Oct 31, 2016

RT2016 day 12 and 13: French Quarter Halloween

The final stage of Road Trip 2016's J2 (Jess and Jen's) Vacation was two nights at the Four Points Sheraton French Quarter.  We paid a small fortune and booked at least 9 months in advance to score a balcony room on Bourbon Street.  We know, we know, that's a tourist attraction. But it's a wild, crazy, scary, hog wild entertaining time.  It's supposedly better than Mardis Gras because the weather is more predictable.  During Halloween there is generally no rain and the weather is still pushing upper 70's.   So, for our entire trip, while back home in Oregon they are suffering through rain, we've been blessed with warm sunshine. 

View from our balcony
Lots of these type of costumes...and my favorites.
Our balcony room is on the 4th floor, which frankly, is a bit high to really get great photos.  It is also too high to, in my opinion, safely throw beads.  But, it's a great way to get the experience and not be in the thick of the madness.

Oh and what madness it is.  Take Vegas and multiply it times 1000.  Take the best Halloween party you've ever been to, add 100,000 more people and that many more costumes, and you get this.  It's a rip roaring, ear splitting, parade of freaks.   It's people in elaborate costumes walking stately through the crowd to drunks stumbling past with their shirts off and often in their tighty whiteys (or purple or reds).  It's a whole lot of men wearing less than they should be...tutus, speedos, naked lady costumes, feather boas, preacher outfits, and a hell of a lot of men in slutty dresses.  And speaking of slutty, there are a few hundred slutty ladies, drunk ladies, church ladies, regal ladies, and even scary ladies.  There are things out here that I may never forget, that my eyes won't forgive me for, and that my face will always have laugh lines to blame them on.  Every barn animal, video game, nursery rhyme, Disney movie, Saturday Night Live sketch, fiction and non fiction movie, every condiment, food, and even occupation has been accounted for.  No one or thing has been spared.  

Possibly a supporter of Alien Rights?
And then there are the parades.  They randomly come through the night, sometimes with a theme and other times not, bringing their marching bands, flashing lights, screaming costumed partygoers and beads.  Beads everywhere.  Beads being thrown from balconies, to balconies, on balconies, and on all the passersby who strut to and fro, oven passing our location up to 20 times or more.  As they pass, we can see the transformation the night brings...from sober partier to fantastically intoxicated breast showing irresponsible freaks of nature.

Hot guys were on the balcony below us.  Literally.  This one was burning up in this costume. 
Despite the noise and the smells of vomit, stale beer, sweat, all mixed with the fragrant of all types of food that torture of our senses, we keep watching.  It's too entertaining to turn away.  We spent around 5-8 hours just watching, laughing, tossing beads, comparing photos, toasting to the tragedy that is this scene.  This is what we came for.  To see grown men and women acting like animals. No doubt, that is what we have seen. 

We have also seen, here on Bourbon Street, the honest to goodness Church goers that come and try to push God's word in the faces of these animals.  These Churchies carry 15 foot crosses and bring word of how terrible homosexuality is, of how we are all going to hell, of how only the righteous will be saved.  They stand among the crowd with their bullhorns and their pamphlets fighting the good fight against evil.  From my view, on the 4th floor, it appears that the only real evil in life is not accepting everyone for how they are and trying to push your beliefs onto strangers.

Drag Queen vs. Churchies

Here, on Halloween, we accept them all.  We welcome them all. Halloween in the French Quarter is something I would encourage you all to do once in your life.  Take in the bliss that is the French Quarter, experience the freedom of becoming, just for one night or a weekend, whatever your heart desires. 

When the sun rises tomorrow, we'll be back to our normal lives.  We'll be packing our bags, preparing our trip back to reality.  A reality that starts and ends with working so we can afford to do whatever we want, to go where we want, only to be told we don't have enough time or money to do so.  This, on these streets littered with empty beer glasses, beads, religious flyers, and people all whacked out and dressed like crazy freaks...this is freedom, albeit short lived and perhaps a little more crazy than it needs to be.  And freedom is good.  Because when I sit at my desk on Wednesday at 6:30 a.m. prepared to finish the week this is what will keep me going.  I'll sit back and have a moment where I hear a little voice inside my head that says, "Remember when...."  And I'll smile
Because I'll always remember.  And those memories are what make up a life.

 










RT 2016: Day 11: Garden District Day 2

Dinner eating his dinner.  
Headed to a Gator tour today since Jenn decided she's not a chicken sh*t (for those of you who are not delicate, that word is shit).   The tour was a slow pontoon boat with about 25 people on board.  The captain was an original Cajun who actually lives in the Bayou (or so he said).   The tour was educational but frankly, the last one I took on a 6 man boat was a lot more entertaining to me...and we got a lot closer to and saw more gators.  There was a little chap of about 5' who swam toward our boat, snagged a marsh mellow then swam away.  By chap I mean gator.  That was about the extent of the excitement unless you count about two dozen turtles and a 2' gator that was actually on board in a box.  Everyone took turns holding it but I passed.  I don't play with my food.  Some great photos, though.

These were HUGE lily pads. 

I like to call this one "Jessica's photo" so if you see it on Jenn's page, you know who posted it first. 

Turtle family hanging out in the sun. 

Memorial for a victim of Katrina...his house is just out of the photo, totally demolished.   


After the tour, I stayed at the hotel while Jenn toured the Garden District.  She saw all these things that I was much too lazy to see:  Sandra Bullock's house, Peyton Manning's family home to name a few.  Me, I don't care where Sandra lives, though I wish her the best and if she's reading, please send money.  

But, I wasn't a total bore.  I did laundry.  You may think, oh, what a great way to spend your vacation, but I like the people part of vacation (partial lie) so I wanted to see who else was doing laundry while on vacation.  I spent probably 45 minutes talking to a great lady from New York.  She was a Walking Dead fan so we chit chatted about the latest deaths and about how it's much more than a zombie show.  In fact, I just read an interview by some famous dude who writes zombie movies (Mr. What's His Name) and he said the Walking Dead was actually a soap opera with zombies.  Hater.  Are you tired of the Walking Dead?  Write your own blog and you won't have to read this one. 

Later, I saw the woman and her entire family in the lobby.  They were dressed up and headed to the French Quarter.  Of course I had to take her photo.
Trump University Graduate to the left, my Walking Dead buddy (Cat) in the middle.
Also, in the lobby of our hotel, we saw a wonderful costume from Alice In Wonderland.  Check this one out.  It was made by the woman's son who apparently sews for drag queens.  Not sure what that means, but somehow the woman thought it warranted pointing out.  Fantastic costume! 


Back in the room, I took a nap and Jenn went into her room.  So halfway between awake and asleep, I have what can only be described as a haunting occur in the room with me.  Someone tried to push me upward while I was lying on the couch.  I shit you not.  Scared the bejebus out of me.  I can only imagine I was not awake and was dreaming, but it was one of those dreams that stick with you and makes you wonder if you really are alone....I told Jenn about it and she said she had some weird dreams the night before about the haunted house behind the hotel.  Great.  Fantastic. 

We slipped off to Voodoo BBQ in order to calm my nerves and build my strength.  And that night, you can bet I slept with the EMF reader near my bed.  And with the light on.  Around 5 am I grew a pair and decided to turn the light off.  I got back in bed, got comfy, and the darn EMF reader went off like a fire alarm, beeping and flashing.  Scared the living crap out of me.  Seriously.  It had been on all night without a peep and the second I turn the light off, I get a reading.  After a quick change of diapers, I went back to sleep and didn't have any other issues.  

Note to self:  EMF readers suck.  

Oct 29, 2016

RT 2016: Day 10: Myrtles Plantation to New Orleans

Leaving Myrtles Plantation slightly disappointed for not having seen one ghost, we headed toward some other plantations and New Orleans.  Apparently the plantations think they are worth a lot more than I do.  We drove past a few plantations and Jenn took photos...but didn't tour any. 

Our first stop was Katie's Restaurant.  This place has a Portland vibe.  And the food, oh the food is worth the stop!  Garlic Feta Fries, Hulu pizza (Canadian bacon, pineapple, chicken, and BBQ sauce) were both fantastic.  Seriously, if you get to New Orleans and you don't stop at Katie's, you are missing a gem.  

After trudging through traffic we arrived at the in the Garden District at Avenue Plaza.  (Thank you to Jenn's aunt for allowing us to stay here!)  Avenue Plaza is a large Worldmark resort that is directly on the trolley line with great restaurants within walking distance. 

After ditching the rental car (because you don't need a car in New Orleans in the tourist sector and certainly don't want to pay for parking, if you can find it) we made our way to Royal Street for a Killers Tour.  

Walking what seemed like miles in the hot, humid, action packed French Quarter was a lot like waking up in Vegas to find you're tied up and have been placed in the trunk of a Ford Fiesta. Not like that's happened, YET, but I can imagine it would suck.   Our tour met in the front of a famous building that houses spells and other freaky stuff I'd rather not mess with.   Yeah, potions and spell ingredients?  No thanks.  Church is starting to sound better and better.

Our tour guide was a festive drama queen named Randy who was very entertaining.  He was very knowledgeable and very, very peppy.  Loved him.  During a pit stop we found out his master plan is to move to New York, work in a gay bar (you know, cause he's gay, which I pretended to be shocked about), and drive an Uber. It was pretty interesting to listen to him. He has such a passion for life.   Just being around him made me want to go to NY and work in a gay bar so I could watch him in action.  I think he's a real heart breaker who does it with flair and a lot of waving of the arms and intense facial expressions. 

Back at the hotel I pulled out the sleeper sofa (I'm getting the luxury arrangements) and quickly dozed off.  Jenn, again, was unable to sleep due to the spirits who came to her dreams.  I'm pretty sure she had nightmares about the tour but she's certain it has to do with the haunted house on the property.  All I know for sure is I'm glad I'm not paying the light bill on this place. 




RT 2016: day 9: Biloxi to St. Francisville, LA Haunted Plantation


Jenn returned to the room late with no millions.  The next morning we hit the road and headed to St. Francisville, LA.   What was there?  Haunted plantation of course.  But, prior to getting there, we had to pass a Bass Pro Shops.   When I travel I stop at almost every Bass Pro Shop and or Cabelas that I see.  Apparently, Jenn does not.  Upon walking up to the doors, Jenn's first comment was, "Are you kidding me?"  She was obviously impressed.  More so when I took her upstairs and showed her the shooting range.  I was talking it up since Jenn is totally voting the wrong way, I figured she'd have a problem shooting even a toy gun.  I told her I took a gun on vacation with me every time we've traveled and she had a little baby calf running around until I said, well, if you're opposed I can go ahead and save only myself if necessary.  After talking to people about the dangers of travel, she decided a gun was fine.   I'm still only saving myself.  

Entrance to Heaven.   Note the alligator door handles.  Pretty cool place. 

Shotgun shark.
Anyway, Jenn is the pool shark of target shooting.  She kicked my butt (and right now, after reading this, her head is so big that I'm sure she's going to have difficulty getting back into the car to move hotels).   And although I beat her score once, she kicked my butt three out of four times.  All I can say in my defense, because YES, it matters, is that I'm the one packing the Glock.  I'm sure if I handed it to her she'd pee.  Or she'd throw it at the person and run. 

I shopped at Bass Pro while Jenn walked around and looked bored.  Now she knows what I feel like at all these historical sites.  I didn't dilly dally as long as I would have had I been alone, and before I knew it, we were back on the road to our night's accommodations. 

We headed to Myrtles Plantation for a night of ghost hunting and scary stories.   Horray!  Another plantation!


Side yard of Myrtles Plantation
Myrtles Plantation is either the most haunted place in Louisiana, the most haunted place in the USA or not haunted at all.  Depends on who or what you believe.  We stayed in the Caretakers Cottage which was a very cute stand alone cottage that sits behind and to the side of the main house.  Story has it on the front porch you can hear the old caretaker walking back and forth at night.  So of course, I let Jenn have the bed near the front porch, door, and window.  I pretty much wanted to ensure Jenn experienced the best possible haunting and frankly, there was a back door I planned on running out screaming if needed. 

Dinner was at the Plantation at the Carriage House Restaurant with turtle soup.  As darkness approached, we started walking around the grounds looking for ghosts and trying not to die of a heart attack.  I took the below photo when it was pitch black outside.  It clearly shows a man hanging from a tree...or a piece of Spanish Moss that was closer to my flash. 


Man hanging from a tree.  Can you see the rope?   Just call me Ghost Hunter.
After our scary walk we went back to the Caretakers Cottage and used the EMF readers to check out whether we would sleep that night.  The EMF reader was on my bed and kept going off as I was watching videos about the Plantation.  That seemed weird.  So finally I broke the cardinal rule of ghost hunting (at least when you aren't being filmed for a TV show) and I started asking the spirits questions.

Me:  "Are there are any spirits near me?"
EMF reader indicated yes.
Me:  "I think that was an error.  Are there any spirits near me?"
EMF reader indicated yes.
Me:  Uncontrollable fear induced chuckling:  
"This thing must be broken.  Are there any spirits near me?"
EMF reader didn't do anything at all.
Me:  "That's more like it, see, we're safe." 

Since I was on a roll, I started asking other questions and Jenn pointed out it wasn't a magic 8 ball.  Whatever.  After getting the answers I wanted, I drifted off to sleep without an issue.  Jenn on the other hand ended up staying up until around 2 am hearing steps on the front porch.  Better her than me.





RT 2016: Day 8: Savannah, GA to Biloxi, MS (yes, I wrote Biloxi) 10/26/16



Today we left the hotel early and headed toward Alabama…our goal was to go through Alabama and arrive in Biloxi, MS in time for some gambling and BBQ.  Not much to see along our route and thankfully, there were no historical things that Jenn just couldn’t pass by.  It helped that Ms.  Jenn was slightly hung over from a night of sipping martini’s that tasted like candy bars.  Note to self:  If it’s too good to be true, it is. 

We made it to Montgomery, AL and stopped at a great place called Southern Comfort BBQ.   Jenn keeps protesting about the amount of meat she’s eating yet she ordered the pulled pork sandwich.  That thing probably had about half a pound of beautiful pork on it.  I ordered the ribs and despite them being a bit overdone (which I’m sure is difficult to avoid when cooking in mass production), the food was worth the trip.  Jenn and I both highly recommend the potatoes and white gravy…yumalicious.  


We decided to push forward and through Alabama and around 5 pm we made it to Mississippi.   Thanks to Jenn’s great planning we stopped for a quick taste at a special bbq place called The Shed BBQ.   I like to point out that I would have stopped anyway if she wouldn’t have planned the trip since they had billboards up 50 miles out with fair warning that the place was at exit 57.  But, one person’s precisely planned trip is another person’s fate.   Now, be warned.   This is not the place you want to bring your future in laws if you are trying to impress upon them your maturity or your excellent taste in BBQ locations.  It is, however, the place to go if you want to explore, satisfy your bbq taste buds, and even listen to great music. It was difficult for me to find the entrance and in fact, a rather embarrassed man opened the door on my head, which clued me in that there was a door.   I’m very smart.   Seriously, this place is a long, winding hot mess.   It is reportedly made of all recycled materials that have been haphazardly placed to design a long, awkward maze of style and grace.  You’ll quickly find that yes, it is a modge podge of various artifacts held together with nails, glue, and probably duct tape.  But what’s inside this monstrosity really matters.  And what’s inside is what you come for.  There is a small area of wooden decking in the “store” area where shirts, hats, rubs, sauces, glasses, and everything else you can imagine lies in wait for the overzealous consumer (that would be me).   Once you order, you walk (carefully as to avoid the bicycle wheels, license plates, shot glasses, boar’s heads and hanging t-shirts) to an inside eating area that consists of painted picnic tables arranged on gravel flooring.  Yes, I said it, gravel.   There are so many pieces of, well, for lack of a better word, crap, in this place that you could literally return day after day for the next ten years and find something new each and every time.  It’s a scavenger hunter’s dream combined with eclectic tastes and some of the very best brisket I’ve had this entire trip.  But the brisket is just the tip of the pig, I mean, cow.  (And brisket isn’t on the tip of the cow either, just sayin).  We ordered some appetizer that resembled a hush puppy that was filled with cream cheese, peppers, corn and some other magical spices.  This was amazeballs.   That was not the name, but it should be.  (The Shed, feel free to use this name and just pay me a small dividend.)     


The Shed.  Literally.  Naw, this is just a portion of The Shed. 

Your eyes do not deceive you.  Chickens and cats in the parking lot. 
See why I didn't know where the door was?  It's a long, dirty maze of goodness. 
Finished the night at Harrah's in Biloxi,  honestly, I wasn't sure if Jenn was ever coming back.  She went down with 100 bucks and three hours later I hadn't seen her.  I started to wonder if she had been kidnapped by rowdy 90 year olds or if she was on a winning streak. 

My winning streak was brief.  It entailed about 20 bucks and 15 minutes at the Walking Dead slot machine.  I won big (that would be $27 bucks) then lost the 27 plus most my original 20 within about five minutes.  In the elevator on the way back to the hotel, alone, cold, tired, and wet (ok, just tired), I held the remaining change in the palm of my hand, showing the man in the elevator my spoils.  He said, “Look on the bright side, you really only lost roughly $19.75.” Then he skipped out of the elevator with a smile on his face.  Yeah, laugh it up, old man, laugh it up.  

RT 2016: Day 7 Savannah, GA (Day 2)

On this glorious vacation day we ate a pretty crappy breakfast at the hotel and then took a bus to the hop on hop off tour start.  After much deliberation, we opted to try this since I am lazy.  I figured a 90 minute tour of the area and then unlimited on and off privileges would be stellar. 

For all you movie buffs, apparently the movie Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil was filmed here.  As was Forrest Gump, Forces of Nature, and Something to Talk About.   Both the tours we took here talked a lot about Midnight in the Garden and apparently, prior to that movie, you could purchase a home for little to nothing.  So thanks movie fans.  Really appreciate it.   I certainly can't afford to move here now. 


The Pirates House.  Looks like a craphole.  But it's not.  Really. 
For lunch we stopped at The Pirates House and had a cheeseburger and a catfish sammy.  The cheeseburger was thick, juicy, and topped with pimento cheese.  Fabulous!  Jenn and I ordered a pirate drink and snagged an awesome pirate mug...you know, so when I'm at work, sitting at my desk, thinking about my future I can look at the mug and smash it against my...wait, I mean, so I can remember how much fun vacation was.   Nice, strong drink.  Cheesy mug.  That's what vacation is about.  That and listening to Jenn as she worries about everything from bug bites to my driving.  And I'm a perfect driver.  Not one accident yet.  Sure, a lot of near misses.  But not one recordable accident.

After food, we got back on the trolley and headed to a church.  I'm not usually allowed in churches (something about spontaneous combustion) but since the trolley driver said they let anyone in, I assumed I'd be safe.  And safe, I was.  I didn't stand too close to the open flames although I did tempt fate enough to take a photo.  This was a Catholic church called 
Cathedral of St. John the Baptist.  This place was so beautiful.  It made me want to convert.  Then I realized there was still time for me to catch fire, so I snapped some more photos of the beautiful windows (yea, I know, probably sacrilegious) and we took off to see a haunted house.  Wouldn't want that goodness from the Church to sink in.


We toured the haunted and historic Sorrel Weed House.  This place has a great story behind it.  Most recently, it was a house above and store below.  The current owner bought it and ripped all that storefront crap out and was beginning to restore the home...when he found some hidden gems.  First he found a draft of Robert E. Lee's surrender letter (which is probably worth more than ALL of my possessions) and a parlor glass and decanter set, that was hidden in the ceiling.  Just goes to show you, make sure you look UP as well as DOWN.   This house has a sad story about a woman who walked in on her cheating husband and then somehow ended up either being thrown or jumping to her death off the balcony.  If that would have been my husband, HE would have gone over the balcony.   The slave girl who was sleeping with the hubby apparently killed herself a few weeks later in the house.  Sad stuff.  Moral of the story:  don't cheat.  Or get caught.  Or kill yourself. 

After 7 hours of touring around the historic area of Savannah, I was more than done.  I dumped Jenn after the haunted tour and took off back to the hotel.   I ended up eating a great meal the The Olde Pink House.  That place had a great drink called the Pink Lady.  It's raspberry Absolute vodka and lemonade.  Afterwards, we met up again and Jenn went to the Olde Pink House and had some fried thing.  Then I went back to the hotel since I'm older and wiser than Jenn.

Jenn.  Poor Poor Jenn.  She wanted to try a place called Jen's and Friends Bar where they apparently make martinis like rice crispy treat, smores, snickers...you get the idea...candy like.   Jenn didn't come crawling into the hotel room until after midnight and when she did, she just repeated herself over and over.  It went something like this:

Me:  "Did you have fun?"
Jen:  "Yes, I had a rice crispy treat martini and I met some guys from Australia and a woman who just bought a house.  Guess how much the house was?  $78,000.  Can you believe it!" 
Me:  "Sounds like fun."
Jen:  "It was so much fun!  I met a woman who just bought a house and guess how much it was?"
Me:  "$78,000?"
Jen:  "$78,000!  Wow!  Can you believe that!"

Yes, I can believe it. 

Oct 28, 2016

RT 2016 day 6: Hilton Head SC to Savannah, GA

Chicken fried steak and grits from Page's Okra Grill
This morning we were rushing to get going.  It felt like I was getting ready for work. Thanks Jenn.  Jerk.   Anyway, we stopped for breakfast at Page's Okra Grill.  Jenn had some chicken fried steak that was about the size of a small dog.  It tasted very good...meanwhile I had eggs, bacon, and grits.  Grits are great.  If you smother them in other stuff.  They are bland otherwise.  Very bland.   Oh well, good news, I didn't eat too much (this time).

We stopped in Beaufort, SC and went to a fort, can't recall the name, probably something inventive like Beaufort Fort, and were attacked by mosquitoes from hell.  Seriously, it was like we were in a remake of Birds (for you young folks that's a scary movie where birds attack).  We didn't spend much time there since it was made abundantly clear that Jenn doesn't like mosquitoes...and she continued to moan and groan about it for HOURS.  In fact, it's hours later and she's still talking about the baseball size mosquito bite on her forehead.  I keep telling her it's hardly noticeable unless you look at her face.   And that's the truth.  Looks like someone slammed her head into a table top.   Very entertaining.  

Best hush puppies thus far:  Salty Dog.
Next stop, Hilton Head, SC.  Why? Because I didn't plan the trip.  It's $6 to get into the area.  WTF.  Greedy bastards.  We paid our cash and continued on to the Salty Dog, because it's famous.  And I wanted a t-shirt and food.  Gumbo and hush puppies.  Both were excellent.  Anyway, on the way there, the remains of Hurricane Matthew were obvious.  It was like we were driving through a logging operation in the hills of Oregon .  Trees on houses, cars, trees on the side of the road in huge piles (that's almost EXACTLY like a logging operation in Oregon!).  It was pretty fantastic to see what Mother Nature can do when she doesn't like our evil ways.  Or maybe it has to do more with low pressure over warm water and water vapor.   Whatever.  Pick the explanation you prefer.
Paid $6 bucks in Hilton Head to see what I can see on any Oregon backroad

Hurricane Matthew's destruction:  Basically on every side road in Hilton Head, SC
Once in Savannah we located our home base and were excited to see it was in the middle of the town...so no driving issues for us.  Jenn had scheduled a hearse tour so we stuck close to the area and ended up eating at a place called Cajun Café.  It's on the waterfront which was about a block from our haunted hotel, The Planters Inn.  The Planters Inn is supposed to be haunted...because it's old.  No great stories from the staff or other visitors.  They do have a wine and cheese happy hour type event at 5ish.  Jenn who keeps bitching, err, I mean complaining, that I'm spelling her name with two "N's (and I keep telling her I'm the writer, if you want it your way, write it) partook on both nights of the wine.  Loads of wine.  So basically she was tipsy before dinner.  What a lush.  Wait, is she reading this?  I mean, she drank one glass of wine then retired to her room.    NOT   (hehehe, she's reading this, I know, I kid!)

DB pushing sauce to customers.
Anyway, Jenn with two N's or one, was sitting at the Cajun Café when she befriended the very drunk bartender named Drunk Bartender, or DB for short.  DB convinced Jenn, who was already a bit snockered, to order a 'pickle back'.  Which I personally think is something the locals only serve to tourists but who knows.  It's a shot of Jameson with a pickle juice backer.  Sounds absolutely horrifying to me.  But Jenn drank it and DB also drank one...and they both proceeded to get even more intoxicated.   I mean, happier.  Jenn ordered alligator bites and I had this not so amazing pulled pork nachos.  Anyhoo, Jenn ended up getting DB's phone number so we could hang out with DB the next day.

Of note, DB is very proud of Cajun Cafe's home made sauce and made sure everyone tried it.  It was very entertaining watching DB interact with the customers...and it made me really want to quit my day job and become a bartender.  I mean, hell,  who doesn't want a job where you can talk all night and drink?  Ok, I admit, I'm a bit old for that.  Maybe. 

Eventually, our hearse ghost tour started and then ended.  I'd like to be able to tell you it was awesome but the 1985 used hearse needed some serious mechanical help.  One of the rear bearings was going out so it sounded like we were being followed by a team of horses.  Clank clank clank.  And the driver, John, though very nice, looked like a homeless dude who hadn't showered in months.  The cool factor is all in the fact that you are riding around in a hearse....that sounds like a horse drawn carriage. 

Hearse tour...bad photo?  Well it was a bad tour, I didn't think it deserved high props. 
Another successful day, if nothing else, because I was not at work.  As the days slip past, and work starts to beckon, I'm sure the idea of becoming a drunk bartender will sound much more appealing...


Oct 24, 2016

RT 2016 Day 5: Another night in Charleston, SC



We're going to hell.   Church is closed.
Late start again.  I don't recall breakfast...but afterwards we went back to Market Street area and went our separate ways.  Jenn wanted to see more houses and I wanted to see ANYTHING but more houses.  So she skipped off on her merry way and I went directly to a church, St. Phillips, to try to sneak in and get saved.  We have seen more churches on our travel than anything else, and these folks must be very religious or very hypocritical.  Needless to say, God saw me coming and the preacher made sure to tell me the church was closed before I got all the way up the steps.  If that's not a sign, I don't know what is.  

Preacher said I could still go into the graveyard, which again, may speak volumes for what God thinks about me, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to be in another old graveyard.  One thing to take note of:  squirrels.  They are the devil's rodents.  They were hiding in trees and bushes and making all kinds of racket at the most scariest of times.  Seriously, at one point I wondered if the walking dead were pushing themselves out of graves.  Almost peed.    Once I figured out it was squirrels, I put on a brave face, wiped my tears and kept going.  That was one of the times I wished God was on my side.  For shizzle. 


I love graveyards.  I like to walk through slowly, reading names...because I firmly believe as long as someone's name is remembered, they are remembered. And truly, that's the most we can all hope to accomplish...to be remembered...even if by strangers. 

I overheard a tour guide talking about good food at the exit to the graveyard...but didn't quite hear where...so I put on my stalker *cough* investigator hat, and followed the foursome that DID hear the directions.  It would have been much easier just to ask, but I like a challenge.  What I did not know was that the wayward travelers had obviously been married for a long time and were used to, shall I say, discussing things.  Loudly.  In an almost argumentative way.  (Yet another reason I'm not married...of course, that and because I haven't found the right drunk guy.)    I had to turn away and walk different directions at times to keep my cover...but eventually I saw them head toward a seafood place on the wharf.  But, as I glanced sideways I noted a BBQ place, so I cut off my surveillance and ended up at the best place I've been so far in the south for  BBQ,  Cumberland Smokehouse.   I slinked to the bar and texted Jenn, telling her I was taking a food break.  She met me there, under protest, and we consumed the most delicious duck fat fries covered in pulled pork and cheese.  Great stuff.  Seriously, I had planned on hanging out there all day but eventually, I got up and went off to find another adventure. 


This was great, I mean grade "A" level "9" brisket. 
So what do you do in Charleston when you have nothing but time on your hands, why stop and talk to strangers, of course.  Along my travels I hung out with a Canadian who was on a bus tour with about 30 other folks.  As you can imagine, he was NOT a youngster.  I saw him sitting all alone by the courthouse steps so I sat next to him and we talked American politics (he says we're all screwed, just for the record), about his wife, his job as an engineer in Norway (before Canada), and about young folks and how disrespectful they are.  You know you've reached adulthood when you can talk to an 80 something stranger and relate to everything they say.   Damn. 

Eventually, Jenn grew tired of old houses (for the day) and we hung out at a restaurant until time for our evening tour.  We toured a haunted jail.  Scary right?   Let me just say we survived, but there was one little tourist who almost didn't.  Initially we were waiting for the tour when this kid, maybe 8-10 (I'm terrible with kid ages) is sitting near us with his mom.  He was playing with his phone and something didn't work and the kid says, "Jesus Christ!"   Ok, maybe it's St. Phillip's fault for being closed and all, but I'm guessing this little brat says that kind of inflammatory shit all the time (get it, inflammatory shit, how inflammatory!).  Later, his Mom told him to stop messing around and then she looks at everyone and says, "Jesus!"  So I'm pretty sure the apple is not far from the tree...and in fact, maybe hasn't fallen at all.  

I didn't let the kid bother me because I have a higher kid tolerance level than Jenn.  If you know Travel Buddy Jenn (which I'm sure you can call her), she gets very...hmm...what's the best word....enraged? at children.  There was a moment when I actually felt sorry for the little punk and I kept an eye on Jenn to make sure a "ghost" didn't push the little jerk down the stairs.   It could have happened.

Great tour, terrific tour guide.  Seriously, this guy was pretty darn good.  But, the best was yet to come.  We rushed back to our home for the night and watched the season premier of Walking Dead.  It was Jenn's first episode ever...and she liked it so much she said something like, "This probably wasn't the best episode for you to have me watch if you want me to ever watch it again."  So, Jenn isn't too into the Walking Dead. But, as I keep telling her, it may save her life one day, you know, when the zombies come.  

Off to Savannah, GA by way of Hilton Head, SC.   

Oct 23, 2016

RT 2016 Day 4: Augusta, GA to Charleston, SC

Somewhere along the path to Charleston.  Not sure if this is hurricane related or just bad luck. 

Made it to Charleston, SC.  Saw a few bits of destruction on our way here which were nature's way of telling us all to watch our backs.  Other than that, it was an uneventful drive.  We did skip breakfast since Augusta seemed a little bland.   Big mistake, going the route we went, there weren't many choices.  Hardys and Subway plus a few bbq stands along the road were the only food sources in sight.  And when I say bbq stands along the road I mean a dude sitting in a lawn chair with a bbq next to him.  No signs, nothing but smoke coming out of the bbq and a fold up table with napkins.  It was too early in the morning for BBQ (yeah, even in my world there's a TOO early for bbq time) so we ended up finally seeing a McDonalds around 11:00 am after I'd already gobbled down a solitary piece of white bread we found in the back seat.  Maybe the morning bbq wasn't such a bad idea, come to think of it. 

Toured Magnolia Plantation outside of Charleston...nice house and beautiful (and famous) gardens. 

In Charleston, we hit the Market Street area and went on a carriage ride.  That was enough history pumped into my veins to last me a lifetime.  Some beautiful homes, a hell of a lot of churches, and a few graveyards welcomed us to the city.  Of interest was rainbow row, which is a row of houses painted bright colors that makes the street look festive.  Joke's on the tourists who buy shirts and key chains showcasing the area, as our guide made sure to tell us the area was basically full of brothels. That story actually made me WANT to buy a rainbow shirt. 

History tour over, we stopped at Charleston Crab House for dinner.  Jenn didn't get her wish of fried food but instead ordered a pasta with fish...that probably was made with two full cubes of butter based on the liquid in the bowl.  I ordered a sample plate with cheesy mashed potatoes, crab, shrimp, grits, and crab cakes (shaped like an actual patty unlike the crab balls from earlier).   It was pretty good, but I'm not a seafood person, so I'm not sure if it was great. 

Some nice shops, lots of stuff no one needs, and a lot of accents to be heard.  We do a ghost tour of a jail next, so we'll see how scary and frightening that is.  I'm guessing anything with the word "tour" in it is probably pretty mellow, but Jenn the ghost hunter is ready to go and find some spirits.  Maybe we'll get our cards read.  I've never done that and would love to know if my future holds a divorce decree.   

RT 2016 Day 2 Part 2: Dinner and Meth, I mean Math



Tonight's accommodations  is bed and breakfast called The Brady Inn.  Not usually my cup of tea since the extent of my historical curiosity ends with what I had for dinner last night.  But Jenn is a real history buff and enjoys making me stop at all these important and interesting places.  Left to my own devices, I'd be at the Best Western right now watching TV and stealing bad coffee while listening to the neighbors grunt and groan.  Then I'd complain about it all day tomorrow for various reasons.  

Anyhoo, this Brady Inn is nice and the ceilings are really high.  I'm just wondering about the attic entrance that's near my bed...and how I ended up under it while Jenn is near the door for a fast escape.  Cute rooms, great grounds to walk around, wonderful wrap around porch with rocking chairs and bug spray provided.  Which perhaps isn't a good sign. 

We headed off to dinner once Jenn drank her glass of free wine.  We stopped at the Madison Chophouse Grille for dinner.  What I didn't know was that would change my life.  Seriously. 


You wanna know why?  Because it was there I discovered A Reason to Live.   Honestly.   I actually discovered two Reasons.  The little babies are mason jars filled with everything you need to have a good time and forget the work week.   Apparently it's the same drink as a Grateful dead made with vodka, but I've never drank that either.  Ingredients include:  vodka, coconut rum, peach schnapps, melon liqueur, sour apple pucker, blue curacao, sweet and sour, orange juice, and pineapple juice. It'll knock your socks off. 

Before my first reason to live, we sat down at the bar to eat.  This place was hopping.  There was a convention in town and the bartender, Mary, asked if we were there for it. 

Mary:  "Ya'll here for the math convention?"
Us:  "For the meth convention?"
Mary:  "Yeah the math convention."
Us:  "Did you say METH convention?"
Mary:  "No math.  MATH"
Us:  "Oh thank heavens!"  

For a second there, I thought we were on hidden camera.  Wasn't sure whether to say yes or no.  We look around and made sure everyone had teeth and weren't picking at sores.   Everyone had a good laugh about it.  After my Reason to live, or maybe during, I'm not sure what order things happened after I started sipping that drink....I started talking to the guy next to me.  He WAS with the math convention.  He worked for Carnegie something or other and was a textbook salesman or something.  Clearly my attention span wasn't that great. 

Math dude:   "I sell textbooks for math teachers."
Me:  "How is that even possible?  Math hasn't changed that much over the years, right?"
Math dude: "Yeah, not many"
Me:  "So you sell math.  I'd guess that's a hard sell."  
Math dude:  "That's why I drink."

Yeah, I wish I had that excuse.  When he left, a 30-something refrigerator repairman sat down.  His name was  Jay.  Between rushing outside to smoke and eating a large steak, Jay and I became fast friends.  Or so I treated him that way when I started asking questions

Me:  "So you have kids?"   
Jay:  "Yeah, one on the way"
Me:  "How long have you been married?"
Jay:  "I'm not."     

About here is when I should have shut up and stopped asking questions, but since I already had a reason to live under my belt, I couldn't stop my mouth from taking over.

Me:  "Interesting."
Jay, "Yeah, we're gonna get married soon as she's divorced but the court wont give her a divorce.  Been trying for three years. Judge must not believe in divorce."
Me:  "Judge know you knocked up someone else's wife?"
Jay:   "Yeah and we live together and the husband lives with someone too."
Me:   "You break up their marriage?"   

And shockingly, instead of Jay telling me to mind my own business, we had a long boring talk about the judge and how he kept putting stipulations on the unhappily married couple.  Good news for Jay, or so he thought, the judge was retiring in a month so Jay was pretty sure he'd be able to marry soon.

Now if that wasn't a bucket full of drama with a side of complications, I don't know what is.  Pretty glad my table only consists of a main course of boring with a side of over the hill.  


Time of call it a night
When Jenn started pniching her face (which is Jenn's way of indicating she's had too many drinks) we decided to call it a night and made our way back to the B&B.  

Travel has a way of reminding you what's important.  It's not the food and the scenery (although those are a bonus) but instead it's the people.  The stories.  The way strangers open up and share things.  The way everyone suffers and survives.  Take Jay.  Below the surface, past the drama and complications (many of their own making) there stands a boy in love with a girl.  And that's adorable.  Just freaking adorable.  And that's a nightmare all by itself.  









Oct 22, 2016

RT 2016 Day 3: From somewhere to Augusta, GA

First, let me tell you the main theme in Augusta seems to be, "Why did you come here?"   Which makes me wonder why did we come here?  It's great not being the planner since I just point to Jenn and ask, "Why DID we come here?"  Sitting in the bar at our home base for tonight, the Partridge Inn, we talked to the bartender, AJ, and made friends with a few other ladies who were drinking profusely.  Most everyone we met is here for a wedding.  There are two going on in this haunted hotel this weekend.  So obviously, when we started talking about the reported ghost on the premises, the wedding entourage was paying attention. 

A long long time ago in this exact location, a young bride to be named Emily was in room 425 dawning her white flowing frock, readying herself for her handsome groom who was on his way via horseback.  This groom, who apparently isn't worthy of a name in the history books (so I'm calling him Garreth), was almost to the Partridge Inn when a helpful stranger mistook Garreth for a rogue Confederate soldier.  And shot him, killing him almost instantly.  Yes, follks, it's a fairy tale gone bad, but I'm sure you knew that otherwise Ms. Emily wouldn't be haunting the hotel. 

Ms. Emily's room
Of course, Jenn, being the ever curious ghost hunter, decides to go find Emily.  We go to the 4th floor and she starts snapping photos at the end of hall so she can later look for orbs.  She and snaps and eventually gets to room 425.   Jenn takes a picture and then POW!  The door opens....and instead of Ms. Emily, out comes the lady sleeping in room 425.  I'm pretty sure Jenn peed a little, but publically, she just turned and walked away.  No Ms. Emily. 

Ms. Emily would later come in my dreams.  I'm sure Jenn thought I was crazy when I woke up and said, "Don't open the door for anyone, not even Ms. Emily".  Doubt me, fine, but I thought a warning was in order. 

I had dreamed Jenn opened the door for Ms. Emily and instead, a large man (coincidentally, the one who told us the ghost story) was standing there with two petite women.  They asked to come in so they could tell us more stories when suddenly they grabbed Jenn, threw her down, and started sucking blood from her thighs and neck.  Of course, I ran out into the hallway and was face to face with another man, AJ the bartender, who pushed me back inside the room and made me watch as Jenn slowly died.  AJ turned me into a vampire (I'm apparently more entertaining than Jenn) and I'm sure I started working at the hotel.  So, the only thing I can think of is the entire hotel actually has vampires working here and at night, they prowl the halls and kill guests.  Pretty sure it would have happened had I not been warned by Ms. Emily.  Yep.  Pretty sure. 


Bon Air low income jail...I mean apartments

Back to reality, after our failed ghost hunt, we risked our lives and went across the street to check out a former famous Bon Air Hotel that was built by the Vanderbuilts.  Once, this was a majestic piece of architecture with white marble entrance, pool in the front, and many, many rooms.  According to our new friends (not the vampires but the hotel guests and AJ who may or may not be a vampire), this is now a section 8 housing complex.  WTF.  Everything worth anything was sold off....but still, we wanted to check it out.  

It went something like this:

We walk up the huge front lawn and see a few shady looking characters standing by the front doors.  I keep walking, slip right past them and walk inside, Jenn trailing a bit.  We get inside look around, and shockingly, no marble, no beautiful anything.  Just tile and tan walls leading toward long non-descript hallways.  There were some people playing a card game off one of the rooms at the entrance...but other than that, it resembled an inner city  shelter.  Jenn says, "I wanna leave" and I look at her as if to say, "We haven't even started exploring". 

If you would have seen the look on Jenn's face, you would have left too.  She looked ready to bolt.  So we left.  As we walk away she tells me she was afraid.  Of what?  The people inside.  Not ghosts.  Real people.  She did a little research and apparently the Bon Air has a reputation for gang wars and shootings.  Who knew.  I'm sure the Vanderbuilts are rolling in their graves.  And this morning Jenn tells me that was EXACTLY the type of place her Mom told her NOT to go. 


This morning's convo:
Jenn  "I feel like we've been eating really healthy, besides the meat, and it's time for the fired portion of our trip."  

Me:  "We've been eating healthy?"

Jenn, "It's time for fried crap.  Fried okra, fried green tomatoes, fried shrimp, chicken fried steak."

I swear, Forrest Gump is my travel buddy. 

Ok, we're off to Charleston for some artery clogging food. 


Oct 20, 2016

2016 RT Day 2: Part 1: Duluth to Senoia TWD

Rick's house in Atlanta...TWD
After a late start we backtracked from Duluth to Atlanta to get a peek at Rick Grimes house.  If you don't know who that is, you should if you have any hopes of 1) being totally cool or 2) surviving a zombie apocalypse.   I know who he is, and now, so does my somewhat hopelessly geeky friend and travel buddy.  Jenn learned so much about the Walking Dead today that I think she's become a fan.  After seeing Rick's house, she was not impressed, but once we got to Senoia and went to the Walking Dead store and saw Alexandria I'm pretty sure she started to come around.  Right?  Ok, maybe not. 

We stopped at a restaurant called Nic and Norman's and ate Greg's Pick Burger on a potato bun.  Seriously, I don't care what you think about Walking Dead, you MUST top by and eat at Greg Nicotero and Norman Reedus' place.   This was one of the best burgers I've had:  ground chuck, short rib, and brisket with blue cheese.   Superb!   We also tried the crab cake (back home we would have called it a crab ball since it is shaped in a ball.  Yeah, ball.)   that is serves with the most fabulous sauce I've had in forever.  The fries were a swirly thick potato that I dipped in the crab cake sauce...it was so good I asked if they bottled the stuff.   I would have bought my weight in that.  If you visit, pay special attention to the details...their logo has a crossbow arrow and pen...and the curtain holdback are crossbow tipped.  All the photos appear to be original Norman Reedus prints.  Kudos to Norman for thinking ahead and utilizing his skills...when he gets killed off on the Walking Dead he'll be in fine shape thanks to fancy footwork and his entrepreneurial spirit.  (Stop it, you know he's going to die eventually on TWD, he isn't even an original character!)

Alexandra...in Senoia, GA. 


My only complaint for the day was the security guard at Alexandria.  He was parked on the street to keep people away from Alexandria's walls...and when I jumped out of the car to take a photo he burst out of his minivan as fast as his 300 pounds would move (real threatening, buddy, I'm gonna need therapy) and says, "If you're gonna take a photo you need to do it from the other side of the street!"  I, being ever the law abiding citizen, calls out to him, "Keep your pants on, Bubba, I got it!"   Ok, I should have said that.  I actually said something more like, "Yes sir!"   At least it sounded like that to me.  He probably heard me whimper and moan about who owns the street with a little profanity.  I'm not telling which one actually happened.   But I AM going to admit it pissed me off because I thought, wait, without people like me watching your little fiction tv show no one would even give a crap about a metal fence that surrounds a make believe town.  Arsehole.  Course he's probably just happy he's sitting in a mini van all day and no longer flipping pancakes at the Waffle House.  Warmer.  

Walking Dead Police:  Rick's not the only one with a badge. 
After taking in as much TWD that Jenn could tolerate, we hopped in our chariot and headed to a few small towns.  Shocked to see so many movies filmed here, we found ourselves quickly in the land of Vampire Diaries, Sleepy Hollow, and Dukes of Hazard in Covington, GA.  Lots of small, quaint shops to drool over, then it was off to Madison for the night. 

Check out my next post for our evening highlights.  Lots of The Walking Dead during the day but suck it up, Buttercup.  I kept telling Jenn it's NOT a zombie flick.  It's about life and what happens when the world goes to shit.  It's about making it despite the people around you who try to push you down and cheat, steal, and try to kill you (that sorta sounds like a day at work).    It's about the human spirit and the will to keep going when all the odds appear against you.  Just ask the lady who owns the antique shop next to Nic and Normans, she'll tell you the same thing.  She'll also spin you a fancy story about Hershel (Scott Green) moving next door to her during filiming.

And it's also about one cool biker dude named Daryl Dixon who has stolen the hearts of many, despite his obvious redneck ways and dirty hands.  How that happened, only Norman Reedus knows.   All I know is, he can ride that motorbike to my house anytime.  I'll even let him use my shower while I take his Triumph Tiger for a ride.  (Dudes, that wasn't dirty, seriously, he rides a Triumph.) 


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