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Bloggy Blog #2

"We don't sell alcohol on Sundays..."

 "We do in Georgia."

The small plastic clip locking the two cooler doors fell to the floor as I walked past this exchange between a kind, informative gas station cashier and some dude wanting a Coors tallboy for his ride Sunday evening. We're just outside Greenville, South Carolina, filling up and hopefully avoiding any talk with the locals. Roughly an hour away from our destination, I'm not drunk enough and wondering just how a three hour driving distance somehow turned into an almost ten hour production.

Our adventure took us right through downtown Atlanta and its seventy-lane highway that wasn't scary as hell at all. Luckily, I was in the back seat - too consumed with imbibing and keeping my eyes peeled on the fabric directly in front of me, instead of that sucker in the passenger side. The rapid braking and glow of red lights became more and more frequent the further we drove to some suburb twenty minutes away. Food. We needed food. 
Here, apparently. 

The bar was loosely packed with ballcap-wearing men and decent-looking ladies snacking on fried foods and sipping Natty Light cans. Jukebox naturally playing country tunes at unnecessary decibels. We have a few drinks, eat our random foodstuffs, and decide to head back onto the road. After stopping for a brief restroom break featuring classy wall art.

Onward! The hotel was classy. Not dangerous, but classy enough for things to happen. And by happen, I mean changing rooms. Twice. Room number one had no workable ventilation system in place. Plugged in, not on. Called the front desk. Blah blah something about no one able to do it until next weeks. I ain't got that much time lady. She offers to move into a second room...temporarily. Okay, cool. This one was a "suite", which apparently means a separate room for the couch, along with two televisions. Oh, and let's not forget top of the line fresh linens. 
After a good night's rest, we have to move to yet another room. This one less suite-like and more meh like. It serves its purpose valiantly. Sort of. A toilet bowl that sounded like a goddamn motorcade upon flushing was the only minor drawback. Oh, and a housecleaning staff that thoroughly enjoys knocking on doors. Regardless if you told them you're checking out in ten minutes. Ten minutes lady ALRIGHT I GOT IT THANKS JUST HOLD YOUR HORSES. 

Alright, so...back to the road. Well, not before we visited some relatives. Relatives who enjoy tinkering with cars. 
Herbie enjoying retirement in Georgia.

Soon we hop back on the road and venture back to home base. But not before a few more stops involving fuel, visiting, and trying to stay away from Atlanta highways. All in all a good trip, but too long on the tail end. But thankfully, it wasn't due to questionable food choices. 



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