Click here to see Set 1 of our Road Trip 2007 photo gallery.
Saturday, May 12 and Sunday, May 13 2007.
We're just gonna combine Saturday and Sunday into day 1…so you'll just have to deal with it.
First thing’s first, Happy Mothers Day! To answer Jason’s question… That’s an affirmative ghost rider. The trip began with a visit to Kip and Stephanie. After a rousing cup of coffee and some ever so unique company, they continued to Gastonia to pick me (Daniel) up. “HEY! Welcome to CiCi’s!” was the phrase of choice, as a colorful atmosphere surrounded us. More specifically, pink was the color du jour for one young prom going teen, who proclaimed “we’re rednecks, and we like CiCi’s” as her reason for having prom night dinner at the epicurean’s Valhalla that is CiCi’s Pizza.
Onward we went, traffic-less and delay free, until “HOT”-lanta where we found our first detour, and Joel’s long lost cousin, a.k.a. Garrison’s new lover; allow me to set the scene. It was a dark stormy-less night, approximately 12:34 AM on the back streets of South Atlanta, we had stopped for gas at a quaint little station and, according to Garrison, he was molested into forking over some cash and giving this poor guy a hug, but I (Joel) think it was his plan all along. Let me tell you the Locke’s are a very close family – they totally have each other’s back. As Garrison began to talk to my long lost relation, Daniel beat a hasty retreat back towards the car while Garrison was being embraced for his generous nature. Unfortunately this only encouraged this loving individual, who continued to follow him. In order to redirect his attention, Garrison quickly told him Daniel’s name and then tried to hide behind Amy, who promptly locked the car doors. I (Joel) was pumping the gas during the whole exchange and did my best not to laugh as this poor guy tried to make Daniel feel guilty for being afraid of black people. Apparently it worked, as sure enough Big D reached in the car for some cash. Then he turned to me, and told me I looked black; I guess it’s the facial hair. Apparently this also confirmed I wasn’t a racist because he appealed to my sense of kinship for aid – he’s my cousin on my father’s side by the way – unfortunately all I had for him was a lady’s phone number. He eagerly accepted it as he asked me if I wanted “anything” quickly followed by, “you ain’t cops right?” The moral of the story being this guy was smarter than all of us, except maybe Amy who just locked the doors. By the way Meghan, if someone called you and talked about randy things I’m really sorry.
“EH! I can’t feel my toes!” exclaims the lady from the passenger seat as we cross Lake Pontchartrain, and New Orleans rises from the ground in the distance. 743.6 miles into the journey we’ve reached our first destination, Nawlens. Having been there twice before, I (BigD) can’t help but immediately compare my memories of previous trips to the current conditions and sites of beaten and battered Louisiana. While, physically there may be a noticeable amount of damage, the town is still very much alive in spirit.
One of the most important things I (J) was looking forward to was the music, obviously not being there past 3:30 made getting a real taste all but impossible. Luckily there were several street side groups playing. The best by far outside Café Du Monde, two women and the most Cajun man I think I have ever seen, the hat, the overalls, the beard, everything…and then crocks, what the hell? Anyways, they were very good; vocals, guitar, and mouth organ…guess who was playing the mouth organ? The most disappointing group, besides the baby toting drummer chick with hairy armpits, were a group of Mennonites singing amazing grace and that kind of stuff, along with their mediocre melodies were groups of their senior members walking around with CDs handing them to people and saying, “Here, you throw this away.” I guess we should be grateful they are coming up with other ways to spread the word and such, but it definitely dampened my opinion of the music scene, even the big black guy dancing around playing “yazz” flute didn’t help all that much. Perhaps I’m being a touch critical, but we were only there for three hours and I would have preferred to be wowed, so to speak.
Fast Fact: St. Louis’ cathedral is the oldest cathedral in the United States.
“Laissez les bons temps rouler” ~Let the Good Times Roll~
I’m (Garrison) typing this as we begin our trek across the state with which one cannot mess. As far as I can tell, all the stereotypes about Texas are true. From my position in the back seat of the car, I can see no less than eight SUV’s surrounding our fuel-efficient and appropriately sized Honda Accord. I also saw a huge house with a four-car garage and a Hummer in the driveway next to the interstate. How’s that for American? There are also billboards advertising services for “Microsurgical Vasectomy Reversal.” Does the demand for that procedure really warrant a billboard purchase?
We just passed two Budweiser breweries and were reminded of how Miller Lite won the “Best American Lager” category (in some competition…) 5 years in a row. How exactly does one determine which “American Lager” (and we use that term non-existently, since arguably, there is no such style of beer) is the best? That’s like trying to decide which type of horse pee tastes better, Clydesdale or Appaloosa.
