My Social Network Road Trip

I’ve been looking around at the various license plates as I drive and I’ve seen a lot of North Carolina plates. Theirs say, “North Carolina. First in Flight.” A lot of the other ones have a state motto or something very inviting and calm, like “Louisiana. We’re really nice.” Or something like that. “Indiana. We like wheat.” Or random stuff.

So why is North Carolina trying to fight everybody? I mean, I know there are some intense ones (i.e. Live Free or Die) but it just seems like North Carolina’s is trying to prove something. Little competitive. Especially from a state that there are two of. Maybe that’s why. Well hang it up, North Carolina – I’m sure South Carolina was first in something too. You’re both equal… essentially.

And then it was New Orleans.  It’s a wonderful city full of culture…  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5eNmJe5430U  and debauchery… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TyKIKECIA5U (yes, that is a fire hydrant that he’s dancing up on).

I decided to detail Bourbon Street on film.  This says a lot… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nwSZwpqyYeE

Through a fog of brightly colored beverages, IHOP, beignets, street performers and a lovely talk with a slightly racist (or verbally-eccentric) water vendor with a thick Creole accent – my New Orleans experience was lovely and deservedly exhausting. 

When I drove my friend to the airport at 5am on Sunday, we remarked to each other that it was cruel that we had to be up and responsible while the streets remained packed with people throwing caution to the bead-dispensing balconies.  As he was detailing his disappointment, a group of young men passed our stopped car.  One of them was shirtless, twirling his white tee around his head like he was trying to lasso another bad decision.  He looked right at the passenger side window and yelled, “WOOOOOO!” as if proving my friends’ point with his intoxicated joy.  

It took me two extra hours to get out of the city because of traffic on I-10…. the visit was worth every minute.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BNHShru9nbc

On my way to New Orleans, I passed through West Point, Georgia and saw a giant Kia plant.  I seriously considered pulling over and asking them what color car this is…. and what they were thinking.

Just to be clear, this is not an outrageously ugly car – where you can take some pride of ownership, a sort of ”Isn’t it out of control how ugly my car is?  Everyone can be in on the joke – haha!”  It’s just very unpleasant to look at.  This is not a color that would be chosen on purpose.  You don’t necessarily think it’s hideous… you’re just confused.  Also, can I remind everyone that there are no power windows, doors or cruise control (as I drive upwards of 9 hours a day).

Did I name the car?  Yes.  I’ve been referring to it as Roger Clinton.  It feels as if it’s trying to ruin something awesome.  Well it’s not going to work, Roger Clinton!  I’m going to the White House of road trips and your ugly-shenanigans can’t stop me!

Next up was Atlanta where I managed to arrive at rush hour and still miss traffic completely – this is nothing short of a Southern miracle and I want to thank whatever biscuit-wielding fairy godmother made that happen. 

As I arrived at Sarah’s gated condo, the guard came out to log my license plate number and direct me to visitor parking.  He looked at the car for a minute and one side of his lip raised, as if it was giving off a mysterious odor, “What color would you call this car?”  I shook my head realizing there was no use starting a discussion about it.  “Bronze?…  No, no I’ll just put down that it’s a Kia,” he said.  I drove off still shaking my head.

For our nightly entertainment, Sarah and her two delightful friends took me to a club in the nearby neighborhood of Bunkhead.  We tried horrible bubble gum flavored vodka drinks, danced, took photo booth pictures, danced more, took a picture with a Bob Barker look-a-like and got some free shots from a drunkard who insisted on displaying what he called, ”southern charm” by throwing down his card and promising to leave us alone.

Watch what naturally happened when the girls discovered the dj door and I had the camera out – this grace and showmanship was not planned – that should tell you what kind of night it was.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OwPqUZj2dQ

Towards the end of the night, I decided that the best way to capture the evening would be to take a panoramic video of the club.  Yep, that’s really what I thought was a good idea (and yes, that is Gloria Estefan playing).  Again, that should tell you what kind of night it was.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrbYudxez6w

I had a great time with the ladies of Hotlanta and Sarah, you’re completely right – Chick-fil-a breakfast is unbelievable!  Who knew a chicken biscuit could be so good?!

Dear GPS lady,
I hear you. I’m keeping left. I’m not going to exit until you say, “Exit.” So there’s no need to keep telling me to “Keep left.” I’m not going anywhere.

And frankly, I don’t like your superior tone. I already knew that I wasn’t going to get off the highway and go a totally different direction. You’re not the only one with access to maps, GPS lady. Also, I wouldn’t lose much sleep over turning your power off and looking the directions up online. Let’s keep that in mind.

And yes, sometimes when I’m exiting for gas or food, I’ll leave your volume up so I can hear you say, “Make U-turn,” or “Turn Right” and blatantly ignore you. And yes, sometimes I’ll even yell back, “Well I’m not going to turn right! I’m gonna eat at Wendy’s and find my own way back to the highway!”

So put that in your pipe and re-calculate it. Chump.

Sincerely,
Lisa

I continued in a southerly direction to Myrtle Beach, SC and the home of Bubba, his wife Andrea and their 5 month old baby, Brianna.

We ate dinner beachside, with the perfect breeze blowing around and the sounds of acoustic covers of all things 90s rock.  Note to all other acoustic guitar players: This is the setting for you.  Don’t break out the tunes at your friends’ apartment and don’t play crowded bars – no one wants it.  You will only be truly appreciated in this relaxed beach setting.

Andrea accompanied me down to the water where I could get some totally uneventful video and ask about her favorite part of living in Myrtle Beach. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7arE2WHP8Kg

Bubba had the next day off and free passes to the small amusement park that’s 3 minutes from their house so we resolved to get there when it opened and hit its 4 roller coasters before sending me off to Atlanta.  Thinking it opened at 10am put us in a prime spot for its actual opening at 11am, where the bald cop from Beverly Hills Cop was waiting to open the gate.  I pointed out the resemblance to Bubba who seemed less than impressed at the former bald partner to Judge Reinhold (I thought it was a good call).  We walked directly to their main attraction, The Time Machine.  I took stock of Bubba’s feelings as we went.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=njLg7O0A1Dk

You know it’s a good sale when you can get discounted Band, Dragon and Fairy merchandise.  Being one of only 30 people in the park meant we were the first ones to ride each roller coaster and we took advantage by riding in both the first and last cars in each.  And for vindication I should mention that as the bald man let us out of the park, Bubba turned to me and said, “That is Taggart.”  I knew it was a good call.

One of the smaller roller coasters, the Iron Horse, was a pretty lame excuse for thrill-seeking. But check out how hard they tried to sell it at the end (this is after 45 seconds of a super mild ride with not a single drop or “thrill” in site)… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amUPcUUSAk4

The past few days, I’ve been driving around Virginia. It’s a state I’ve driven through many times before but recently, I’ve seen even more of the “Virginia is for Lovers” bumper stickers. So at one point I started composing a list of some other things Virginia might be for.

* Traffic. Cause there’s a shitload of it. An extra hour at 1pm on a Wed? Really, DC area?

* Cheap cigarettes

* Firework enthusiasts… and I’m guessing consequently, people with hand burns and missing digits.

* Naked-backed Motorcyclists. The shirts tuck in guys. Come on, it’s windy out there. Other states got with the program.

* Log home builders. There must be some kind of tax credit for people who want to sell log homes near the highway. Didn’t actually see any log homes that people were living in… but lots of them being sold.

So in conclusion, Virginia is for Log Home Purchases.

On the way out, I stopped at famous Carl’s custard stand which Stacy assured me was delicious and well-known (and Chris assured wasn’t worth the hype… although his distaste for the rep of the place never allowed him to actually try it).  I got a small cone and immediately went to take a picture of the sign.  In this 30 second period, I had become covered in melted custard.  Like a Jerry Lewis routine, I tried to take the picture quickly but the damage on my hands and somehow face was only growing worse with each passing second.  So hey Fredericksburg – I’ve got an easier way to cover a baby in dessert for a portrait.

Even though it was one in the afternoon, I was still hitting stupid DC traffic.  My mood would’ve soured but then I saw this and laughed outloud, in the car by myself.  That’s right, this man is an Elkoholic.  He had to pay for that at a store and then actually put it on his car.  Priceless.

Aubrey and Kevin have an amazing place in Alexandria.  The condo is decked out in all things huge and delightful (their TV and monitor are bigger then my old apt) and they also have a 10 month old named Kolton and 2 jaguars – yes, they’re really just cats but they’re mixed with some kind of amazon cat and seriously, you should see what one of them did to a roll of toilet paper.  Plus the door to the bathroom was closed before and after – and if Murder, She Wrote has taught me anything - that tells me that either they were in the bathroom the whole time or they had a key.  So as far as I know, they’re jaguars with key-utilization powers…. and that’s terrifying.

Aubrey was nice enough to take me to Trader Joe’s where I could purchase more trail mix then a sane person should consume in a lifetime, because apparently the lovely openness of the store and brownie sample made me ignore two things: 1.) that I wasn’t hikingcross-country and 2.) that trail mix is going to take a backseat to every Dairy Queen, Chick-fil-a and Sonic that I pass.

In her search to entertain baby Kolton, Aubrey discovered that a certain techno gummy bear song makes him go nuts.  I was lucky enough to observe this first-hand (he really picks up the pace towards the end)… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SgC17I61HRo

First up, the historic city of Fredericksburg. Luckily, I was staying with the Assistant Curator at the Fredericksburg Museum & Cultural Center (and his lovely girlfriend) so I would have a mature and knowledgeable guide on my evening tour of the city.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mIg2ydkdT-0

Fredericksburg, home of George Washington as a youth… and Corky’s Military, Fire, Police & Rescue attire.

There were cute cafes, antique stores and portrait studios where they apparently dump babies in cakes for fun.

We walked past Washington’s mother’s house and then watched teenagers fighting with fake swords in the square behind the museum. Chris explained to me that they were LARPing (Live Action Role Play) but when I wanted to get closer, they stopped like racoons abandoning their trashcan of old timey sword fighting.

As we walked around in the dark, we passed the Confederate Cemetery. The black stillness surrounded us as I took the video below of the entrance, looking eerie and unnerving. Goosebumps formed on my arms as I slowly panned to the open doorway next to the gate. I focused in on the sign that I was sure held warnings of horrifying intensity or this… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ffz9wqM3bSk

These crazy kids are moving to Belgium in a few weeks for Grad school.  Along with their hospitality, they gave me a foot-shaped ashtray that reads, “We got a kick out of Kentucky” and a mostly-eaten jug of endamame.  It was all superb.  Good luck with the Flemish, guys!

After throwing all my belongings into a 5×10 storage unit…

and sleeping on an air mattress in my empty apartment for a week, I ventured out on the road.

The passengers on the $3.50 Megabus trip entertained me all the way to Philly. I sat in an area of young people on laptops – a technological Benetton ad. One of our more obnoxious brethren elicited this comment from the amazingly vocal old couple behind me, “That one’s wearing sunglasses. But it’s dark in here.” They then started pointing out everything we passed in a sort of conversational-yell…
> That’s a Red Roof Inn.
>> Over there is a Residence Inn.
> That’s nice.

I found myself wishing my friend from the line had made it onto the bus. She was a young Indian girl who found out that the tickets cost $20 on site but $3.50 if you purchased online. She called her father to have him buy her ticket on the new computer her and her brother had just bought him. It was the perfect side of the conversation to overhear.
> No, you have to put your name in. If there is an asterisk next to it, then you have to fill it in. Don’t put your address there. It says NAME! You have to login. You have to login with the username provided to you in the email. It’s in the email. The email!

It was hard not to outwardly enjoy hearing what started as an instructional walk-through so quickly disintegrate into public yelling. I was glad I wasn’t doing this trip by bus (especially since mine was 45 minutes late and I was standing on the sidewalk at noon on a 92 degree day in Manhattan). But I knew I’d miss out on overhearing a lot of great things. I resolved to eat at lots of truck stops and keep my ears open.

The bus pulled up to 30th and Market, I took a train to the airport and a shuttle to the rental car depot. The guy snickered when I asked what kind of car I was getting. “It’s small,” he said. “That’s fine,” I replied. “I don’t need a lot of room – just hoping for good gas mileage. I’ll be doing a lot of driving.” He laughed again while looking at the car’s details on the screen. When I walked to spot 613, I quickly knew why. It was ugly. The color could be described as Underwhelming-Bordering-On-Unpleasant. It wasn’t quite mustard, it wasn’t bronze… it wasn’t a color. Knowing I’d have to describe it in print made me confused and a little sick. She was even prettier on the inside. Stains on the seats, no power locks or windows, no cruise control. I wondered how long it would be until I cursed this hideous monster – or if I would grow to love her, like your friend’s shelter dog whose not quite right and hears things that aren’t there and runs into walls.

The driving begins…