Ah, our last full day with the RV. We had a late start on the day, scrambling to find a decent RV park near San Fran. There were no good options so we started looking for Walmarts, yet again. We found one in Oakland where we could relax on our last night, what could go wrong? Nothing.

The plan was to return the RV the following morning, so we needed to fully clean the vehicle and pack our things in the middle of the Oakland Walmart parking lot. As we scrubbed and dusted, Roach peered out the window at our Walmart brethren with horror. Here’s the thing about Oakland, and the Oakland walmart in particular: its scary as fuck. Zach and I brought a big duffel bag of trash to a nearby dumpster, and on the way back, I was approached via bicycle by an incredibly shady, emaciated man with jaundiced eyes .

He explained that he had just left prison after six years and wanted to know how much cash I had. When I explained that we had leftover food to share, he asked for cash again. At which point I left the conversation, walking backwards so he didn’t stab me. The man could then be seen biking by the RV every 20 minutes or so, like clockwork. Gotta love Oakland.

We called an Uber to take us to the BART station which would then take us into the city. Upon pickup, our driver pleaded that we don’t sleep in that Walmart tonight. He explained that it was no place for six nice, young men. When I assured the driver that Brickface is plenty strong enough to protect us, he assured us that the bad guys have bigger guns. Also while this was happening, Roach was explaining to the driver where we parked our RV, when we would return from the city, which valuable possessions existed and where to find them, and then essentially handed him the keys. Its been decided: we’re not sleeping in Oakland tonight. We want to survive until we make it to Vegas. Only then can we die.

We grabbed oysters and other seafood in the city while we planned our slumber situation. 2-star TravelLodge that essentially pays you to sleep on their cum-stained sheets and blankets and dry off with their cum-stained towels? I’m down. So was everyone else. We couldn’t sightsee much since Bob only had one available leg so we decided to save the touristy stuff for later.

The RV was still parked at the Oakland Walmart when we returned, with hardly any shattered windows. We drove it over to the hotel with plans to unload our stuff and go out on the town. What ended up happening instead is that we all stayed in, ordered pizza, and watched Geoffrey get drunk by himself and translate the Chinese television channel to us.

One of the Chinese soap operas had a royal character who got excessively drunk and pulled random girls aside to invade their personal space while whispering in their ears. So we ended our time with the RV by finding Brickface’s doppelganger.

We passed out early with the plan to return the RV in the morning, frolic around San Francisco, and then fly to Vegas for a Dillon Francis pool party. I know the whole saying about what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. But that rule doesn’t apply to smelliots.