July 12, 2007

-- On Tuesday morning we got up earlier than usual, and started the dreaded process of breaking everything down. Man, I hate that part of camping; it eats it from the ass-in. But, unfortunately, it’s part of the bargain. 

We’d drive back to Culpeper today, or Bell Pepper, or whatever that place was called, and be home by mid-afternoon on Wednesday. That’s what we finally decided.

We’d briefly toyed with the idea of doing the whole trip in a single day, but we made that mistake once before. And it was not good, not good at all. So Toney went online and booked us a room at the same hotel we’d stayed on our way to Myrtle Beach. We found it to be a perfect place to stop.  

We rolled up the awning, careful not to wrench it sideways. I’d had a nightmare in which we did exactly that, you see. The thing was completely rolled-up on one end, but there was still a yard of awning left on the other end, and we couldn’t get it to move in either direction. I’d woken up in a clammy sweat, running my hands through my hair.

But it worked out, and we swept off the indoor/outdoor carpet the best we could, de-sanded the inside of the camper, etc. It didn’t take as long as I’d feared, but it still wasn’t much fun.

While I was loading our luggage into the trunk a young hillbilly child walked up to me. He was probably 12 years old, and said, “Y’all leavin’ this mornin’?” I told him we were, and he answered, “Well, y’all have yourselves a safe trip, y’hear?” And he walked away. I’d never seen him before in my life.

As instructed, we left $25 in cash on the dining room table inside the camper. This was for the guy who moved it out of storage for us (and back in), leveled it, and hooked up the water, electric, and sewer. He also had the air conditioner cranking full-blast when we arrived, so it was money well-spent.

Before we left I walked over to the campsite next-door, so I could say goodbye to ol' Mixed Drinks and his wife. But there was nobody around, and the curtains and blinds were all closed. Huh. He’s probably wallowing in misery in there, I guessed, nursing an atomic hangover. Oh well, I tried.

We stopped at Chick-fil-A on our way out of town, and I had two chicken biscuit breakfast samliches. All I can say is: yum. It was one of those rare free-standing Chick-fil-As, which are called Dwarf Houses. I know this because I lived in Atlanta , but I still don’t know why. I mean, what the hell?

I also ordered a large sweet tea, since we were leaving the area and I probably wouldn’t be able to find it again for many months.

For those of you who haven’t spent much time in the Souf, sweet tea is iced tea with sugar added, but not in the usual sense. No, it’s added during the brewing process, while everything’s still hot. The heat causes the sugar to melt, and become one with the beverage. And the shit is good.

Dumping a packet of sweetener into a glass of cold tea simply doesn’t cut it, and I refuse to do so. Once you’ve had the real deal, there’s no turning back. Oh, I’ve been to the mountaintop. And Jeff Kay doesn’t shake packets.

When we arrived in Banana Peppers, Virginia (or whatever), we locked Andy inside the room and went to a grocery store for ice, and out scouting for food. I didn’t want to just eat burgers out of a sack again, so we’d see what real restaurants were around. And at the same time we might find out how Andy would react to being locked-up in a strange place.

Yeah, Black Lips Houlihan did just fine, and we located a Cracker Barrel down the way. And that’s where I ate one of the most gluttonous meals of my entire life, to date. 

I had a salad, and not just the puny house version, either. No, this one came in a serving bowl and had cheese and bacon bits, and the whole nine yards. I also ingested a full platter of biscuits and cornbread, something called the Cracker Barrel Sampler(!), and an enormous serving of strawberry shortcake. 

Man, I was putting on a freakin’ clinic; it’s a wonder they didn’t have to wheel me out of there on a gurney. But it was just all so damn tasty.

I’d bought a six-pack of a microbrew called Saranac at the grocery store, and drank one when we got back to the room. And we almost had a Mr. Creosote situation on our hands, I'm not kidding. I decided I’d better just stop at one.

We left early Wednesday morning, and opted to skip breakfast. All of us were itching to get home, so we just gobbled down some cold Pop-Tarts and hit the road.

Toney and I were soon experiencing caffeine withdrawals, so we started looking for a place to buy coffee. The Secrets were also hollering for a pee-break, so I told everyone to watch for one of those WaWa convenience stores. It’s been my experience that WaWa has really good coffee.

The oldest Secret: “So what you’re saying is… we’re looking for a WaWa so we can wee wee and buy java?” Sometimes I worry that he's a little too much like me...

We didn’t stop again until we got to Gettysburg. There we pulled off the highway and hit a McDonald’s drive-through. A retarded woman took our order, and our money at the first window. She continuously smiled like a Jack-O-Lantern, as if she were having the time of her life. 

Then we inched forward and another window slid open. This time a non-retarded man’s head popped out, and asked if we’d already paid. We said yes, and he told us to proceed to the next window, and slammed his shut.

The hell? Why so many windows?! What is this, Laugh-In?

After a frenzied lunch behind the wheel of my parked car, in the high heat, I decided I’d better go to the bathroom before we got back on the interstate. 

Yeah, there was a complete Little League team inside that shitatorium. And apparently part of their sports training included not being allowed to urinate for days on end, and the eating of lots and lots of asparagus. I just don’t know.

We finally made it back to our neck of the woods in the late afternoon, and I’d never been so happy to see bad driving in all my life. 

When I nearly rear-ended a Civil War veteran who’d inexplicably slammed on his brakes in the right lane of the interstate, I turned to my family, and made the official announcement: We made it! We’re home!! 

I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house.

I took a bunch of pictures while we were away, but they didn’t turn out very well. Here’s the best of the bunch, for what it’s worth.

And the best news of all? No more Myrtle Beach updates after today! Cool, huh?

I’ll see you guys tomorrow.

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