The flight home

No, I don't mean we gave up and took a plane. We fled the south. After our stay at the Windam, we got up and out at around 11AM and began the final trek through Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, and, finally, Maryland.

Nothing much happened until we had a minor miscommunication about South Carolina. We agreed to take a scenic route to break up the highway driving, but it turns out the scenic route Ang pointed out did not encompass the entire northern part of the state through the Cherokee Foothills like the one I took us to. Oops.

After all the mountains, and canyons, and sierra nevadas, and lakes and whatnot, it was boring as hell. Church, church, dollar general, church, dollar tree, church, church, SCENERY! I SEE SCENERY!

[scenery] SCENERY IS SCENIC!!

At some point, I started singing. And singing. About dirt and worms, I think. Then I lost volume control and started screaming every part of my conversation. I was tired, and I knew it was going to be a 6AM arrival, and I think hysterics had set in.

There was really nothing entertaining about the drive, and we even took one pull off to Devil's Fork, which sounded interesting, but was really just a boat ramp and we both had to poop. And we paid $4 to get into the boat ramp section. And there was nowhere to poop. I think Ang had some poop tirade, but I forget it now, so maybe she'll update with it later. I took a picture of the boat ramp as we turned around.

[boat ramp] This picture cost us $4.

As we were leaving the boat ramp park, we saw a visitor center. Which meant a bathroom! You had to have a day pass to use the visitor center, which was fortunate, because it meant that for $4 we got a picture AND pooped. It's almost a deal.

Ang picked a stall, and I got in mine, and Ang's toiled flushed prematurely. And didn't stop. It just flushed and flushed and flushed endlessly as I laughed and people outside the stall snickered. She told me to shut up, and I had no idea how hard it was to poop when the toilet was splashing and distracting her. Abruptly, it stopped flushing. She ran out of the stall and informed me that we had to flee, because it had only stopped because she had finally pooped in it. We spent a lot of this trip fleeing.

Actually, now that I think about it, that might have been Ang's poop tirade. Probably not, because I doubt she wants the public to know about that story. On second thought, I don't think we care about such indecencies at this point. 

About halfway through the "scenic" drive, we looked at the map after Ang started asking how to get back to the highway. I told her there was basically no turning back, as we were only halfway, and she was all, "what the fuck is this? I meant THIS route *small gesture on map*, not THIS ROUTE! *large gesture on the map*"

I started driving after that. In the sunset. AGAIN. I swear to god, I got sunset driving and therefore night driving EVERY TIME, from day 1. Every time I bitched about how our driving schedule had turned out, she would point out that I was too busy screaming about MAH BLANKETS in the morning to drive, so she did it. It was a good point. I am not a morning person, and probably would have killed us trying to swerve over 3 lanes, a grassy median, and 3 more lanes to get to a Chevron for my precious instant sugary cappuccino.

We eventually made it back to the highway, and into North Carolina. Behold, the most interesting thing on the entire drive:

[pumpkin mobile]

The rain started somewhere around Durham, North Carolina. I was trucking along in the middle lane, and zoomed past a cop (not his car, the cop himself) helping out a wrecked vehicle in the fast lane, nearly clipping him. It was then that we decided that we needed caffeine, and a plan.

We pulled into a gas station, and looked at the weather map. Ang started whimpering, so I took a look.

Remember that time I yelled that Isaac was a pussy, way back in Louisiana? Yeah, so did Isaac, and he was NOT HAPPY. We were looking at a large swath of yellow and red colored storms directly in our path, marching in the same direction we were.

We sat there a while and I ate my last meal (chili cheesy tots), and thought about how we were probably going to die. We were both tired, the tires were probably bald at this point, and it was dark with hurricane remnants shaking their fist at us. There was no option to just sit and wait it out, because we both had work and if we waited, we would just be stuck in an even larger storm that was coming up behind us.

We said fuck it, took caffeine pills, and got back on the highway. I was going 55 in a 65, and we shook our head at everyone that zoomed past us, telling them that they had no idea what they were about to drive into.

I kept waiting for it to get bad, and the rain increase a little bit, but it was still pretty mellow.

Then, we were suddenly in Virginia, which meant we had made it above the storm.

"Can I say it yet?"
"NO. Don't you dare say it."
"How about now?"
"You bitch, I still have to drive home after Maryland. Don't you DARE."
"Fiiiine."

I muttered about Isaac being a pussy low enough that she couldn't hear me.

After that, we had to pee, so Angie talked about how her bladder was going to burst like that woman from hold your wee for a Wii. I told her I didn't think it was bladder bursting that killed her, so she Wikipedia'd it, and found out it was water intoxication. Then she went to a link with water intoxication stories. Then she went to a link with a list of unusual deaths.

The final 4 hours of the trip was spent with me trying to stay awake, while Ang read stories about horrific and/or weird and/or toilet-related deaths.

For the record, our favorite was about a man who jumped from a 10-story building, and got shot passing by the 9th story window. What he didn't know was that the 8th story had a net, so he wouldn't have died. He was shot by his father. He was trying to commit suicide because his mother had cut him off financially, and he had placed a bullet in a gun that his father used to threaten his mother with all the time but always had blanks in it. He had hoped that the father would shoot the mother and kill her, thinking it still had blanks. When that didn't happen, he jumped from the building. The case was ruled suicide because he had placed the bullet in the gun to begin with.

Yeah, we had to read that a few times to figure it out, too.

Random quote:

Ang: I'm bored. Do we have any snacks?
Me: Really? Fine. ::rustles through snack bag:: um, there's...expired tiramisu cakes, some fritos, a bag of suspiciously perfect sixlets (wtf?), a bag of bugles that might be from back in California, some melted trail mix, and a kippered beef jerky stick from Oregon.

Ang: I want the beef jerky.

Me: How about I distract you with a sixlet, and then we can take an exit and get snacks.

Ang: Ok.
*eats sixlet*
I'm still bored.

Me: This is why I'm the better driver and you're the better passenger. I get bored here, you get bored there.

Ang: Really? Do you remember what happened the last time you got bored?

The beef stick was rancid, by the way.

Failed Expectations

The southern states are nothing at all like we'd expected. Probably should have paid more attention in, well, geography for one because I have no idea which states are next to which. Even having been through them it still takes me a bit to remember. Or social studies or something that would have given me more an idea about what these places are like. Here's a list of our illusions and unexpected findings:

California
Expected: sun, warmth, sandy beaches, happy nice laid-back surfer dudes.
Delivered: cold, hillbillies, assholes, trailer trash and pimps

Utah
Expected: funky looking rocks
Delivered: awesome funky looking rocks, but the French Invasion

Arizona
Expected: sandy desert and seguros
Delivered: scrubby high desert, trees, but nice navajo people

Santa Fe, New Mexico
Expected: tacos
Delivered: awesomeness, but shitty tacos

Roswell, New Mexico
Expected: aliens
Delivered: disappointment

Texas
Expected: longhorns, horses, cowboys, prairies, pickup trucks
Delivered: trees, traffic accidents, pickup trucks with ballsacks (probably should have expected that one though)

San Antonio, Texas
Expected: nothing
Delivered: the beautiful Riverwalk, the Alamo

Louisiana
Expected: Cajun swamp land, a hurricane
Delivered: rapists and rainbows

Louisiana: Why were there no warnings?

Okay, seriously. Level with me here.

Why the hell didn't you tell us? Did you really think it was wise to send two semi-retarded girls into that state? Really? It didn't occur to you to just slip a small, discreet warning something along the lines of "DO NOT FUCKING GO TO LOUISIANA!" to us?

We really could have used that warning. Apparently everyone else but us is aware of the fact that the entire state is the sketchiest piece of sketch that ever did sketch. We didn't figure it out until about halfway through the state.

Me: I'm bored. Fix it.
Ang: Okay, we'll backroad it.

And with that, we took an exit, and began backroading through Louisiana. It seemed pretty nice, actually. Isaac had come through, or was supposed to be hurricaning or something, so there was a light rain that produced rainbows all over the place. I may have called Isaac a pussy. I may have also screamed it out the window, shaking my fist.

I pull into a gas station, and immediately people are looking at us. We probably should have just kept driving, but we're dumb. We go in, and I headed for the bathroom. When I came out, Ang was standing by the door, staring at me wide-eyed.

Me:"Uh, is everything okay?"
Ang, whispering: "We need to leave. NOW. LEAVING NOW. RUNNING."

So I book it to the car with her, and as she gets in, she starts yelling at me.

"YOU ARE NOT DRIVING. DRIVE FASTER. WHY ARE YOU NOT DRIVING FAST ENOUGH! I SAID FASTER! NOW!"

As we peeled out of there, she recounted the story of a guy who came in and apparently told her that she is a fine woman, asked where her husband is, told her that he'd make a better one, and rubbed her back. She was trying to buy some snacks, and kept entering her pin wrong because he was scaring her so badly. She was stuck at the register longer, and then stuck waiting for me to come out of the bathroom with the car keys. In the meantime, the lady at the register told her that she hated that guy because he does that to every woman who comes in. Lovely.

We kept on driving, and we noticed that all buildings were either a church, a dollar general, or a dollar tree. Seriously, that's all there was. Church, church, dollar tree, church, sonic!, church, church, church, church, dollar general, Church's Chicken, church.

It was all sketchtastic. The case investigator for the car accident we had called, and wanted to speak to me. Ang distracted her for a while until I pulled into a sketchy gas station. I talked to the lady, found out that all of the information that we had told the inital data person was not actually entered, and had to re-tell all of the license plates and people and insurance numbers. I had a great time with it.

Me: "T as in taco, B as in bouncy, K as in Constantinople --"
Ang: "Uh, Constantinople begins with a C, not a K."
Me: ::pointing to notebook:: "That's a C?!"
Ang: "No. That's a K. Like Kangaroo, not Constantinople."
Me: "Okay, pretend Constantinople begins with a K, and that was the letter on the license plate."

I finish up, and go into the sketchstation to poop. I peruse the beer selection for some microbrew to bring back to Jim and spot a case of something that I only remembered as Lazy Magnolia by the time I got back to Ang. I told her to go get me the beer, because she had the money, and I couldn't show my face after what I had done to the bathroom.

A while later, she gets back in the car, and glowers at me and told me that the next time I ask her to get some beer, do NOT tell her what the tiny font says on the front, tell her what the giant letters say. She had to go talk to the sketchattendant to figure out wtf beer I wanted, and it went something like this:

Ang: "Uh, my friend saw a case of beer called Lazy Magnolia. Or something. Any idea what she was looking at?"
Sketchattendant: "Ummm...no. White or black?"
Ang: "What?"
Sketchattendant: "Your friend. Is she white or black?
Ang: "...She's white."
Sketchattendant: "Whew, I don't know."
They eventually find a case of beer that says SOUTHERN PECAN ALE in giant letters, and Lazy Magnolia in tiny letters.
Sketchattendant: "Wow, nobody has ever bought that beer before."
Ang: "Yeah, sorry, we're grabbing craft beer from around the country to bring back to our boyfriends."
Sketchattendant: "Oh. Well, I hope you're not gonna cross state lines with that."
Ang: "...Why?"
Sketchattendant: "Because y'all are bootleggin'. And that's illegal."

With that, we got back on the sketchy highway, and went perfectly the speed limit. As we drove along, Ang saw a sign for Tallulah, which is mentioned in a song that she knew of. We were starving, so we pulled in to see if there was anything to eat. Google immediately popped up with numerous restaurant choices: McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's, Sonic, Church's Chicken... Really? It was nice at first, but then we entered the town, did a square, realized the whole place was probably the murder capital of the world, and fled. Fast. Screaming. As we drove out of there, Voltaire's "Ex-Lover's Lover" started playing from the iPod, and the lyrics include a chorus of "Die, die, diediediedie, die die die, watch them die."

We realized that all of the rest areas had tiny little signs that said "NO SECURITY PROVIDED" on them, and they were completely deserted. There was ONE that said "24 HOUR ATTENDANT" and it was PACKED.

We were starving, and realized that we could not stop, or stay, or even pause anywhere in the state without being murdered. So, thanks for the warnings, guys. We probably would have eaten back in Texas and detoured above the whole state if we had known Louisiana was such a steaming pile of sketch.

We had to book a really nice hotel in Alabama to finally feel safe enough to sleep. The hotel was gorgeous, and Ang went in to check in while I grabbed our crap. She came back out, and she saw me holding the bag that contained George "Popcorn" Paddles, the cactus.

Ang: "HAHAHA. Oh my god."
Me: "What? George will be all alone if we leave him out here. Plus, I think he's moldy."
Ang: "Wait, why is he moldy?"
Me: "He looked thirsty!"
Ang: "You...watered the cactus? And then closed the bag? And then put it in the back of the car? Really?"
Me: "DON'T JUDGE US."
Ang: "Anyway. I was laughing because when they asked if we had any pets, I told him that we didn't unless he counted your cactus friend, which is probably staying in the car. Now I'll have to tell him that George is coming with us."
Me: "He bites."

We went inside, and I told him that we had to bring in the moldy cactus. I got to talking about how sketchy Louisiana is, and he told us that, "Oh, Louisiana is sketchy on a GOOD day."
"Seriously? Even you know it's sketchy?"
"Who doesn't?"

...The next morning, a different lady checked us out, and we reiterated that we had a nice stay, and needed somewhere safe away from Louisiana because it was so sketchy. Without skipping a beat she responded, "True story."