A trip south to Mom's always involves fixing stuff, cleaning stuff, and of course eating, which is my favorite part. My second favorite part is running across things that tickle my funny bone.
Example 1: Stopped at a local gas station, where a couple of women were hanging around talking to the cashier. One of the women said "Hey, you wanna buy my car? It's a Mercedes that looks like a Buick." Tell me, where else in the WORLD would this be a selling point? (And yes, to those who have already asked, I did want to see it, because hey, Buicks rock and I AM from here after all.)
Example 2: Walked into grocery store, looking at the nice wooden signs over each department ("Bakery" "Deli" etc... I was specifically seeking the "Beer" section) and had to laugh. The store has a bona fide "Wieners" section. Someone actually ordered a fancy painted sign just for the hotdogs. And it's a chain store, so most likely there are other wiener sections out there. Judging from the clientele that late at night, "wieners" wasn't far off the mark.
Other things take some readjusting. Fast food here is never fast; in fact one could resort to sucking ketchup packets dry from sheer hunger before the #3 Combo one ordered was even in the prep stages. Or run out of gas/die from carbon monoxide poisoning, if one was foolish enough to think the drive-thru would be quicker.
Cruising is a dying art, but some of the locals keep it alive, mainly by driving their pimped rides side-by-side at 30 miles under the speed limit, effectively blocking everyone behind them, while they hang out the windows and have conversations with each other. Nobody does anything in a hurry here, by choice or not.
"Mullet" is not just a hairstyle, it's a food group. Mullet are fish, often sold at roadside markets next to shrimp and spots and sometimes crabs, all packed in plastic coolers with crude handwritten signs attached. And speaking of roadside stands, the work some people put into their "temporary" (by law) wooden booths would eclipse any trailer manufacturer. I saw one with an upholstered recliner, mini fridge, and air conditioner. The rest of the booth was hacked together from scrap wood so the outside would appear "non-permanent" but by the looks of it, Bubba Jenkins' momma had a pretty sweet setup for selling her peaches and corn. Non-permanent since 1982 is my guess.
Tomorrow we're off to the beach, or what passes for one hereabouts. Most of our beach has succumbed to erosion (Mom insists all our sand has washed to Fripp Island, increasing their marketable real estate) and the beach is only actually useable at low tide. Unfortunately it's also spiked with the jagged remains of palmetto trees and sometimes jellyfish. Nothing like stepping barefoot on a jelly to wake you up. And yet, we all still do the "AAAGH! HOT HOT HOT!!" barefoot run across the scorching sand instead of wearing flipflops like sane people. Sticking sizzling feet in the Atlantic and expecting steam to rise is part of the beach experience for us, like fried chicken and picking up sand dollars with our toes and sunburn and making lewd sand sculptures... oh wait, that last one might just be me.
Next week will be tame... we'll do some work around the house and pack the remainders of a lifetime of my crap into boxes (or a dumpster) and hopefully have time to get in some fishing. Last year was The Great Pink Toilet Adventure and so far nothing has come close to matching it this year. I'm not too optimistic... that one's gonna be hard to beat.
Boiled peanuts rock. That is all.
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