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The latest Adventure
Apr. 2nd, 2012 07:35 pmThere and back again.
This time I took a friend to keep me from getting the road hypnosis, which was good for a variety of reasons. For the purposes of this journal (You know, true believers, that I prefer not to identify anyone by their 'real' name in my LJ) let us call my companion my Sister Mabel. Hm. I'm not quite sure how to spell that. Maybell? Maiybull? Mehbal?
To begin, we got started later than I wanted to, but that was ok. Then we got started MUCH later than I wanted to due to several errands that needed to be run before we left. But that was OK, too.
So we headed out, and my poor brain's autopilot had a short in it. First I tried to go to my mother's house, but I realized after the fact that I had been mistaken TWICE. I had, indeed, meant to get off the highway at Bowles so that I could get on 141 south. Instead, I panicked, got back on 44 and started to head out to the facility in Steelville. Sigh.
Got back on track but added a good 20 minutes to our time. Sigh.
As a result of all of this, it was well dark by the time we hit Memphis, and once we crossed into Mississippi, the fog came for us. Initially, it was a pleasant fog, something to keep the road interesting and reminded me of stories of much more intense and disturbing fog. I should have avoided telling such stories, as the fog took umbridge to my belittlement and bulked up preventing me from seeing much of anything at all. When the street lights (all four of the ones on that stretch of highway) randomly appeared a single carlength ahead of me, I knew I needed to focus a little more sharply. Finally, we stopped for a potty break/snack acquisition.
And we got a SHOW! There, at the Shell station, was an SUV of some kind, which appeared to have been hit with a Jerry Springer Show Clown Car spell at some point. There was a cluster of... er... folks. Most of them were younger than I, but not high-school age. (Shame that, as the behavior was more like high-school age or Middle-school age.) There was some kind of screaming match in one of the Mississippi Redneck Dialects, peppered with spectacular swear words. Mabel and I were a little anxious about strolling past this exaggerated performance art but the need to pee was upon us. (Nothing QUITE like driving at 60+ MPH on a dark, unfamiliar interstate in another state in the fog of doom late at night when one must tinkle.)
Eventually, the cluster of folks coalesced closer to the vehicle, and we quietly snuck into the station. I'd like to point out that the other customers had gone to the counter and were in the middle of the "Shouldn't you be calling the police about this situation?" conversation. Oh. Good. That means we don't have to. We went to the bathroom that had two things that amused the crap out of me: A novelty dispenser that had two versions of the ridiculous "Pandora's Box" adult novelties, and some kind of off-brand black condom. The other thing that amused me? Two stalls, each fortified with a complete wall and locking door. With the door closed, my private stall was as private as a damned hotel room. No flimsy metal partitions, no. These were individual ROOMS with locking doors that sealed you away from anyone else in the restroom.
Hm. Private rooms, and a condom dispenser. Hmm. Let that soak in for a bit.
So of course I have to dig out whatever quarters are on my person to try for the bizarre novelties. I was dispensed a "one-day marriage license" (which is TWICE as funny to me) and then a rock. Well, a rock would be nicer. It ate my two quarters and gave me nothing.
I should point out that when my sister Mabel went to the restroom (before me) she had found the "caution" sign blocking her way. She asked about it, and as I rolled up the cashier was laughing and saying, "Gosh, I wondered why everyone kept asking me if the bathroom was available..."
Have you let the previous bit sink in yet? Add the drama outside. A colorful if vulgar picture was starting to develop in the 1-hour photo lab that lives in my head.
We went to check out and were deeply amused by the gas-station novelties and the rack of hunter's aids. The Butt-Out 2 was particularly bizarre. (Go to hunterspec.com and look it up for yourself.) The police had arrived and were giving the cluster of folks a round of "What's all this then", and that was when I noticed that there were a bunch of kids that were part of the group. Not teens; kids. Babies. Toddlers. I don't know how many. Three? Maybe four? I noticed car seats in the vehicle.
So we went to get on the road and the cashier had come out to dump the trash as we were starting up the truck. Mabel started to talk to me in her UFO-Sightings-Sister voice, but I shushed her saying, "Maybel, hush! They'll thank we're makin' fun! We wuz talkin' in our NORTHERN voices inside!" She laughed and said, "Northern Voices?" To which I responded, "Yeah. Cousin Cletus sayz I sound jus' like a TV reporter in mah northern voice." (See, now you know why her name is Mabel for this story. For our purposes, my name is Thelma.)
On we went. We got into town, and yet again I had to try more than once to get a damned hotel room. My preferred hotel (and naturally the one we planned on using) turned out to be full. Of course, that meant driving all the way back out of town (it's about 15 miles or so) back to the highway junction to get the other motel with a reasonable rate. McCaig! We love you! Er. Like you. So this location is lacking in Wi-fi, but larger and with a nicer TV.
I got up as early as I could manage on Saturday (having gotten in around 2am) and headed out to the facility to visit TheSigOther. Got in with a minimum of fuss, as I know the drill. New rules were in effect, but I keep it very basic when I go anyway. (No longer allowed to wear watches.) I do the 45 minutes or so of processing and then go see him. Very nice visit! Well, except for the part where one of the two sandwich machines went down like windows 98 before I even got in the room.
See, this is why I wanted my purse. Even McGyver couldn't have fixed that machine. With a paper clip and something sticky (poster putty is my preferred tool) I could have fished out all that change and found the stupid penny some idiot put in there and then we all could have had lunch.
Bright side: The coffee machine worked. I indulged in that and so did he. MMm. Decaff.
We discussed the stories (OMG the STORIES! You guys! Wait until you see what he's planning NOW!!) and talked about the world. He would love to communicate with more people, so shoot me an email with your address and/or phone number and I'll send them along to him. If you're serious about phone calls, I suggest a Google Voice account set up to be a local number for him. (Ask me how!)
He's hanging in there but we've entered the part of the journey where it's a lot less exciting and a lot more of a grind. He would appreciate any books or letters that he can get. (Hint: E.R. Burroughs, Conan, Kipling, or Sherlock Holmes are helpful right now.)
I also nagged him (NAG NAG NAG!!) about writing to the kids. We came up with a stupid idea and I think it will actually work. He's going to write paper text messages to his daughter. You know, write a short phrase in text speak on a small piece of paper, put it in an envelope and mail it. Heck, I think this is so funny that some of you might get paper texts in the future. (I'll likely just stick them in your mailboxes or something.) I reminded him that it isn't about the kids writing back at all, just that he's talking to them.
You know, I miss our conversations. One of the reasons why this man is the Great Love of My Life is that he and I can have awesome conversations about the mechanics of writing, or philosophy, or that stupid SNL show, or whatever. He can still keep up with me and had nifty things to say. Plus the look on his face when I asked him about that "Butt Out 2" field dressing tool was precious. No, he hadn't heard of it either, despite his large family of hunters. Bwa ha ha ha...
Saturday I was good for a nap and some sleeping after the visit. We did go hit the crazy buffet/hibatchi/sushi place (Up to $8 bucks, but still worth every penny.) We also hit the McDonald's across the street for the WiFi so Mabel could handle some business. Then, some TV and sleeping. (Caught the tail end of a Leverage episode. Damn. Time to catch up...)
Sunday we got out by 8:30 and I dropped Mabel off at the McD so she could internet around while I did a brief Sunday visit. I stayed until about 10:45, then handled some business in Talladega proper, then headed up to pick up Mabel and head out of town. Because we got on the road early enough, I considered a special treat for the journey home.
But first we picked up some Subway in Birmingham, and in Mississippi we managed to stop at the exact same Shell station as we did on the way in. The weird thing was that the fog had prevented me from seeing the other station across the street, where I'm certain I've stopped before on one of my other trips. Freaky. It meant we could get pictures of the Butt Out 2. LOL. See Mabel's story about that...
So we roadtripped our way north. We hit a couple of wal-marts for water and various things. It was around dinner time when I realized that we would likely hit Sikeston at a time when Lambert's would be open. So Mah Syster Maybell An' I went to the home of the Throwed Rolls! Guess what, y'all? They're MSG free there! Whoo!
Oh yeah. We also discussed The Witches for Archon. Bwa ha ha ha. We have found our creative muses for the characterization of The Witches. No, I won't tell you who. Yet.
Got in around 11pm, which was later than I'd planned but worth it for the nice dinner (and break.) I might have to go out of my way to plan a Throwed Rolls visit as part of the next journey.
Oh, and me an' mah syster Maybell are plannin' to come to dat dere science-friction convention called Our Con this year. Our alien chil' has gotten SO big and she wanted t' see the big city. We think mebby she's ready for the bright lights of Collinsville.
This time I took a friend to keep me from getting the road hypnosis, which was good for a variety of reasons. For the purposes of this journal (You know, true believers, that I prefer not to identify anyone by their 'real' name in my LJ) let us call my companion my Sister Mabel. Hm. I'm not quite sure how to spell that. Maybell? Maiybull? Mehbal?
To begin, we got started later than I wanted to, but that was ok. Then we got started MUCH later than I wanted to due to several errands that needed to be run before we left. But that was OK, too.
So we headed out, and my poor brain's autopilot had a short in it. First I tried to go to my mother's house, but I realized after the fact that I had been mistaken TWICE. I had, indeed, meant to get off the highway at Bowles so that I could get on 141 south. Instead, I panicked, got back on 44 and started to head out to the facility in Steelville. Sigh.
Got back on track but added a good 20 minutes to our time. Sigh.
As a result of all of this, it was well dark by the time we hit Memphis, and once we crossed into Mississippi, the fog came for us. Initially, it was a pleasant fog, something to keep the road interesting and reminded me of stories of much more intense and disturbing fog. I should have avoided telling such stories, as the fog took umbridge to my belittlement and bulked up preventing me from seeing much of anything at all. When the street lights (all four of the ones on that stretch of highway) randomly appeared a single carlength ahead of me, I knew I needed to focus a little more sharply. Finally, we stopped for a potty break/snack acquisition.
And we got a SHOW! There, at the Shell station, was an SUV of some kind, which appeared to have been hit with a Jerry Springer Show Clown Car spell at some point. There was a cluster of... er... folks. Most of them were younger than I, but not high-school age. (Shame that, as the behavior was more like high-school age or Middle-school age.) There was some kind of screaming match in one of the Mississippi Redneck Dialects, peppered with spectacular swear words. Mabel and I were a little anxious about strolling past this exaggerated performance art but the need to pee was upon us. (Nothing QUITE like driving at 60+ MPH on a dark, unfamiliar interstate in another state in the fog of doom late at night when one must tinkle.)
Eventually, the cluster of folks coalesced closer to the vehicle, and we quietly snuck into the station. I'd like to point out that the other customers had gone to the counter and were in the middle of the "Shouldn't you be calling the police about this situation?" conversation. Oh. Good. That means we don't have to. We went to the bathroom that had two things that amused the crap out of me: A novelty dispenser that had two versions of the ridiculous "Pandora's Box" adult novelties, and some kind of off-brand black condom. The other thing that amused me? Two stalls, each fortified with a complete wall and locking door. With the door closed, my private stall was as private as a damned hotel room. No flimsy metal partitions, no. These were individual ROOMS with locking doors that sealed you away from anyone else in the restroom.
Hm. Private rooms, and a condom dispenser. Hmm. Let that soak in for a bit.
So of course I have to dig out whatever quarters are on my person to try for the bizarre novelties. I was dispensed a "one-day marriage license" (which is TWICE as funny to me) and then a rock. Well, a rock would be nicer. It ate my two quarters and gave me nothing.
I should point out that when my sister Mabel went to the restroom (before me) she had found the "caution" sign blocking her way. She asked about it, and as I rolled up the cashier was laughing and saying, "Gosh, I wondered why everyone kept asking me if the bathroom was available..."
Have you let the previous bit sink in yet? Add the drama outside. A colorful if vulgar picture was starting to develop in the 1-hour photo lab that lives in my head.
We went to check out and were deeply amused by the gas-station novelties and the rack of hunter's aids. The Butt-Out 2 was particularly bizarre. (Go to hunterspec.com and look it up for yourself.) The police had arrived and were giving the cluster of folks a round of "What's all this then", and that was when I noticed that there were a bunch of kids that were part of the group. Not teens; kids. Babies. Toddlers. I don't know how many. Three? Maybe four? I noticed car seats in the vehicle.
So we went to get on the road and the cashier had come out to dump the trash as we were starting up the truck. Mabel started to talk to me in her UFO-Sightings-Sister voice, but I shushed her saying, "Maybel, hush! They'll thank we're makin' fun! We wuz talkin' in our NORTHERN voices inside!" She laughed and said, "Northern Voices?" To which I responded, "Yeah. Cousin Cletus sayz I sound jus' like a TV reporter in mah northern voice." (See, now you know why her name is Mabel for this story. For our purposes, my name is Thelma.)
On we went. We got into town, and yet again I had to try more than once to get a damned hotel room. My preferred hotel (and naturally the one we planned on using) turned out to be full. Of course, that meant driving all the way back out of town (it's about 15 miles or so) back to the highway junction to get the other motel with a reasonable rate. McCaig! We love you! Er. Like you. So this location is lacking in Wi-fi, but larger and with a nicer TV.
I got up as early as I could manage on Saturday (having gotten in around 2am) and headed out to the facility to visit TheSigOther. Got in with a minimum of fuss, as I know the drill. New rules were in effect, but I keep it very basic when I go anyway. (No longer allowed to wear watches.) I do the 45 minutes or so of processing and then go see him. Very nice visit! Well, except for the part where one of the two sandwich machines went down like windows 98 before I even got in the room.
See, this is why I wanted my purse. Even McGyver couldn't have fixed that machine. With a paper clip and something sticky (poster putty is my preferred tool) I could have fished out all that change and found the stupid penny some idiot put in there and then we all could have had lunch.
Bright side: The coffee machine worked. I indulged in that and so did he. MMm. Decaff.
We discussed the stories (OMG the STORIES! You guys! Wait until you see what he's planning NOW!!) and talked about the world. He would love to communicate with more people, so shoot me an email with your address and/or phone number and I'll send them along to him. If you're serious about phone calls, I suggest a Google Voice account set up to be a local number for him. (Ask me how!)
He's hanging in there but we've entered the part of the journey where it's a lot less exciting and a lot more of a grind. He would appreciate any books or letters that he can get. (Hint: E.R. Burroughs, Conan, Kipling, or Sherlock Holmes are helpful right now.)
I also nagged him (NAG NAG NAG!!) about writing to the kids. We came up with a stupid idea and I think it will actually work. He's going to write paper text messages to his daughter. You know, write a short phrase in text speak on a small piece of paper, put it in an envelope and mail it. Heck, I think this is so funny that some of you might get paper texts in the future. (I'll likely just stick them in your mailboxes or something.) I reminded him that it isn't about the kids writing back at all, just that he's talking to them.
You know, I miss our conversations. One of the reasons why this man is the Great Love of My Life is that he and I can have awesome conversations about the mechanics of writing, or philosophy, or that stupid SNL show, or whatever. He can still keep up with me and had nifty things to say. Plus the look on his face when I asked him about that "Butt Out 2" field dressing tool was precious. No, he hadn't heard of it either, despite his large family of hunters. Bwa ha ha ha...
Saturday I was good for a nap and some sleeping after the visit. We did go hit the crazy buffet/hibatchi/sushi place (Up to $8 bucks, but still worth every penny.) We also hit the McDonald's across the street for the WiFi so Mabel could handle some business. Then, some TV and sleeping. (Caught the tail end of a Leverage episode. Damn. Time to catch up...)
Sunday we got out by 8:30 and I dropped Mabel off at the McD so she could internet around while I did a brief Sunday visit. I stayed until about 10:45, then handled some business in Talladega proper, then headed up to pick up Mabel and head out of town. Because we got on the road early enough, I considered a special treat for the journey home.
But first we picked up some Subway in Birmingham, and in Mississippi we managed to stop at the exact same Shell station as we did on the way in. The weird thing was that the fog had prevented me from seeing the other station across the street, where I'm certain I've stopped before on one of my other trips. Freaky. It meant we could get pictures of the Butt Out 2. LOL. See Mabel's story about that...
So we roadtripped our way north. We hit a couple of wal-marts for water and various things. It was around dinner time when I realized that we would likely hit Sikeston at a time when Lambert's would be open. So Mah Syster Maybell An' I went to the home of the Throwed Rolls! Guess what, y'all? They're MSG free there! Whoo!
Oh yeah. We also discussed The Witches for Archon. Bwa ha ha ha. We have found our creative muses for the characterization of The Witches. No, I won't tell you who. Yet.
Got in around 11pm, which was later than I'd planned but worth it for the nice dinner (and break.) I might have to go out of my way to plan a Throwed Rolls visit as part of the next journey.
Oh, and me an' mah syster Maybell are plannin' to come to dat dere science-friction convention called Our Con this year. Our alien chil' has gotten SO big and she wanted t' see the big city. We think mebby she's ready for the bright lights of Collinsville.
