Getting off at 465

Angola.” “Borneo.” “Czech Republic.” “Denmark.” “Uhhhh...”\nIt’s my turn to go, but I can’t seem to think of a country that begins with the letter “E.” Ethiopia’s been done. So has Egypt. England could work, but we’ve already done Great Britain, and it seems unethical to use synonyms during such an esteemed family car game.\nBalls! What freakin’ country starts with “E”? Eczema?\nSuddenly, I have a flashback: My friend Danilo, obliterated beyond belief, is peeing off the balcony of my apartment complex, while singing, “We’re Breakin’ Free,” from High School Musical. Danilo is Ecuadorian.\n“Ecuador!” I say proudly. I smile, making me look 10 percent cuter than I already do.\nIt’s Christmas Eve. My family and I are on I-465, heading to a holiday party at my aunt Carol’s house. While waiting for my brother’s inevitable “Finland,” I’m looking out the window for my absolute favorite billboard, which I know is just around the bend.\n“Herpes?” the billboard asks, as if offering fresh ground pepper.\n“Why yes!” I like to respond, in a proper British accent. “And fill me up to the brim!”\nWhile billboard scouting, however, I see something very unusual – a man, sitting in the car behind us, is driving shirtless. \nSince it’s late December, this instantly strikes me as sketchy. The man’s car is even more disconcerting. He appears to be driving Jeffrey Dahmer’s old car – a rusted, blue van with no side windows and a sliding door, perfect for catching babies.\nAlhough he is entirely creepy, I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Perhaps he has nipple cancer,” I convince myself. “He’s showing them off one last time, before they’re cut off, ground up and put into a high school chicken patty.”\n“Honduras!” my sister shouts, diverting my attention. “Okay, Colin. It’s your turn.”\nI begin thinking of an “I.” But just as I’m about to say “Ireland,” my brother Sean suddenly screams and begins pointing frantically out the window. “Oh my God! Look!”\nThat’s when I see it: The guy in the serial killer van is completely naked, jerking off. He’s also staring at me and licking his lips.\nMy initial reaction is reminiscent of Miss South Carolina’s when she was asked her feelings about kids not being able to find the U.S. on a world map: shock, followed by a good 30 seconds of indecipherable rambling. I am appalled, making the same face I did while watching the viral video, “2 girls, 1 cup.” Just as soon as my brain processes this shocking sight, the man changes lanes, veers right and takes the next exit. This is the second time, I realize, that he will have “gotten off” from the interstate that day.\nPerhaps the most shocking fact of all, strangely, is that the guy really wasn’t that unattractive. I always imagined interstate masturbators to be obese and/or wearing Aeropostale. This guy, I hate to say it, was pretty cute. Unfortunately for him, that chance, much like his load, was blown on the interstate.