For some reason, waking up at UCONN felt like waking up from a coma, or is it in a coma?  I felt SPENT, but oddly focused.  Because of the previous 2 day fiascos where for some unseen reason we didn't finish our days, we were determined!

4:45am   Same shtick, but today the toilets are ripe.  The rash on my foot is getting worse instead of better and my eyes feel as if they may combust.  Elena was particularly "kicksome" in the night and we had yet another wondrous night of Concerto del Snoro from the tent behind us.  We were so prepared this morning for some major action until we learn of a huge road accident that will delay the release of the riders.  About 30 hours later (or at approx. 8am) we left UCONN.  It was the perfect morning, breezy and mostly flat surfaces. 

One of the pitstops was at Elena's "Uncle Bob's" elementary school.  Elena had to stand in line for about an hour to get her bike fixed.  In that hour, I pulled down my pants and rubbed some Butt Balm on it, in it, and up it in front of probably 300 people.  I dunked my head into a cooler of ice water and defecated in the little kids toilet about 3 times. 

Before lunch, Elena took off like a fucking rocket and we didn't see her again until the end of the day.  Did I forget to mention that Sam's knee injury (or so she says) did not allow her to ride...Pussy. 

Somehow, somewhere it started to rain whilst climbing up a mountain.  It was incredibly refreshing but lasted all of like 1 minute.  Armando and I just forced our way through the day.  I severely remember wanting to give up on this horrid hill but knew that camp must have only been about 3 miles away.  At the top of the hill was MECCA... a Dunkin Donuts with a huge COOLATA sign.  Nothing sounded better, not even making it to camp.  Right outside the Dunkin's was a ride person who told me: 1 mile.  ONE FUCKING MILE, there goes my Coolata.  Damn that camp.  And this is how I was most of the ride, wishy-washy much?  So I trudge on... Armando and I come up another fucking hill and being hearing people cheering.  I got so excited.  Peddle, push, Peddle, push, Peddle Mother FUCKER (as I had taken to calling myself).  Yeah, it wasn't the fucking finish line.  But, as they could see the pain in my ass on my face they let me know it was just down the hill!!!  Two of my favorite words: DOWN and HILL!  As I start breezing down this hill, ARMANDO AND I ARE SCREAMING OUT OF OUR MINDS with excitement.  There is a crowd of hundred lining the street and grouped together at the entrance to camp.  We finally fucking made it!   The first thing I see is Elena, Sam and Elena's Dad screaming for us!  We both pull over and Elena just gives me a huge hug... I basically melt instantly.  I give Sam a hug, shake Elena's Dad's hand and give Armando a hug...we fucking made it!  As I dismount my new ass-appliance, er...bike, I begin bawling.  Tears like you've never seen.  People I've passed or who've passed me are congratulating me and hugging me... then I call Jon.  I talked at him, or cried at him for about 2 minutes then considering he couldn't understand a word I was saying we hung up.  It was amazing!

That night was total chaos.  We were out of control, there was a dance party... Yeah, I don't do latino-techno-pop thankssssssssssss. 

MOST TOLD STORY ALERT#5!    At dinner, Jennifer (Long Island) was passing around her notebook to Armando and myself.  After Armando fills in his information, he tries to hand the book to Elena.  Elena waves the book away.  We all almost die.  Elena was like..."NO THANKS" it seemed so fucking rude, but really she was being straight-forward.  Jennifer would have only gotten her info. to be nice, so Elena passed.  Brilliant moment to see her pass in front of Jennifer.  Watch out Elena, those L.I. girls are a packin'.

Death by Dinner:  Mexican.  Bean burritos, cheese, rice, salsa, chips and a random apple pie.  Needless to say Night Three and Morning Four were not pleasant porta-potty times.  Do you know what 1600 people who've had Mexican can do to those things?  WOW!