April 30, 2007

-- We had a great time in Gettysburg yesterday. I think it was our third visit, and I was a bit concerned I might get bored. 

I mean, just how many times can a person walk around the battlefields and stare at the monuments? And how many times can he wander through the stores and look at shot glasses with cannons on them? And how many times can he contemplate five hundred musket balls under glass at the battle museum? Well… apparently lots of times, ‘cause we had a blast.

The whole thing is surprisingly satisfying. It’s like when you’re getting ready to leave on a long car trip and don’t really have to pee, but feel like you should try it anyway. And then it goes on and on and on…. I’m not sure the Chamber of Commerce would approve of such an analogy, but it’s accurate, I believe. A Day at Gettysburg : It’s Like A Great Pee That Sneaks Up On You!

This one isn’t getting off to a very good start, is it?

When we arrived in town we took a wrong turn and ended up in a park we’d never seen before. We drove on a narrow one-way road between the trees, and there were monuments and markers everywhere. 

It was pretty darn amazing, and creepy as well. I could just imagine being seventeen and scared, and up in those woods with the knowledge there are hundreds (thousands?) of people in the general vicinity who’d like very much to blow your freakin’ head off. I wouldn’t want to be in that so-called park after the sun went down. No way.

We drove and drove, and I started to worry we might not find our way out. It seemed to go on forever, and there wasn’t even a hint of civilization in any direction. Finally we were deposited at the base of a KFC, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

We had lunch at a place called The Pub (I think that was the name of it), and I ordered a club sandwich but forgot to say “no mayo.” Every time I bit down on it, that terrible crap (the devil’s condiment) oozed in every direction, and I was fairly grossed-out. 

The food was really good otherwise (provolone = yum), but the restaurant clearly understands that most people only use sandwiches as an excuse; in most cases they’re nothing more than a vehicle with which to transport spreads. And I don’t swing that way.

After we finished our meal, and I got mayonnaise off my pants and out of my eyebrows, we walked around the neighborhood there. We bought the Secrets each an authentic Civil War-era bullet, which are so plentiful every store in town has buckets of the things, and sells ‘em for three bucks a pop. They’re incredibly heavy, and could flat-out ruin a person’s day, I imagine.

There must’ve been some kind of greyhound convention going on. Because we saw about thirty of those hilarious, high-stepping animals being walked by people who looked a little like greyhounds themselves. Plus, and this is a new one on me, many stores had professionally-made (permanent?) signs in their windows that read: Greyhounds Welcome! Very strange. Can anyone explain this to me? Because I’m baffled.

And speaking of animals, we passed a pet store with puppies and kittens in the display windows out front. Needless to say, this drew a crowd and everyone was hollering the word “cute,” and acting like their legs were about to give out. 

There were four tiny cats in the cats section, and one was spread out on the floor like a bearskin rug. The other three were romping around and putting on a show for us. One (I shit you not) actually climbed a ladder, which almost caused an old lady to black-out and fall face-first into the gutter. I was prepared to step in and catch her if she fully succumbed to the cuteness, but she was able to dial it back at the last minute.

Toney said, “They sure are cute, aren’t they?” And I answered, “Yeah, but wonder why they don’t do something with that dead one?” Man, oh man. That little joke didn’t go over very well. I thought it was pretty funny, but white-hot dirty looks came flying at me from every direction. Sheesh. I guess there’s no joking allowed when it comes to kittens? I felt like Don Imus.

We finally went back to the parking garage where we’d left our car, and the woman inside the boof had a big ol’ TV with her. I’d say she was in her early 60s, and looked like a stereotypical school teacher. But I’m almost certain she was watching Scarface. 

I handed her my ticket, she shoved it into a machine on the counter, and there was just continuous gunfire on the television. She said I owed her a dollar, I handed it to her, and as we were driving away I saw a close-up of a man screaming in pain and covered in blood.

TF??

We spent a half-hour or so at the museum, and that was pretty cool. They have cannons in there, about a million guns, tents, playing cards, shaving kits, uniforms, and every tiny (or otherwise) item a Civil War soldier might encounter. 

I was most intrigued by the ammo display. It appeared that most of the stuff wasn’t even designed to explode, it was just balls of metal to be launched in the other guy's direction. And how bad would that suck? You’d be sitting there minding your own business one day, maybe eating some cold oatmeal or whatever, when a twenty pound sphere of iron comes sailing over a tree and strikes you full in the back. 

No, I don’t think I’d much care for that.

They also had a huge display of photographs taken at a reunion in 1938. It showed very old men, many sporting ZZ Top beards, seated at picnic tables and eating pie. Supposedly they were all veterans of the battle at Gettysburg(!), just sitting around, chilling – blue and gray together - all the old issues long ago settled. I could be wrong, but it appeared the only thing on their minds that day was getting another slice of that good blueberry, and maybe catching a quick nap under a tree somewhere.

The battlegrounds never fail to get me in the gut. I’m no Civil War fanatic, and I'm certainly not a member of the thuper-thenthitive Oprah Nation, but just walking around those fields where so many people died has the power to move even a cynical bastard such as myself. I took some pictures, but when I got home I realized they were almost exactly like the ones I got last time. So I’ll just save myself some time and link to the old ones. Screw it.

Here’s one from yesterday. It’s the marker for the graves of unknown West Virginia soldiers. People leave coins on them, for some reason, and WV’s dead didn’t have too many. So, most of those are from my own pocket. The site of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address got much more respect, and I think I was experiencing a mild case of coin-envy. Next time I think I’ll bring a roll of quarters and even the (four)score a bit.

-- And that’ll just about do it for today, my friends. But before I go… we've got yet another Smoking Fish sighting, this time in Chile! Check it out. Our logo, man, he gets around. 

Also, I want you to know that your peer pressure worked. On Saturday I went out and bought a copy of The Stand. I was called some very hurtful things at this website, and finally broke-down and bought the damn thing.

But I’m telling you, the book is HUGE. I don’t think my concerns are unfounded, pussy-boy or no. Take a look. That’s me waiting in the checkout line at Borders. It’s a wonder I wasn’t killed!

I'll see you guys tomorrow.

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Last updated
01/17/12 12:12 PM

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