My mind is a dangerous place. Make sure you wear a cup.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Minutia from the road..

Birmingham. I am here.

The Monte Carlo did not, as it turns out, have XM radio. I was lied to!

And the car was filthy. Trash on the floor in back, dog hair all over the back seat. A jagged part of an aluminum can and some crystallized matter in the trunk. And the windshield wiper fluid was low, so I had to endure that *ding* going off every so often until I bought some and filled it myself.


This wouldn't have happened if Laura had been working the counter at National. Laura and I have a good relationship, and often if an upgrade from a full size was available she would give it to me at no extra cost. I'd get an SUV, or a Cadillac, or a Magnum. But now she has Saturday nights off, and I don't know the new woman very well.

Damn it.

Anyhow...It was a couple of hours and past Tallahassee when I finally figured out how the A/C worked. Which came in handy. And once I found it, my swerving on the road was cut way down. Hey, it's hard to stay in one lane when you're checking your messages on your cell phone, picking music on your iPod, and trying to puzzle out how the A/C works!


Then I had a scare in Cottonwood, FL shortly I got off I-10. Just before you get to town you crest a small hill, after which you see that the speed limit at the bottom of the hill is a paltry 35. Which is much slower than you are usually going. And to make matters worse in my case was that I didn't see the sign until I was halfway down the hill. And to make matters still worse there was a police car parked right by the sign.


Now when I travel on Sundays out of town for work, it's always a long drive; five to eight hours or so depending on where I'm going. So I like to be comfortable. So I don't wear my sneakers. I just drive in my stocking feet or, once in a while, barefoot.

Today I was in stocking feet. So I see the sign and the cop at the same time and I push down on the brake. And because I have socks on, my foot slips off. And the sign gets closer. So I step on it again. And my foot slips off again.


The third time I make purchase, and I manage to hit 35 just as I cross the plane of the sign. Whew. But wait. He's pulling out and following me. Crap. I would rather shave my scotum with a cheese grater than go back and tell my boss that I got a speeding ticket.


But then he turned off, and everything in my world was peachy keen again. Until about 30 minutes later when I passed another cop I noticed too late and slowed down, but I really didn't know what the limit was. Had I been going too fast? He pulled out and followed me for a little while, then he turned off as well.


So I make it without incident to Ozark, AL where I decide to gas up. I usually stop in Brundidge, about 20 miles further, but I'm sick of the store there. The bathroom is disgusting and they don't carry Dasani water. I ain't drinkin' no welfare water.

So I put on my sneakers, start the gas pump, and hobble inside (it was a long ride). Now I never tie my sneakers at the gas stop, because I like to see if someone will point out to me that my shoes are untied. It happens about half the time.

I don't know why I do it.

So I use the bathroom and purchase some tasty Dasani. No one mentions the shoes. The laces are really long. It's a wonder I don't trip and fall over them. I head out the door and stop. The car isn't at the gas pumps. I momentarily panic.


And then I realize there is a door and gas pumps on either side of the store, and I just walked out the other door.


I finish filling up but the receipt thingy on the pump is out of paper so I have to go back in to get a receipt. Which gives everyone a second chance to tell me my shoes are untied but nobody does.


And then, for a reason known not even to me, before I get back in the car I tie my sneakers and wear them for the rest of the trip.

Don't ask me.

The rest of the trip was uneventful and I made it to Birmingham in one piece. Which is how I prefer to arrive, generally.

Before I checked in I went to the Books-A-Million down the street and bought several magazines and a book on learning HTML.

Told ya I was gonna do it.

The didn't have the Dummies book but I got one that was even better. It looks simple and it's all in color. I am looking forward to perusing it.

After check in I went to Moe's Southwest Grill for my supper to bring back to the hotel. There was a little language problem with the guy who took my order, and my tacos were soft shell instead of hard. And they do their nachos a strange way. The don't melt cheese on them, they give you a cup of queso dip to pour over them.


Back at the hotel, the tacos disintegrated because i had ordered them with everything (which I would not have done if I had known the shells weren't hard). So I just dumped everything in one big pile and tried to eat it the best I could.

Most of it is still in the refrigerator.

Oh yeah, that was another thing. I called from the road to make sure I was down for a king size room (which has a fridge, a microwave, and a larger desk, which I need with two laptops). And, naturally, they had me down for a double. Luckily they were able to switch me because if they hadn't I would have raised a stink. I'm an elite club member (because I stay at La Quinta hotels at least 25 nights a year) and that entitles me to a king size room. Damn it.

But it all worked out. And I have managed to make a really long post out of very very little. But I couldn't help it. I just had to share.

I'm that kind of guy.


Blogger Mike said...

Making it in one piece is the most gratifying part of reaching the final destination anyways. Everyone in AL either goes barefooted or can't tie their shoes anyway, no wonder you didn't get many "reminders"

10:05 PM  
Blogger merlinprincesse said...

I love when people tell story in the manner of "On the Road". This one is funny even if nothig really happenned. I've been hooked till the end...Good job Mr Kerouac!

10:36 PM  
Blogger The Wrath of Dawn said...

I'm that kind of guy.

And we're so glad you are, darling.

But ya gotta wear shoes when you're driving. It's the law. (At least it is here in the frozen north where we don't cotton with no brake pedal slippage.)

9:43 AM  
Blogger Prairie Girl said...

The best stories are expanded little bits that people can relate to. You had me with this one, I could see down the hill, I've been to that gas station (in between a double set of pumps) and I swear I've eaten the same taco mess.

Very visual with a skatingly cool style.

1:40 PM  
Blogger Mr. Fabulous said...

Mike--So you've been to Alabama! LOL

Merklinprincesse--Thanks! :)

Dawn--I don't think it's against the law here. Anything goes in Alabama. It's like Thunderdome.

PG--You are too too kind!

9:36 PM  

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