Ok, so some bitch named Arlene fucked up the entire weekend. We leave from Pensacola just after 9am (but I was woke up at like 6...evidently I'm the only one who is able to pack the car.) and take that 150 mile trip to Prattville. Meet up with my aunt, grab some McD's and head out again. Oh, BTW, did I mention that it was pouring down rain the whole time? I hate driving. I really hate driving in the rain. The rain stops for maybe a total of 7 seconds the entire trip up there, until, of course after we've unpacked the car, in the rain, and gotten into the..."CABIN" at the "RESORT." It was a shitty little apartment you couldn't rent out for 100 bucks a month, in a fucking TRAILER PARK! That's not a joke, people! There were 4 apartments, two ground level, two upstairs, and the entire rest of the "RESORT" was a trailer park. God damn, the South fucking sucks. So, this "RESORT" costs 60 bucks a night for 3 people, and 5 bucks a night per head per extra person. And what do you get for paying this exhorbitant amount of money for a place where there's no sheets on the hide-a-bed, the blankets on the two beds that you DO get are spotted with some kind of black stuff that I could only assume was insect shit of some form or another, a shower that hasn't been cleaned since Reagan was in office, and smelled like the door hadn't even been opened for at least 6 months, oh and in every little hidden crevice...yup, my favorite things in the whole world, SPIDERS! There's no ice machine, but there is a freezer by the office where you can go and BUY ice from them....for more than you'd pay at a gas station, there's no ice trays in the freezers in the apartment, but you wouldn't want that anyway, considering the water from those faucets smelled like moldy ass. For 60 bucks a night...we should at LEAST get our beds made for us at some point, and a fucking mint on the pillow, right? Don't be fooled, that "RESORT" couldn't afford all that, what with the not cleaning their little fish pond out front to the point that the fish couldn't be seen through the algae until they were at the surface. And yet, all this wouldn't have bothered me as much if I'd have gotten to enjoy the powwow even a little. The first day we get there, it's already 5pm because of the trip and having to find the place, and unpacking and all, so we miss out on a lot. The rain starts back up after we leave the apartment, did I mention that? Once we get to the grounds, it's not so bad, though. The rain for the most part let up. The ground was still soaked, though. We had to be careful where we walked, because my grandmother could've slipped and gotten hurt. Now, amidst all this, there are drumming and dancing, and I'm getting into it, even being able to ignore the horrible commercialisation of 15 trailers advertising funnel cakes, and pretzels, and lemonade, like at a county fair. There's no cooking of real native food going on, because of the weather. The blacksmith was closed down, because of the weather, as were most of the vendors. So, we stayed enjoying what we could until around 10, when they closed up and we went home to sleep. Next day, Saturday, a new day, a new hope....crushed under Arlene's big fat ass. I hate every person named Arlene now. The WHOLE DAY it rained. And I mean, not once did it stop. The rain LESSENED, but didn't stop. I'm surprised the "RESORT" didn't end up in the lake...We finally decide to go anyway and just hang out under the little roofed over area with picnic tables and shit. And I actually started enjoying myself. I was loving the music, and the dances. And man, the stories, I really felt connected. Then, the old people in our family want to go...they want to leave. NOOOO! Despite trying to work something out, no, we have to leave and go back to sitting in the fucking bug-infested "RESORT" "CABIN" until morning, when we're leaving. We get back to P-cola about 2pm yesterday, and not a dark cloud in the sky. It rained more up there than it did down here. I'm punching the next Arlene I meet right in the cunt.
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