Road Trip
Chapter 57

Copyright© 2017 by Old Man with a Pen

Mistakes are made everyday. An executive rather high up the ladder of a British recording company had a daughter who, suffering from access to an excess of money and possessing a slightly wild nature, decided that an American Education might be just the thing.

A phrase often heard in the United States, “Don’t let the University get in the way of your education,” sounded like a motto she could whole heartedly embrace.

Besides, no British University was beating a path to her door with acceptance letters. Daddy, realizing that slightly wild Jane, would most certainly soon become “Madcap Jane” if she was forced to remain at home, sent out feelers to American Women’s Universities ... solely Women’s Universities and Sweet Briar of Virginia was willing ... for suitable pecuniary offerings ... to accept the daughter of so prestigious an executive. Besides ... the money was under the table.

Since the Beatles, who were turned down by Decca, a monumental mistake, and The Rolling Stones, signed by Decca, everyones favorite bad boys had made glowing reports of the American R&R scene, Jane agreed. Sweet Briar was only 12 miles from Lynchburg ... and everyone knows that Jack Daniel’s Black is made in Lynchburg.

The airlines refused her luggage. In the ensuing debacle Jane missed Fall enrollment. The four and a half months of Jane at home taught Daddy a lesson.

Two weeks before the beginning of Spring Term, Daddy sent her by Liner, Britannia Rules the Waves. The North Atlantic in January ... Jane was decidedly unimpressed.

Jane was disappointed with Sweet Briar.

Jane’s roommate was a bigger snob than Jane.

Strike one.

Jack Daniels wasn’t made in Virginia. Gentleman Jack is a Tennessee native.

Strike two.

Sweet Briar has no close Male University counterpart.

Strike three.

However, enrollment at the half was only three weeks before Spring Break.

“Men?

“Thousands of ‘em.”

“When do we leave?”

“Friday week.”

“I’d better pack.”

“Swimwear, tee shirts and shoes.”

“Really?”

“Yup ... it’s HOT there.”

Jane, a native Londoner, noticed that winter in the United States was NOT the winter of London. It was damn all cold in Virginia. Hot sounded wonderful. The drive, partially financed by Jane’s father, (what Daddy doesn’t know won’t hurt him, ) progressed rapidly. Proceeding through increasingly warmer and warmer states, Jane decided that spring was an entirely different animal in the US.

Florida was nearly shocking. Fort Lauderdale was ... well ... MAN CITY ... and NOT the football side either. There were genuine HUNKS ... probably more eligible man flesh congregated in the two or three miles of beach than existed in the whole of London. They LOVED her accent. Her partners in erotica missed the first day of Bobby and the Silver Spur ... they did not miss the second.

Pater, being a recording company executive, had access to wondrous devices not available to the run of the mill college student. Experimental prototypes from Japan and China ... video cameras the size of ink pens, recorders the size of a Zippo ... combination video audio cameras with the storage of a thousand feet of film that fit in the normal bellypac carried in lieu of a purse. Devices he could marvel at ... things that cluttered ... things he sent with Jane ... because one never knows.

Blown away by the sound of the band, Jane did not forget those devices when she attended the bar on the third night. And the band did not disappoint. The spectacular lead guitarist, keyboardist was also an amazing vocalist. Jane turned on her devices and promptly forgot about them. Surrounded by male predators ... she was in complete lust. The Laudermist was an ideal environment for a blooming hedonist. Two weeks and she had a different companion every night.

 
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