Two tickets for the struggle bus, please

Running on protein bars and red bull, we hit the road at 5 p.m. Our goal: Make it past Atlanta before we find a place to crash for the night. The drive was blissfully uneventful for the most part. My main job? Hide my yawns (I tried!) and standby for Pringle dispersement. [I'm not sure what marketing team decided the can diameter for a Pringles can, but I think it was a strategic move to keep all passenger princesses relevant during road trips.]

Late dinner stop was Buc ee's, because why wouldn't be want to stop at the most cliche, first-time-traveler-packed rest stop imaginable to round out our ride on the struggle bus? Toot toot!

Finally, we are past Atlanta and have given ourselves permission to take a break. We just need a safe-ish place to park. Sounds easy enough, no? NO. It was, in fact, nearly impossible. Fun fact: Tractor trailers (without a container) who park in long parking spaces are equivalent to the a**hole Prius that parks in a trailer spot at the boat launch.But, I digress.

We spent an hour searching three different travel lots for any spot we could squeeze into. With the struggle bus pushing past E, we pulled into a sketchy gravel lot and made our own spot among the sea of truckers. It will be tight quarters tonight, there was no room for slide outs or stairs, but we didn't care. With Roxxi tucked into her cubby and Ollie snuggled into the bathroom, Paul and I were both asleep before our head hit the pillow. Zzzzzz