I thought I knew how much I hated movers before...

Well, the roadtrip got off to a bit of a slow start. We were hoping to be on the road to Vegas by 3pm yesterday. Unfortunately, first the movers were two hours late showing up. Then after loading all my stuff into their truck for four hours I was informed that they wanted to charge me TWICE the original quote. WHAT!? A call had to be made to headquarters and which point I got the pleasure of speaking with the manager, Roy. Let's just say Roy is something of a cross between the boss in Office Space and the principal in Ferris Bueller, and he LOVES to hear himself talk. LOVES. I can now tell you all about not only all the federal regulations that moving companies have to abide to, but also his top ten customer horror stories, as well as all about Roy's own personal move about six months ago. I wanted to kill myself. Erin did a great job keeping me from FREAKING out on him, but I'll tell you I was flat on the floor of my empty apartment trying not to scream. After an hour and a half I finally managed to get him to knock a little bit off the price - certainly not 90mins of my life worth, but it was the principle of the matter. 

At this point it was 5pm and there was no way in hell that we were going to hit the road only to sit in LA traffic for hours inching our way to Las Vegas. So we elected to have one last delicious Main Street dinner at La Vecchia with Lindsay and Mandi. We said our (tearful) goodbyes and left H, only to grab Pinkberry and gas and then have to return to the apartment for one last pit stop before getting on the road.