Before Dawn
Overall Recommendation
Recommendation?
This starts off slow- not bad, quite interesting, especially if you are of an age that has loved and lost… the first bit is getting into the characters, which is executed perfectly… and then the rest of the movie says “And then zombies” and shit goes sideways with the accelerator pinned to the floor and steering with one knee ‘cause you got both hands in the air like you just don’t care. This movie is one of those “Experiences” where the first time watching it, you’re alternating between being tense and creeped out and then exhilarated and frightened. When the action starts, it’s so desperate and frantic that I couldn’t type and watch, I kept realizing that I was missing the essence of it by not being 100% invested. If they took the effort to invest 110%, the least I can give them is my full 100%. You don’t want to look away, and sometimes you just can’t. The zombies were fucking perfect in this. The acting was amazing. Got no idea who any of you are, but damn. Thespians all around. This is a brilliantly executed intelligent exploration of how relationships can either thrive or wither during an undead apocalypse. I joke about Red and Head, but in terms of zombie movies, these guys get Oscars. The script was just right. The balance was just right. The intensity and passion are above and beyond what one should expect from a small budget indie sort of effort. Shit. I can’t say enough good things about it. I mean, it didn’t have carrier pigeons in it, but there was no reason to have them. It’s just something I thought about. Like, why are they showing us nothing but trees and fields but then we’re hearing waves and seagulls? Or is that just me?
Plot Autopsy
Plot Autopsy
- For a couple on the rocks, these two seem to do well. Of course they have some issues.
- Ok. They have more and bigger than *some* issues. Why sleep apart if you’re trying…
- She got bit ‘cause she went running ‘cause he didn’t wake up to make breakfast
- She’s turned and they are not getting along any better for the change.
- After meeting another survivor, Head decides to murder the fellow to feed to Red.
- Head fucks everything except becoming a zombie up. So he becomes a zombie too.
Zombie Description
Zombie Description
Really bad Tourette’s. I mean, constantly screaming the same “AARRGH!!” at you over and over. And hella fast and aggressive. Crazy bloody red eyes. Frantic scrabbling. After eating, they get passive for a while, but it could be just proximity or possibly cell-phone triggered, but they’re quick to revert back to hungry killing machines that scream “AARRGH!!” at you over and over. These were some of the herky-jerky-est zombies ever, covered in blood with wild orange eyes… The movement was awesome. The dead feet slowly navigating the stairs? That was a golden moment. The only thing I’m kinda confused about is how Head ended up a zombie. I might have missed him getting a nip, or maybe there was some clue somewhere that he intentionally… yeah. I didn’t understand that part. But these zombies ruled.
Where the money went
Where the money went
The filming of this is great- especially considering the sort of DIY feel that it has, with long views of peaceful tranquility, and then fighting scenes of the wildly swinging camera variety, but they don’t miss their mark. Same thing with the constant close-ups of Head worrying. He’s got a very expressive face, and the camera frames him perfectly. It shows the difference between their two worlds and world-views, where Red’s is broad and engaging and open, while Head’s is closed in and shuttered and worrying. That said, the sound it kinda rough. Especially with the accents. I have the subtitles on at this point. It’s not right proper words speaking they using, I promises ya govunor! The zombies of this are awesome. I’m gonna say this one here criticism. Why didn’t the body paint cover the whole bodies? I mean, it was soooo close to being perfect that what, another tube of ash-white and 40 minutes and the corpses would have won ribbons! They were awesome as is, but you can’t use ripped clothing and ignore the healthy fleshy body underneath, especially if the face has death’s pallor. See? That’s what this movie does to you- it inspires you to great heights, like using cliché’d literary terms. “Death’s pallor.” Whoop.
Best Weapon
Best Weapon
There wasn’t a lot of fighting the zombies- I mean, there’s a lot of it and it’s awesome, but it’s not en masse, they don’t devote 20-minute swaths to constant kung-fu and gunfire. These are fast, desperate little scraps where getting the opponent out of the ring is as good as a win. In these limited contexts, as well as considering that this is a movie made by people who don’t own personal arsenals as a way of life, it makes perfect sese that there wouldn’t be guns. Take guns away and what’s left? Hand to hand fighting. What’s a proven go-to in the realms of street brawling and back-alley brutality? The crowbar. (Note- I also would have accepted Tire Iron, although I would also remind you that as well as mostly lacking anything resembling gun culture, they also never had America’s love affair with automobiles, explaining why the Tire Iron is more of a lower-Bronx kinda thing.) Everything said though, if I’m fighting a zombie and my weapon removes their bottom jaw, I’m going to be quite pleased with it.
Can I get a hand?
Can I get a hand?
Aside from a random shout, the first real clue that something is wrong is a car with bloody prints and smears all over it’s hood. This is a beautiful rendition of a classic of the genre, and makes me think of the Maximum Overdrive scene where the ice-cream truck is on the prowl, playing music and meandering through the streets… until you see it closer and realize it’s run a couple children over all ready. So good! There’s a severed hand, multiple “we’re coming through this door!” bashing-throughs,
That was new!
That was new!
There’s plenty of examples where extrapolation has lead to a character doing things to de-fang the zombies, as it were. In the Walking Dead, Michonne has two that she’s taken the arms and I think teeth off/out of. I have never seen an instance like this tho, where in the struggle of fight, the zombie’s lower jaw gets half ripped off, and it still keeps coming as if biting you was still a viable option. I mean, I’d still be scared shitless, but Head had to have given himself a point and slightly better odds after crowbarring his jaw into splinters. Many movies have shown corpses in bed, but I don’t think I’ve seen a bed where someone turned and then wandered off. It’s like something out of a Forensic Crime television show. The honesty that this movie achieved- false honesty, yes, but a feeling of intimacy is created that does a wonderful job including you in feeling what the characters are feeling. As an ex drunk, I could identify with Head. As a fighter, I could identify with Red. I think what I’m really trying to say is the quality of this movie is on an almost unheard of level.
Review Notes
Review Notes
Drone footage of either Scotland or Middle Earth.
Costumes : One True Saxon? What the fuck is that? Isn’t a saxon a… horn or bell or something? I’ll have to look that up later.
Wow. She dislikes that bag immensely. I do like the fighting angle.
She’s got a really hands-on trainer, but that’s not necessarily indicative of anything specific.
This guy is… a bit of a… pudge. I don’t mean fat, I mean… like, as a… genetic… coding? Like, he’s half bulldog. That’s all I meant.
Dude, don’t be sarcastic. That’s not a good way to work on anything with anyone.
I think she’s lying? I can’t read this kinda shit.
Neither is standing there glaring like a jerk.
Ah. They have kids. No wonder they’re still trying to make it work.
I really need to cut my fingernails.
Her mom doesn’t like him at all. That’s not going to help.
A duck? One hell of a strange request.
“He’ll get a tea-towel if he’s lucky!”
Oh, I think I hear zombie yelling in the background…
“Alex… Alex…”
He’s really jealous of her phone. I have had that problem myself.
They’re smiling and laughing… that’s a good sign.
“symmetrical head…”
Alex has jealousy and insecurity issues.
Big sky country…
Dude doesn’t know how to downshift… Lugging the hell out of that car.
Oh… such good blood stains… red all over!
I’m going to call them Red and Head.
I always love the open hand door slap instead of the proper closed-fist knock. That’s class, Head.
I think porcelain figurines is always a creepy sign.
I think that crashing sounds from the next room over are always a creepy sign.
I think Head would have made an excellent Hooligan. Or rugby player.
“Well, what would you use? A smaller knife?”
“A stick?”
“I’m not using a stick. Anyway, there isn’t any.”
This argument about what weapon is appropriate is perfect. I can see my wife and I having this.
I fucking LOVE this cabin. I want! It’s so perfect!
A dog. A dog scared me that much. Shit.
A padded headboard, eh?
So… I hear the sounds of crashing waves and seagulls… but… I have yet to see any ocean or beach.
A slightly awkward dinner…
Head thinks that wine makes everything better.
Reminiscing about not going to the great wall of China.
I like the idea of going to the great wall of China…
They can fight… or fight… for hours.
“Your surgically attached mobile…”
You know, as a fellow unemployed, I can empathize with Head.
“It’s short of places to storm off to, really…”
I don’t like her dodging of the conversation. Or the kiss. I understand the kiss.
And he’s continuing with the drinking. Alone. On the weekend he’s supposed to be reconciling with his wife. At the minimum, he should stop drinking so he’s not hung over tomorrow.
Yeah, those porcelain figures are creepy.
And she’s dodging that conversation, too.
How did they think that this was going to help anything? Leaving the fucking wine at home would have helped…
I would kill for some cheese and crackers right now. Damn lactose.
Still ocean sounds, but they’re… in the fucking highlands. Makes no sense.
Something running around out there though.
Red, you want to be single, you deal with it as a single person. That means dealing with it yourself. You can go confront it or you can go back to bed and ignore it, but don’t wake up Head over it. You own it. Reminds me… Jesus, this is strange… of another story about my Ex. I was shopping somewhere, when I was in graduate school and she was living alone-ish in the house we co-owned but she couldn’t or wouldn’t buy me out of. So she’s living in the house we bought when we were we and I’m living over an hour away, we haven’t had anything to talk about in a couple of years, we haven’t talked in around a year, and she calls me up hysterical because the living room ceiling crashed down in splashing of wet insulation and ruined sheetrock. Yeah, she had a roof leak. Don’t know if it leaked when I lived there, never saw anything. Not saying she caused it or anything… listen, the point is, she described the mess she was looking at in great detail, and I replied that the solution was large garbage bags, rubber gloves, and many rolls of paper towels, and she became furious at me for not volunteering to help. I told her that she hadn’t asked me to help; nothing was stopping her from that except her pride- and then she blew up and hung up. I still don’t regret a single step of that dance. It was necessary. Red gotta learn that.
Head, you gotta learn to leave the bottle well alone. Oh. A full glass AND taking the bottle to bed with you.
See, Red? It’s morning, you woke him up for nothing.
See, that’s forest you’re showing us. Why do you keep playing ocean sounds?
She’s going for a run while he’s hung over as shit.
He was planning on making them some breakfast.
He’s a shit liar.
She’s good at this. I think she’s good at standing up for herself. That’s enough to be out of the relationship for me.
And the drinking and excuses and… yeah. I can see why their shit is not secure.
Head, anger is fine. Throwing things is not.
“The Jim Jones Review”? Is that a band? Head has one of their t-shirts on.
I like Red’s training intensity. I wish I could be as committed as her.
Oh, shit. A lot of missed calls.
Oh shit, we have a zombie!!
Run, Red, Run! See Red Run!
Zombie is FAST.
Oh, I think Red just got bit… on the butt?
I see myself as more of a Red. I think my wife is a bit like Head. If only in the obsessed foodie sense.
“This is cuss. The same cuss that cost me my job.” What is Cuss?
Oh shit, she was bit!
This is bad. This is really bad.
Yeah, he’s the one explaining that he needs to clean her wound. That’s sort of the relationship my wife and I have.
Oh, do the kissing thing… it’s good for you.
She doesn’t look that good.
I guess the phones are overwhelmed.
Red’s got the shivers. That’s not good.
Red’s done passed out. That’s not good.
That’s the coolest radio I’ve ever seen!
Leave the curtains open! You’re putting a woman to sleep, you’re gonna come back to a zombie.
Oh, that wound looks bad. I’d be dumping hydrogen peroxide all over it.
And the lights have gone out.
Tetanus? This is not fucking Tetanus!
Oh, shit… she just figured out he’s been here before. Oh, shit. Talk about the worst fuck-up imaginable! Dude! How could you? You used to come here with your mistress? That’s so bad! Once again, I’d be done with your ass! I mean, that’s assuming pigs caromed over a frozen hell already for me to have taken you back. Head, you’re such a dick. This was SUCH a bad move!
Head, drinking is not going to fix this.
Oh, there’s some type of truck thingy in that garage… I can’t wait to see it. Like the soviet rifle hanging on the wall.
So… I recap a bit, ‘cause it got too awesome to type through. Head turned on the light, got tackled by a zombie, played ring-around-the-jeep, and then smacked him ineffectually in the face with a hatchet. You’d kinda think that’d be impossible, right? Like, hatchets are considered pretty binary weapons. Anyway, while the zombie was wiping the automatic “got hit in the nose, start crying angrily” tears away, Head dove under the jeep. So now… yeah. Hiding under a jeep in a garage the size of a men’s bathroom at Target. Very odd comparison. Like in undergrad, when a friend was trying to explain over lunch how large the lockers in a building were. Everything got really quiet when he used one of the girls at the table as an example of something that would fit in the locker but would be a tight squeeze. Who the fuck thinks of this?
I have no idea what Head just hit him with, but it sounds like it ripped off his jaw. Yes, it did.
No, that didn’t stop him.
Ok. A crowbar into the ear kills them. Kills them good.
Oh, shit! What about Red? Has she turned yet?
My god, I love that cabin!
Chugging scotch. Not the best idea at the moment. Looks like he drank half a pint right there. Gonna feel that in a couple, I betcha.
Red looks really bad. Like, blue and feverish and sweating and… well, a corpse.
Oh, the bite is on her leg.
Oh, that’s not good… Ask her what you’re (plural) going to do and then she stops breathing.
SHIT! Her eyes!
Pick up the poker and leave.
Oh, shit… those are some fucked up, no good feet coming down the stairs…
Ok, had to stop typing again for a bit. When this picks up, it’s burnt rubber sideways screaming WOOOO. So, Dead Red came down and attacked Head, who… did a good job doing everything except killing her, and now she’s locked outside. Fuck. Its wicked windy outside tonight. The house just shook. I mean, when the house was built in 1880 it doesn’t take much to make it shake, but still…
Oh, she is fucking scary.
Dude, cowering on the couch is not acceptable.
You keep on knocking but you can’t come in!
Some mustache geek in a panic.
More alcohol.
The rapture.
“She went out. And she hasn’t come back.”
I like his shirt.
“It’s the end of the world and let’s call the fucking pigs. They’ll be a great help.” Umm… I mean, I support police and all, being the grandson of one and all, but… I also used to listen to a lot of NWA, so… I’m conflicted.
That’s some good zombie gore.
I don’t think I’d have this guy as company. I believe I would have to kill him. He’s got that crazy dependency that can turn on you.
Then again, he’s got a boat.
“The only thing I’ve ever grown is weed. Fuck me, I could go for a spliff right now.”
Head, you think that after they eat someone they might revert back to something resembling human?
This is not good. I mean, I just talked about killing him, but I think I know where this is going. And it’s the fucking cat glitching, and they’re coming closer and faster.
Head, don’t do it.
Mustache, you’re pushing it. Or rather, you pushed it.
Jesus, I saw that coming, but that was…
Dude. Now you have one hell of an awkward interaction on your hands.
Oh, this is ugly… the sobbing…
Head… caved in his head.
Oh, she was waiting right outside the door.
Looks like the offering was accepted. Now let’s see if she turns human again.
Oh, shit. A decomp bed.
Oh! Fuck! She was down in the BASEMENT. And that’s where he threw Mustache. Not outside. I was… shit. I’m high. Whatevs…
Taking a CANDLE down?
Severed hand… Shit-tons of gore…
She looks… calm now. Still zombie as fuck, but… calm.
You’re apologizing now, Head? It’s a little fucking late.
I’m not sure zombie gurgles are the same thing as remembering.
You’re showing her her cell phone- the same thing you were continually bitching at her about?
Yup. That went over well. Run away!!
Head is on the phone with the kids. They’d like mummy.
Head… a conversation with his kids… sounds like zombie break in?
Kid says Nana is back. I think that means Zombie Nana. As in, the kids are done for.
Head is zoning out to static and wine.
Zombies are smashing their way in, Dead Red is smashing her way out
Head is sitting back in the couch.
Zombies are pogo’ing around the living room and Head still hasn’t moved or opened his eyes. I think he did himself in. Fucking cat glitches.
Oh, shit! Uh, Head just “woke up” and now he’s a zombie!
Dead Head (heh) and Dead Red are zombie screaming at each other in… zombie matrimony.
Ending credits are over a scene of urban devastation.
Nana had good eats.
Damn. That is one gorgeously bleak ending.
————End Transmission——————–
Introduction
Introduction
The Signal. I think that’s what’s on the agenda for tonight. I just realized that this movie came out before I got sober. 2008- Mothers Day. As sweet as that sounds, it’s timed more tightly to my being compared to a used car by my fiancé (you either get it or you don’t) than anything to do with my mom.
Fucked up to read that the primary cause of your personality disorder is that your mother failed to bond with you (read: treated you as an object to be tended to) in your early formative months. Talk about a double-edged truth. Worst part is now that I know, I still can’t do anything about it.
Couldn’t do anything about it then, can’t do anything about it now, still suffering from social ineptness and resultant isolation four and a half decades later. But I can hug her every time I see her and tell her I love her and make her life a little bit better. Which I do. What will I feel like if they pass and I feel nothing? I ask because of the absence of dread, or possibly the ability to ignore such. I’m waiting with bated breath for my old adventure dog to go for the big sleep, and rationally, my parents are in the same stage of life-cycle.
When I think of them passing, I think of not having anyone to call on the telephone when something happens, same way I think of coming home and my dog is no longer here to greet me; and I feel a pang of fearful loneliness, but why is there something in my forehead that’s occupying the space where that same feeling of dreaded upcoming loss should be for my parents?
There will be a certain freedom afterwards, but its only the freedom to act the fool when no-one is watching. They’re nothing but supportive forces in my life today. Or I perceive as such. I wonder if my brother and I will grow closer or cease contact?
I wonder if in the end run, it makes a difference outcome-wise as to which parent passes first? All signs point to my mother, mostly due to her “Don’t tell me what to do” feature allowing her to continue smoking cigarettes much later in life than my dad did. My dad is also a cardio nut who gets all Zen’d out on 100 mile bike rides and other crazy shit like that.
My dad and I are very much alike in our interests, but his approach is of dutiful study and traditional reverence and I’m more into showing my appreciation for something by diving a whirling circle right into the center of it, emerging panting and filthy and grinning and more knowledgeable than the people who stood on the banks dipping their toes and stating and re-stating “The water sure is cold.” to each other.
I emerge shivering from the depths and crawl onto the bank and reply “It’s really not that bad- the lower current is freezing, but the upper water is totally doable.” and there’s a quiet moment of foot shuffling and then someone sticks their toe in the water, turns, and says “Wow, that sure is cold.”
Is this why I’m not able to socialize? What am I doing wrong? They’re standing around in a speculative nature and someone shows up with more detailed information, and instead of anyone doing anything differently, they revert to restating subjective opinions?
If I loathe and detest these people, does that mean I’m the right guy for politics, or the wrong one? Does it depend which color you ask? Interestingly, I meant that as a Red/Blue crack, but I suppose any interpretation of me is going to include at least an assumption on ethnicity and one hell of an educated SWAG (Scientific Wild Ass Guess) that I’m culturally American.
My ex- the one who I was sorta-engaged to, is bi-racial. Her father is a silly white Irish looking dude and her mom is a powerfully rotund black woman who most probably should have lived in the roaring 20’s. My ex, of all things, looks Hispanic. Go figure.
Once, living off Burnside in Portland, we walked into a mercado. The cashier, who was on the phone, greeted us in Spanish- I speak a bit, so I greeted her back- in English- probably did my usual “Hey, wassup?” eye-contact up-nod that usually doesn’t get me an answer. Since my ex speaks zero Spanish though, she walked right by the cashier without even turning her head to acknowledge the greeting. Nothing intended by it, just high and focused on the sweet breads that are always in the back.
The cashier took the lack of reply as a personal insult and began complaining into the phone- still in Spanish- about the rich girl who just walked into her store who wouldn’t even say hello or look at her… Saying that she had her nose in the air… I interjected with something like “Lo siento, ella no es Mexicana, es medio blanco y medio negro”.
Of course, with my New England pronunciation, I could have also told her that I was the gossamer sunshine god and I would bless any nectarines brought to me with good fortune. I think I got the right point across. Best part of the entire event was about two minutes later, halfway home on our walk, both of us on our second huge Mexican cookie… I turned and said “Boy, that cashier really hated you.”
This got a really confused series of questions that I played hard to answer to, finally explaining everything in sequence and the parts she’d missed. She was so apologetic that she wanted to go back to the girl and explain, but there’s no way to go back and fix something like that. Sorta feels like a big practical joke now, explaining the whole thing. And then I says to Mabel, I says…
I think there was something else I was going to look into tonight. Yes. There’s a town in Pennsylvania that is called King of Prussia. As in, 100 main street, King of Prussia, Pennsylvania. Wikipedia says about 20 thousand people live there and it was named after the town’s popular tavern. That’s a city full of promise, I betcha. How did this not get addressed during the McCarthy years? Prussia is damn near the Kaiser, and I feel none too warmly about that.
Do we have a Queen of England, Tennessee? A Vicar of Tuscany, Ohio? I think that if we don’t have kings, we shouldn’t name towns after them. Admittedly, it wasn’t any specific king of Prussia, so I guess I should unwaddle my bundlies.
I slept all day. I’m yawning like crazy. I feel so old that I could Sleep. That’ll be another difference when my parents have passed. I’ve never been particularly happy with life; it’s always seemed to be frustratingly confusing, spinningly frightening, and callously indifferent.
I’ve always been a proponent of planned end of life. Meaning, you do you when you’re done doing you. I’ve always felt that our medical system is focused far too much on quantity of life over quality of life. How could those fucking idiots outlaw marijuana while allowing alcohol and tobacco to be sold? I reject that stupidity and consequently everything else decided by the same body and process of idiots. Our government hates us for it’s responsibility to us but needs us for our revenue. There’s no place you can go that’s not insane with the idea of trading slips of paper and writing down numbers of theoretical things in hypothetical agreements of structured value and power.
What if I want to spend my life naked and walking south? Detouring to swim in every lake that I see and only eating scavenged produce and animals that I can kill with hand-made weapons? Yeah, you say I’m free to do that until I’m walking through your neighborhood, swinging free and proud and munching on a quarter of bbq’d housecat?
The idea of killing a pet for food makes you angry? Angry enough to kill someone for doing it? Why not kill them first to prevent it? Can’t you see that premeditated murder to prevent their killing of a pet is the natural conclusion to them killing your pet, but this way you still have the animal’s treasured companionship? Win-win!
So yes, I accept that if I killed and ate your pet, you’d want to kill me, and I assure you, you don’t even need to eat my pets for me to want to kill you. Simply threatening them is enough. So, what if I agree that you have the right to try to kill me for eating your pets if you’ll agree that I have the right to walk naked and south until my demise? No? I don’t get the hang-up. Public nudity? That? Naked people are more real than clothed persons. If God wanted you to wear pants, suspenders would have never been invented. “Don’t you hate pants?” Homer asked, speaking for Every Man?
I need to find something to watch. I need to drink some coffee. Ok. We’re going wild card tonight. We’re going with something that was started but not finished and is only the most slightly remembered. If that at all. Here Alone “A young woman struggles to survive alone in the woods after a mysterious epidemic decimates society. Bleak, gritty, and teeming with fear, Here Alone tells a story of survival and emotional redemption in a post-apocalyptic landscape.”
“Teeming with fear.” That’s interesting. (Steeples fingers) Very interesting. All I got for a picture is a woman covered in mud like Ahnold in Predahtor, but I highly doubt we’re gonna hear anything about getting to the choppah. She looks… her pupils look like amphetamines. I’m not sure why I stopped this after about 20 minutes. It’s got 4 stars on Amazon and a IMDB of 5.6, so… Let’s see what I saw and then go a bit further? As the prophet said, “Buy the ticket, take the ride.”
Ok. This is fucked. But I’m surfing this one tonight. As I typed the Thompson above and started the movie, the internet went down. When the internet came back up, Amazon’s #1 “watch me!” is for a zombie movie I’ve been looking at for a while. Before Dawn “Alex and Meg, an estranged couple, agree to one last weekend together in a remote cottage, to try to save their failing marriage. The biggest test of their love and for each other comes when they are attacked by the undead.” Well.
Ummm…. So, it feels silly to be interpreting the third movie choice here, but… I think you’re going to want to invest more than a weekend into saving your marriage, and I think it’d probably take a bit longer than a weekend to save a marriage. I’m just saying that this “take a weekend, save a marriage” idea sounds about as realistic as the Camaro Rebuilding Montage in… Better Off Dead? I think?
However, I DO believe that something like being attacked by the undead would be either a bonding or a… definingly ending moment. I know that my wife and I are generally at our best when we’re working together on something, assuming I’ve had some valium and have stopped yelling as my primary form of communication. I have never had an adventure partner more perfectly matched than her. Even when I was younger and going on adventures with friends, maybe it was my overwhelmingly rampant alcoholism, but things never turned out as fun, or successful, or as strange as with her.
Imagine four wheeling in Nevada’s mountain ranges, driving a random single track through the scrub, out across nothing for miles that turn into hours, and as you’re slowly climbing, you’re entering snow, and then you’re fighting through drifts, and then one of you notices that the CBD gummies that you’ve been chowing down on since finding the huge 750mg pack at the border gas station has melatonin in them and maybe that’s why you’re so unconcerned about driving, lost, into a blizzard. That’s love.
That, and screaming shit about making pacts with the devil when you show that you CAN drive in the snow, you were raised in it. But that’s more one for the Asian Wife Blog.