Greatest Hits Volume II: What Happens in Amish Country Stays in Amish Country

So, for the next few days I'm going to pull a few posts out of the archives.

For no other reason than because I'm lazy.

The posts for the rest of the week were chosen based on the following criteria: They're the ones you guys told me sucked the least.

Enjoy!

What Happens in Amish Country stays in Amish Country

(Originally posted April 5th, 2009)

Amish Buggy black! No punch backs!

A little over a year ago I went with four friends on a girl's weekend to Lancaster, Pennsylvania-- also known as Amish country.

We stayed in a beautiful private house, which had been converted from an old barn on the property of an equally beautiful bed and breakfast.

We knew it was going to be a memorable weekend when we realized that we'd be taking the breathalyzer-mobile on our getaway.

You see, the best vehicle available for us to take on a long road trip was the SUV belonging to the husband of one of the women. Without going into too much detail, this vehicle had been court ordered to be equipped with a breathalyzer. Before it would start (and also at random intervals while driving!) it required the driver to blow into the contraption to make sure said driver wasn't drunk.

And this was a very finicky breathalyzer. You couldn't just blow and be done with it. Oh, no. You had to blow in a very particular way, sometimes even having to hum and talk dirty to get the thing to register and allow you to drive. And if you didn't get it to register within a certain amount of time, apparently alarms and whatnot would start going off and the vehicle would be disabled.

So picture, if you will, five Mormon women (including all four members of the Relief Society Presidency) cruising around Amish country, constantly playing a game of beat the clock with a breathalyzer. And making the inevitable dirty jokes.

One night we had the opportunity to have dinner with an Amish family in their home. (The food, though simple, was incredible. And although she may have been speaking Pennsylvania Dutch, we all knew exactly what Amish-mom was saying to her son as he swung back and forth on the gas-powered refrigerator door. The Amish? Just like us, but without electricity bills.)

So after the Amish dinner we get in the breathalyzer-mobile to leave. The breathalyzer decided to be extra picky. It would not register. The countdown to blaring alarms and a big flashing neon sign that says "this vehicle is owned by a former drunk driver" was winding down. Plus, we were in the front yard of a very nice Amish family who were likely wondering why the crazy Mormon women hadn't left yet. Oh, and we were also blocking several other people trying to leave. Some of who came to the window to see if we were broken down.

Everyone took turns trying to blow into the thing (except me, because I'm not into sharing bodily fluids, even with my close friends). Finally one of them got it to register just in the nick of time. I think she may have promised it sexual favors, because nothing else had worked.

Also, for some reason that was never quite explained, there was a brass frog prince statue stashed in the breathalyzer-mobile. He came with us everywhere. He even took a turn with the breathalyzer.



When I moved away shortly after, he got to come and live with me. He now resides in my bathroom.