My job now takes me on the road. When I’m on the road, I make money, good money. When I’m not on the road, well you get the picture. This is the time of the year I’m on the road. A lot. Getting to see different places should at best, always broaden one understanding on the workings of life in general and in the least, allow one to comment on things that we notice that are squirrely about the places we visit and the people we meet. That is my premise and I’m sticking to it, at least for this writing.
I went to some interesting places last year. Interesting being defined as undeniably memorable, for whatever reason. I won’t belabor the common sights, the beautiful oceans, haunting lighthouses or the rolling mountains of my old home state. I would rather make note of the sites as seen from my minds eye, somewhere left of center, and I don’t mean politically. Matter of fact I am basically a left of center, hard line right conservative, but that too is for another time and blog. I would rather like to point out the wonders of places I have experienced, without too much damage.
Ah, how can I forget the lovely Bed and Breakfast in SomewherethehellGeorgia. Originally built in the mid 1800s’ it held rockers, doilies and the many peculiar gewgaws of that era on every shelf, nook and cranny that could be found within the house. However, the thing that made the most impression was how carefully the innkeeper had salvaged all the dust from the 1800’s and kept it so solidly on every, shelf, nook and cranny that could be found within the house. I think Robert E. Lee had drawn a battle plan on my nightstand. Having been in the hospitality business for nigh on 25 years or so, I would have been appalled if I had not fully understood the importance of keeping the museum quality of the home intact. God save us from bad B & Bs’.
The town that the B&B was located in, SomewherethehellGeorgia, had 2 restaurants in which to choose dinner. Remember, I was in the B & Breakfast, using that term breakfast loosely, so only had to fend for the nightly meal. The choice was between the pizza, Real Eye-talian, said the sign and a diner. Opting for the diner, upon arrival discovered the parking lot full and every table packed. It was seniors night and the entire city county population of blue hairs was out having their meat & three plus sweet tea…Dear God, I felt like I was in high school again, surrounded by my teachers (again another blog). It was a church social, Sunday go to meeting, wake, bar mitzvah, all rolled into one. Never have I seen so many pairs of orth0pedic shoes, Capri pants, bib overalls and red suspenders in one place. I was just so thankful I was not the waitress having to work for tips that night, as there was much discussion at every table as to how to split the check 4 ways, who had paid last week, who had the tea and who had water. The patience of Job was worn thin at the register that night.
But that was last year, and work this year is sending us out to bigger and better(?) places. Much to explore and much to compare against “home”. Now living in a tourist area, one comes to expect rudeness, terrible drivers and Yankees. Yes, sometime they are not exclusive. Here in , SomewhereinthesurroundingareaofOrlando, Florida you see it all. I even saw a license plate that said “Golf course capital of the world”. Wonder if anyone should tell Myrtle Beach that? I won’t belabor the many wonders of Mickey world but I would like to comment on the driving. Back at “home” we have our fair share of tourists, snow birds, and Damn Yankees ( yep, the snowbirds that refuse to go home) that drive 15 mph in a 55, make left hand turns from the far right lane and have never heard of a blinker(must be a southern invention). I especially love it when they back up on the On ramps of the freeways cause they realize too late it’s the wrong exit. However, this area has something that we don’t. Crazies. Crazies drive little cars, very low to the ground with little tricycle tires. They go fast. Very very fast. Like 90 when everyone else is going 65. You know they are coming up behind you as they sound like bumble bees on steroids. And they travel in packs, merrily chasing one another like they are participating in a video game ( I may be old but I know about Grand Thief Auto). The least the state of Florida could do is make them paint their cars bright yellow with black stripes on the trunk, so I could at least see the little buggers as they zip between me and the other hundred old farts on the highway. Did I just make myself inclusive with “the other old farts” …well it must be time to end this musing. At least I don’t complain about who pays the tip.