Archive for November, 2006
November 16, 2006 at 3:26 am · Filed under Wedding
The drive down was wholly unremarkable (save our brush with the confederacy). I drove the entire way while Lisa slept for moral support. I had stocked up on podcasts and audiobooks which are like consciousness-kryptonite for my blushing bride.
When we went to Disneyland in California we drove all the way down from Sacremento and didn’t see a single Disney sign until we were 2 miles away from the exit. It was incredibly different than my memories of driving down to Disney World with my parents, when we would see South of the Border signs while we were still far up north. They would eventually give way to Disney billboards and finally to the actual green and white highway signs. Finally seeing your exit was a great release after countless hours of anticipation as you counted down the miles with each passing sign.
Here I was, driving down to Florida with my soon-to-be-wife. Here’s one of those highway signs I remember so fondly. Not only was I going to Disney, I was going to my wedding.
The suspense was killing me.
When we were young, my sisters, my brother and I would have fights to see who would be the first out of the car to touch the ground in Disney World. There was something about being the first to connect to the place that made us commit acts of physical violence against one another.
It may be that we were going to hit each other anyway and this was a convenient excuse.
It may be that, since our parents had bought a van with a TV and a VCR because we took so many of these long road trips, we had carefully selected the movies that would grant the person whose turn it was to pick the most satisfaction while simultaneously acting as violent torture to the others. My sister Lizzie had this down to a science as she had only two movies she ever wanted to see: Grumpy Old Men or the Drew Barrymore fairytale vomit-fest Ever After. I have hatred for those movies that burns inside me with the fire of a thousand suns.
It was probably both of those things I just spend too long describing. But it was also that it was Disney. Our parents took us to a lot places, but this is the place where just touching the ground bestowed something wonderful.
It only made sense to get married there.
This wasn’t the first time Lisa and I had made a big roadtrip together. We had driven to, around, and from Ohio when my family made a big trip to King’s Island and Cedar Point. That was probably 18 hours or so of driving altogether.
This time, however, 18 hours was only the first leg of our trip. There was a lot more at stake, too. We had to worry about everything we had with us. We had spent months making, preparing, sweating over all this stuff and now we had it crammed into boxes filling our minivan to the brim.
The stress. The worrying. There was so much still to do.
And yet that all went away when we saw the Disney signs.
It was raining, too. The weather was lousy for the entire drive that day. We would go through pockets of rain where it fell as if it were not in drops but in a solid block. You were no longer driving but moving through liquid space. Every time it would clear up we’d have a little hope that it would stay that way, but every time it would come back in full force just a few miles down the road.
The weather didn’t matter anymore, though. We were almost in Disney.
For the first trip Lisa and I ever took to Disney together we stayed at the Animal Kingdom Lodge. Savannah View room on the Zebra Trail. We didn’t see one damn zebra the entire 9 day stay although we would sit out on our balcony throughout the day and just marvel at the animals. Our balcony overlooked a watering hole and there was something marvelous about watching the animals commune around it. It wasn’t one type of animal like you’d see in a zoo, but multiple species sharing the same space, standing only a few feet apart. We’d just sit there and watch, together.
Lisa did find a zebra, though. On our last day, as we were getting ready to leave, Lisa somehow got lost and made her way out onto a fire escape. Once she found her way back to the room, she dragged me out onto it to point out her miraculous find. There, peeking just beyond the corner of the building, was a zebra’s ass.
We were coming back. This time we were staying concierge but I had requested a view of the same watering hole. We got it.
Here we were, just a few minutes away from returning to our favorite place on earth.
All we had to do was follow the sign.
November 16, 2006 at 2:41 am · Filed under Wedding
For all those interested, as of July 10th, 2006 the Quality Inn was a fine, upstanding establishment with a courteous staff and a prime location directly off the exit. I’d recommend it to any weary traveler. There’s some pics of the room after the jump.
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November 16, 2006 at 2:17 am · Filed under Wedding
We decided to make the 23 1/2 hour, 1,166 mile drive over the course of two days. Using the I-95 Exit Information Guide, we chose Santee, SC as the halfway point where we’d spend the night. AAA gave the thumbs up to the Quality Inn, so that’s where we stayed.
The drive itself was fairly uneventful. The most notable thing about it is that we were carrying enough stuff to fill a large minivan from floor to ceiling, front to back. It was as if the entire back of the car contained a solid block of concrete until I applied the brakes. At that point, something odd would fly forward and try to kill Lisa or me. Something that could only be found in the car of a Disneymooner, such as a tophat with mouse ears or a box of monogrammed petal cones.
Thankfully the traffic conditions were not bad at all and a scant 14 1/2 hours after we left we arrived in Santee, SC with only minor concussions and woefully empty stomachs.
A little backstory: I’m a big tub of goo. However, I once was a much bigger tub of goo. 312 pounds of goo to be exact. It was so bad, I had trained myself to dislodge my jaw so I could swallow live pigs whole. Those days are behind me now. I started a simple diet at the end of January. It was the Hacker’s Diet and all it required is that I count calories and keep the amount consumed to a level below what I burn on a daily basis. You know, how non-tubs of goo eat. From January 28th to July 9th, I was able to lose 72 pounds. 240 lbs was still fat, but not the kind of fat that requires the extension seatbelt the flight attendants use during the safety spiel.
It came at a price, though, as the calorie counting was accomplished by eating frozen dinners three meals a day for nearly seven months. As you can imagine, the prospect of eating something, anything other than Stouffer’s was of the utmost urgency.
Southern BBQ was what I craved. With the exception of perhaps Soul Food, there was nothing further away from dieting. I was unfamiliar with the BBQ of the Carolinas. The only advertising of BBQ on I-95 was for a place called Maurice’s BBQ. The billboards for Maurice’s were…how can I put this delicately…grotesque. That’s really an understatement. To be fair to Maurice’s, before I tear the place to pieces, the food was actually quite good. They just don’t know how to advertise. You know how fast food advertisements ensure the only the most perfectly prepared and delicous looking versions of their food appear, sensually lit and framed so that you’re confused as to whether you want to eat it or screw it? Maurice’s doesn’t bother with that. In fact, Maurice doesn’t bother even placing the food in some kind of context, it’s just there on the sign as if it exists in a void.
You would think, then, since the food itself is left to its own merits that it would at least appear to be appetizing. You would be wrong. The food, a chopped BBQ Pork Sandwich known as the “Big Pig”, looks like it could be served in a Dickensian orphanage or in some Soylent Green-esque dystopian future cafe. It is almost disturbing to look at, as if you’re witnessing the aftermath of some bizarre accident involving a helicopter and a man on stilts. The pork doesn’t so much sit on the bun as it does overflow it, and not in a good way, in a festering wound sort of way. Here, take a look for yourself:
I couldn’t find a picture of the actual billboards in question and we certainly didn’t want to attempt to capture one without vomiting. Here’s a closer look at the meatspill:
Somehow my need for BBQ overtook my common sense and we consciously chose to ignore the advertising. We patronized the local Maurice’s Gourmet BBQ. Hey, the sign outside said “Best Ribs In Town! ” and that’s an offer I can’t refuse. We placed our order only to find out that the ribs were not ready and would not be ready for a good 20 minutes. I had waited 6 months for some BBQ, I could wait another 20, so we found a seat and perused the menu to kill time.
This wasted all of a minute and thirty seconds. Our attention turned to the restaurant decor. Odd details began to pop out. Were those confederate flag stickers all over the place? Yes. Yes, those are confederate flags. What’s that about?
We wandered into the little souvenier shop at the front of the restaurant to thumb through the books and–wait, are those actual, full-sized confederate flags? You’ve got to be joking me. What are these books about?
Sweet lord, they’re still fighting the civil war. All the books were in defense of the confederacy.
I’m not sure why I found this so surprising. South Carolina started the damn confederacy. Someone’s relatives thought it was a good idea. It was just odd to see it so…out in the open. Not on the pickup of some jackass where it shares space on the back window with Pissing Calvin Facsimile. It’s in the gift shop of a fast food joint. Not just a bumper sticker, but actual flags with poles attached. Pamphlets? Try racks of books.
There’s 14 other Maurice’s BBQs in South Carolina. I wonder if they stock in ribs and racism. Maybe this was just the only one, the bright idea of a manager who also thinks that not having any ribs ready when you order them is the way to do business in fast food.
The ribs were pretty good. I’d never had the South Carolina Mustard Sauce (or even heard of it). It took some getting used to (it was some heavy stuff) but I took a liking to it.
I probably should have protested the food.
But I probably should do a lot of things.
