I found this story on my moms old computer. I think it is from sophomore year of high school. that would have been 2000-2001 ish. Wow. My two really good friends at the time and myself are the stars. My guess is that it is post 9/11 because I used the word terrorist - I probably didn't know the word before that. It was probably also around the time people started freaking out about on-line predators.
Please enjoy my horrible horrible story (and my present day commentary). I'm sure I was told to write a story with a dilemma, heroes or something of that sort....
Our parents wouldn’t buy us plane tickets to Hawaii. In that case, Christina, Heather and I decided to take our Spring break into our own hands. We weren’t going to be the only ones not going on the Senior Trip (oh how I longed to be a SENIOR).
We carefully plotted our trip for two months. The twins’ Hyundai Tiburon (for reals) was going to be our ride to San Diego, California (I guarantee I had to look this up on a map- as well as the location and spelling of Hawaii). Upon arrival in San Diego (we) were going to meet my long-time Internet friend (I think this qualifies as foreshadowing), Brian, who owned a large yacht and would help us on the boat ride over.
It was understood that this trip was going to take longer than the allotted time for spring break. There was no way of getting out of school excused and we knew our parents wouldn’t let us go if we told them about our idea, so we ran away (it was that simple). We left on March 15th, two weeks before our ten-day Spring break. In Total, we had thirty-four days to make the trip (I think I did my math incorrectly).
The driving portion was a whole new experience. We were forced to stop at intimidating truck stops and run down “last chance” gas stations. Enticed by the tourist traps we stopped at; the Largest Cowboy Boot, the Largest Ball of Twin(e), and Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum (The weirdest thing I could think of apparently). The driving task was less laborious (some one used a thesaurus) because we had three drivers. It was easy to switch when one of us became tired.
Meeting Brian absolutely left me dumb struck (meaning I just figured out how retarded we were). When we met him at the San Diego Waffle House (EW), we quickly realized that (he) was not 19. He looked to be well into his forties. However, he did seem nice and he did have a yacht (well, in that case, who gives a shit!). Christina, Heather and I had a small discussion and we decided to stick with our plan. We boarded Brian’s Yacht, “The Conqueror”(haha this just cracks me up!) on March 19th (hey that is the Twin's B-day!).
Brains attitude quickly changed once we set off for Hawaii. It was almost like he was hibernating. He didn’t go out on the deck in the day, nor did he let us. When he was on the computer he was always yelling at us to be quiet he was trying to think (of how he could lure more retarded teenagers). We were forbidden to be in his office, room or play on his computer. It felt like we were imprisoned (I want my mommy!).
Heather, Christina and I had all lost our wits. We were miserable and we had been cooped up inside of the yacht for about a week. Early one morning, Heather gave Brian a piece of her mind. She was yelling at him saying that we should be there by now. She was calling him every name in the book, and even the ones that weren’t (OOooo, fiesty). She must have pushed Brian to his limits… He pulled a pistol from his belt and pointed it at us. He was yelling in an unfamiliar language. Before we knew it, all three of us were locked in to the tiny bathroom (hey at least we had a place to pee and water to drink!).
We (k)new we had to get out of there, that man had a gun (no shit Sherlock!). There was a small window about the size of a breadbox (haha). It was our only escape. Unfortunately we had nowhere to escape to. We though of many ideas, the first few were way too impractical (I really want to know what they were though!!). The next couple we decent, but we were afraid Brian would hear things, such as the shattering of glass.
We never came up with a set plan, but that worked out just fine. It was really quiet one night; we figured that Brian was asleep. Things just seemed to work. I took off my shoe and shattered the window with its hard heel. We were quiet for a moment to see if Brian heard. He did not. It was night and we had to quickly think of a way to be seen. There was one way and only one way, fire. The three off us began to work (I say the three of us, but apparently Heather did not help). Christina took the hair dryer out from under the counter and plugged it in. I took of my tee shirt and held it extremely close to the drier. It seemed like an eternity before it caught on fire, but it was only about a minute in actuality. I hung the blazing shirt outside the window from a jagged piece of glass (SO risky and SO brave). All we could do was sit there (especially Heather), watch the smoke rise and pray to God that someone out there would see our signal.
It turns out some one did see our signal; it was the U.S. Cost Guard (Damn, I was hoping for Pirates or Brad Pitt). They stormed the boat and came to our rescue. They notified our families and questioned us about the incident. We later found out that “Brian” was one of the men on the Most Wanted Terrorists list (GHASP). When we arrived home we were known as teenage heroines. We helped catch one of the World’s most feared villains. Everyone was thanking and congratulating us, even our parents. Lucky for us, our parents were too caught up in our fame and glory (Kind of like Goonies). They seemed to look past the fact that we ran away, drove across country and met up with a guy that I met online.
The three of us received a handsome reward for our efforts. We divided it up and each had more than enough to make the trip to Hawaii by plane. Since we got home before spring break started we did just that. We flew to Hawaii, and burnt a lovely hole in our pockets with all the cash that we had (We also me up with my internet friend bob. He promised to show us around town in his limo).