastinate, and driving to Michigan to watch someone else buy a suit was one of the few techniques she hadn't tried recently. We started the trip by stopping for gas. I hadn't eaten, so she ran into the gas station to get me a bottled water and some Combos while I filled my tank. Then, we were on the road. Eating Combos. Talking about whatever the hell it is we talk about.

About 25 miles into the trip, Graci said something about not feeling so good. When I say that I don't feel so good, it usually means I'm getting a cold (which I typically call pneumonia, because the amount of whining I do when I have a virus is pathetic and annoying if it's just a cold, but completely understandable if it's a potentially-fatal lung infection we're talking about). When Graci says she's not feeling good, though, it usually means she's about to pass out. (She has a condition. We call it her condition.)

Is there any medical condition that comes on in a vehicle that doesn't prompt the afflicted to roll down her window? I can't think of one. Anyway, in keeping with the long tradition of "getting some air" when one suddenly feels like shit in the car, Graci rolled down the window. I pointed at the bottle of water, which, up until this point, I had been drinking, and offered her the rest. She laughed at me. "What's so funny?" I asked. She picked up the bottle and shook it in my general direction. There was about half an ounce left. "Oh," I said, "so much for the water. Sorry." I told her I'd find a gas station and buy her some more. She said that wouldn't be necessary. Then, she laid her seat flat and put her feet up.

I know you're not really supposed to laugh at people who may soon be unconscious, but the sight of her green Chuck Taylors propped up on the dashboard was sort of funny. And I wasn't laughing at her. I was laughing with her. Really. She was laughing, too. We started discussing the logistics of the impending loss of consciousness, things like whether or not I should bother to pull over if she did pass out. We decided that if she was only going to be out about 30 seconds or so, I could probably just keep driving. But, if she was out for more than a minute, I should probably at least slow down to check her pulse or something.

I got off on an exit while Graci yelled at me about how she didn't really need any water. I don't listen to a fucking thing she says, because she's my friend. So, as per usual, I told her to shut it because I was ignoring her anyway.

I ran into gas station #2 of the trip and bought a big ass water. I handed it to Graci and said, "Drink it. Now." As I got back on the highway, Graci commenced to bitching about how difficult it was to drink while lying flat. I told her to keep drinking. In fact, I told her that if she passed out, I was going to dump the remaining water on her face. "You'd really do that, wouldn't you?" It's called tough love. She kept drinking.

Suddenly, I realized that I had been a little distracted with the fluid resuscitation and, in the process, may have gotten lost. It certainly didn't help that my navigator couldn't see the road signs from where she was lying. I drove a few more miles and then decided to turn around. I felt fairly certain that we had missed our turnoff.

For awhile there, Graci was looking a little better--face not so pale, lips not so blue. But then, she started fidgeting in her seat, looking a little squirrely. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing. I just, uh...really, really have to pee. It's all that fucking water you made me drink."

"Well, if you could maintain consciousness without all that fluid, I wouldn't have made you drink it." It's important to make sure everyone knows whose fault this is. Then, we spent the next 20 miles laughing about how Graci might urinate on my passenger seat.

Long story short (oh wait, too late), we made it home sans unconsciousness and incontinence. As soon as we walked in the aparment, Graci bolted to the bathroom. When she came out, she sat down on the couch in a heap and declared that she would now be taking a nap. The whole ordeal had exhausted her.

"That was fun," she said, "We should drive around Michigan more often while I try not to pass out or pee on myself."