Trip Post (1 of 2)
Picture heavy!
Departure: 1152 11-21-07
I'd mostly intended to leave on Tuesday night, but too many things were just not allowing it to happen, so I slept at my dad's Tuesday night and wanted to leave Wednesday morning. I took a little too long to get ready, and finally got my ass going just before noon. Just me, my iPod, a bag of rice cakes, and some coffee.
The trip started well. I didn't hit traffic until I got to Rt. 66, but then it hardly stopped the entire way through Virginia. SUXOR. I stopped once for food and gas after about three and a half hours, and then again somewhere just into Tennessee. I really, really, REALLY wanted to find a Waffle House because, well, WAFFLE HOUSE!, but I couldn't (WTF?!), so I opted for Sonic instead. As far as I'm concerned, that's just as much of a treat.
I don't remember the name of the town I was in, but I found a Sonic a few miles off the highway. It was fairly late (dark, at least), and I'd just crossed into the Central Time Zone, and it was pretty barren, except for about two cars, and a very, very skittish stray kitty with no whiskers. Zie really wanted to share my macaroni and cheese bites, but was way too scared to get close, so I threw them to hir and zie was happy as a clam. I did set one next to me at one point, which she snagged SUPERQUICKLY and ran to her spot about six feet away. I named hir "Pancake" in honor of the fabulous Breakfast-on-a-Stick that Sonic used to serve.
I took this with my cell phone camera 1.) so I wouldn't scare her away with the flash, and 2.) because I'd not yet purchased batteries for my real camera.
Had I not been so set on Sonic, I totally would have eaten at this place. But then I wouldn't have met Pancake!
So, I drove. And drove. And drove and drove and drove. I stopped two or three times to sleep, but only for about an hour each. It was actually quite relaxing, save for a hella nasty storm in the Southern Tennessee mountains.
I hit the Arkansas border around 0630 and sang rejoiced verily. However, this was completely uncalled for, as I later learned that Arkansas is a damned big place and I was STILL about five hours away. I did, however, learn some fairly valuable things:
1.) Arkansas drivers are WAY worse about turn signals than Maryland drivers.
2.) "Toad Suck State Park" is funny even when you haven't pulled an all-nighter. I really wish I'd seen that sign in time to stop and get a picture.
3.) Alma, Arkansas is the Spinach Capital of the World. The more you know...
So, I continued to drive. And drive. And drive and drive and drive. At this point, I was really beginning to regret driving alone because myself and I were sharing some pretty damned interesting stories, like the one about the gay hillbillies in the truck next to me. I realize that I'd do the same thing with someone else in the car, but at least the conversation would be less predictable.
I FINALLY got off of whatever highway that was onto the local road that took me to Ezra's house. It's a darn gorgeous mountain road, but I'd really had my share of scenic overlooks by now.
Unfortunately, my camera doesn't have a panoramic setting and I'm not very good at taking manual panoramic photos, but that would have made this picture a million times better.
Scary tunnel that reminded me of a Coyote and Roadrunner cartoon.
Me in the rearview. Did I mention I was bored and tired?
Hm...now I MUST be getting close... (notice the lack of pavement)
If I'd have planned my LJ entry better, I'd have taken a picture of Ezra's house from around the corner for just this spot on which to place the caption "oh, look! there it is!" or something, but...um...I didn't. Anyway, I arrived about ten minutes after that picture was taken (approximately noon, which was close to three hours after the ETA I'd give the previous night), walked into the house, and was greeted by my buddy ET, who was about 75% of the reason for my trip, and about twenty people who would all be my closest friends for the weekend. I made my presence known to the host(s) and sat down at a table to shake homemade butter in small mason jars and to regale a bunch of people with stories of my trip. This is also something I wish I'd gotten a picture of, but...erm...life goes on? I was tired? I'll have more excuses as I go on.
Dinner was served within the next hour or so, and the food was so freaking awesome. There were three turkeys- baked, smoked, and fried, and all SORTS of other things, like this really fantastic seafood stuffing. I ate far, far too much, but my tablemates were a lot of fun. After we were done, we all cleaned up and moved into the living room for some music. I was roped into playing a bit, but I'm fairly sure that I made an ass of myself because at this this point, I'd been awake for over thirty hours and was quite delirious.
Beth Grimwood's Banana Pudding.
Ezra kicks off the jam. I almost don't want to un-blur this picture.
I'm not entirely sure what's up with this picture or if I even took it, but I'm amused.
Soon enough, I found myself too damned tired to keep having as much fun as I was and I went to crash in Dana's (Ezra's daughter) bed. Ezra woke me up a few hours later by saying something to the effect of "Get out of my daughter's bed, you fucking creep!" 'Twas funny. I moved to the downstairs couch and slept just as well as I had upstairs.
I was the first one up Friday morning, and little did I know what an eventful day it was going to be.
The arsenal on the other side of the room from my couch.
Sloopy the tailless cat.
We had pancakes for breakfast, but they weren't just ANY pancakes. Oh no! They were Pancake Art.
A fish!
A tree!
Coffee!
Artsy Face!
A juggler! (my personal favorite).
That was about the coolest breakfast in the History of Breakfast. Dana and Katie are seriously awesome.
Soon after breakfast, it was time to play Hippies go Shooting. Keith's wife, Beth, had just gotten hold of a Yugoslavian SKS with a grenade launcher attachment and wanted to try it out. A few others had decided that skeet and target shooting might me fun, so about six of us hopped into the back of Ezra's truck and rode over to one of his many fields (he's about about 110 acres).
That damned clay pigeon is no match for Ezra's hunting jacket...
...nor Hector's lefty-ness.
Beth and her rifle.
I'd never handled a gun in my life and handling four in one day (two shotguns, a rifle, and a handgun) was a bit much for me, but I did shoot three out of my five clay pigeons. Go me! Or something.
After that, it was back to the house for what probably involved more food. Traditionally, the Friday after Thanksgiving involves a giant party with all sorts of music and debauchery and food, and from what I understand, this year was no different. A woman named Patty and her husband, Daryl, had been unable to make it to Thursday's festivities, so they took it upon themselves to make a whole 'nother dinner for everyone in addition to the pot luck deal that was already going on. I hadn't been that well fed in quite some time.
The musician-types jammed way, way, way on into the night. It was fascinating to watch and participate in.
Denise, Keith, and Ezra
Phil on the banjo.
Old Jack.
I forget this woman's name, but she was amazingly awesome.
Keith and his son, Kevin.
Sarah, Keith, and I.
Keith plays tacky love songs ("Downtown" and "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin" amongst them) for people in various states of inebriation around the piano.
Dana, Gabrielle, and I watch from the couch. Those two provide enough good-lookin' to negate my silly expression (yeah, I don't know either.).
Next? Poi spinning!!!
Apparently, a group of them had been learning to do this and we were treated to five or six people giving us a private show. SERIOUSLY WICKEDAWESOMECOOL!
That was about all for Friday, really. I'll catch up on the last two days tomorrow.
Departure: 1152 11-21-07
I'd mostly intended to leave on Tuesday night, but too many things were just not allowing it to happen, so I slept at my dad's Tuesday night and wanted to leave Wednesday morning. I took a little too long to get ready, and finally got my ass going just before noon. Just me, my iPod, a bag of rice cakes, and some coffee.
The trip started well. I didn't hit traffic until I got to Rt. 66, but then it hardly stopped the entire way through Virginia. SUXOR. I stopped once for food and gas after about three and a half hours, and then again somewhere just into Tennessee. I really, really, REALLY wanted to find a Waffle House because, well, WAFFLE HOUSE!, but I couldn't (WTF?!), so I opted for Sonic instead. As far as I'm concerned, that's just as much of a treat.
I don't remember the name of the town I was in, but I found a Sonic a few miles off the highway. It was fairly late (dark, at least), and I'd just crossed into the Central Time Zone, and it was pretty barren, except for about two cars, and a very, very skittish stray kitty with no whiskers. Zie really wanted to share my macaroni and cheese bites, but was way too scared to get close, so I threw them to hir and zie was happy as a clam. I did set one next to me at one point, which she snagged SUPERQUICKLY and ran to her spot about six feet away. I named hir "Pancake" in honor of the fabulous Breakfast-on-a-Stick that Sonic used to serve.
I took this with my cell phone camera 1.) so I wouldn't scare her away with the flash, and 2.) because I'd not yet purchased batteries for my real camera.
Had I not been so set on Sonic, I totally would have eaten at this place. But then I wouldn't have met Pancake!
So, I drove. And drove. And drove and drove and drove. I stopped two or three times to sleep, but only for about an hour each. It was actually quite relaxing, save for a hella nasty storm in the Southern Tennessee mountains.
I hit the Arkansas border around 0630 and sang rejoiced verily. However, this was completely uncalled for, as I later learned that Arkansas is a damned big place and I was STILL about five hours away. I did, however, learn some fairly valuable things:
1.) Arkansas drivers are WAY worse about turn signals than Maryland drivers.
2.) "Toad Suck State Park" is funny even when you haven't pulled an all-nighter. I really wish I'd seen that sign in time to stop and get a picture.
3.) Alma, Arkansas is the Spinach Capital of the World. The more you know...
So, I continued to drive. And drive. And drive and drive and drive. At this point, I was really beginning to regret driving alone because myself and I were sharing some pretty damned interesting stories, like the one about the gay hillbillies in the truck next to me. I realize that I'd do the same thing with someone else in the car, but at least the conversation would be less predictable.
I FINALLY got off of whatever highway that was onto the local road that took me to Ezra's house. It's a darn gorgeous mountain road, but I'd really had my share of scenic overlooks by now.
Unfortunately, my camera doesn't have a panoramic setting and I'm not very good at taking manual panoramic photos, but that would have made this picture a million times better.
Scary tunnel that reminded me of a Coyote and Roadrunner cartoon.
Me in the rearview. Did I mention I was bored and tired?
Hm...now I MUST be getting close... (notice the lack of pavement)
If I'd have planned my LJ entry better, I'd have taken a picture of Ezra's house from around the corner for just this spot on which to place the caption "oh, look! there it is!" or something, but...um...I didn't. Anyway, I arrived about ten minutes after that picture was taken (approximately noon, which was close to three hours after the ETA I'd give the previous night), walked into the house, and was greeted by my buddy ET, who was about 75% of the reason for my trip, and about twenty people who would all be my closest friends for the weekend. I made my presence known to the host(s) and sat down at a table to shake homemade butter in small mason jars and to regale a bunch of people with stories of my trip. This is also something I wish I'd gotten a picture of, but...erm...life goes on? I was tired? I'll have more excuses as I go on.
Dinner was served within the next hour or so, and the food was so freaking awesome. There were three turkeys- baked, smoked, and fried, and all SORTS of other things, like this really fantastic seafood stuffing. I ate far, far too much, but my tablemates were a lot of fun. After we were done, we all cleaned up and moved into the living room for some music. I was roped into playing a bit, but I'm fairly sure that I made an ass of myself because at this this point, I'd been awake for over thirty hours and was quite delirious.
Beth Grimwood's Banana Pudding.
Ezra kicks off the jam. I almost don't want to un-blur this picture.
I'm not entirely sure what's up with this picture or if I even took it, but I'm amused.
Soon enough, I found myself too damned tired to keep having as much fun as I was and I went to crash in Dana's (Ezra's daughter) bed. Ezra woke me up a few hours later by saying something to the effect of "Get out of my daughter's bed, you fucking creep!" 'Twas funny. I moved to the downstairs couch and slept just as well as I had upstairs.
I was the first one up Friday morning, and little did I know what an eventful day it was going to be.
The arsenal on the other side of the room from my couch.
Sloopy the tailless cat.
We had pancakes for breakfast, but they weren't just ANY pancakes. Oh no! They were Pancake Art.
A fish!
A tree!
Coffee!
Artsy Face!
A juggler! (my personal favorite).
That was about the coolest breakfast in the History of Breakfast. Dana and Katie are seriously awesome.
Soon after breakfast, it was time to play Hippies go Shooting. Keith's wife, Beth, had just gotten hold of a Yugoslavian SKS with a grenade launcher attachment and wanted to try it out. A few others had decided that skeet and target shooting might me fun, so about six of us hopped into the back of Ezra's truck and rode over to one of his many fields (he's about about 110 acres).
That damned clay pigeon is no match for Ezra's hunting jacket...
...nor Hector's lefty-ness.
Beth and her rifle.
I'd never handled a gun in my life and handling four in one day (two shotguns, a rifle, and a handgun) was a bit much for me, but I did shoot three out of my five clay pigeons. Go me! Or something.
After that, it was back to the house for what probably involved more food. Traditionally, the Friday after Thanksgiving involves a giant party with all sorts of music and debauchery and food, and from what I understand, this year was no different. A woman named Patty and her husband, Daryl, had been unable to make it to Thursday's festivities, so they took it upon themselves to make a whole 'nother dinner for everyone in addition to the pot luck deal that was already going on. I hadn't been that well fed in quite some time.
The musician-types jammed way, way, way on into the night. It was fascinating to watch and participate in.
Denise, Keith, and Ezra
Phil on the banjo.
Old Jack.
I forget this woman's name, but she was amazingly awesome.
Keith and his son, Kevin.
Sarah, Keith, and I.
Keith plays tacky love songs ("Downtown" and "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin" amongst them) for people in various states of inebriation around the piano.
Dana, Gabrielle, and I watch from the couch. Those two provide enough good-lookin' to negate my silly expression (yeah, I don't know either.).
Next? Poi spinning!!!
Apparently, a group of them had been learning to do this and we were treated to five or six people giving us a private show. SERIOUSLY WICKEDAWESOMECOOL!
That was about all for Friday, really. I'll catch up on the last two days tomorrow.