Last weekend, the hubs and I went to Memphis for a nice, romantic weekend. Given that all of our time, money and sanity is tied up in travel softball, this weekend was meant to be romantic and relaxing. And by romantic and relaxing, I mean kid-free, eating my weight in fried food and bisKITS… oh… the biskits…., and sleeping in.
Memphis is about a five hour drive and the majority of that is through Arkansas and way Southern Missouri. So for our traveling
pleasure entertainment mind-numbing boredom, we enjoyed unbelievably curvy roads (I tend to get car sick, so I was Dramamined up), lots of farm land, and small – let’s call them interesting – towns.
Given that it’s nearing Halloween, I’m all alert for zombies and werewolves. I mean… you can’t be too careful these days. And given that we were deep in
Redneck hillbilly Ozarks country… there’s always the chance of redneck zombies. Almost an oxymoron there… but you get the idea. Sidenote: Would one be able to tell the difference between a traditional zombie and a redneck zombie? Something to ponder later.
We pulled into a small town to use the rest room. It was our second stop… apparently I forgot to pack my adult-sized bladder. The place we stopped was our only option. I know you are thinking that it must have been simply lovely and quaint. You would be incorrect. First off, the “gas station” (with only four gas pumps, I wasn’t positive it qualified for a “station”) was also the town grocery store. So walking in there were isles of food, toilet paper and oddly a corner section of electronic casino machines. Yea… no I don’t get it either.
Perhaps it was the Dramamine induced stupor or that I really had to tinkle, but I took in the odd sight with amazement as I was dashing toward the wood paneled doors marked restrooms/store room. Yes. The bathrooms were in the storage room. No time to ponder who thought wood paneling would be THE best look for a grocery store/gas station… but whateve! As I’m taking in the instant weirdness, I notice that three deer hunter men-folk were perched at the “casino” corner. More so, I noticed that they were noticing me. I couldn’t decide if they were indeed redneck zombies who were looking to munch on my brain… or if they wanted to take me home to meet their mamas. I choose to believe it was the zombie thing, because I’m sure my brain is irresistible to the redneck zombie. I have no proof to base this on… just a hunch.
I flashed back to the movie Deliverance and wondered where the hubs was. Oh… he found the candy isle. Ok. I caught him, asked him to wait in the store room for me to finish before he left. Not sure if it was for him to protect me or vice versa. Anyway, we exited the grocery store/gas station unharmed. I like to think my evil eye, threatening zombie-watch-out look that protected us, because they let us leave unharmed or unbitten. Whew!
As Willie Nelson as I’ll ever be… we were on the road again. Speaking of Willie Nelson (and I don’t often)… there needs to be a compromise with radio stations between here and there… some channel that isn’t gangsta rap and country/western! Yes… I mean country/western. Barbara Mandrell anyone? Ok then!
Anyway. since we barely made it out of that town alive… overexagerate? Who me? I really tried to NOT have to stop again. So I needed entertainment. Because some road engineer thought the roads should mimic a coiled rattlesnake, I couldn’t read in the car (well, I could, but not without barfing. Barfing might damper the romantic weekend). The radio situation was less than desirable (aka crap!). My ipod was dead. The hubs was on the phone, so I had to entertain myself by looking out the window. Hmmm… cotton field, cotton field, horse, cotton field, old barn, a few trees, cotton field, mobile tattoo parlor, cotton field … wait … what?!
Yes. Some entrepreneur had created a mobile tattoo parlor from an old converted ambulance. I didn’t even know you could buy old ambulances… wait, who would buy old ambulances…. Oh, right… mobile tattoo businessmen! I squealed in delight, the Hubs nearly dropped the phone in fright and I promptly asked if we could stop and get matching tattoos. What would be more romantic? Well, Hepatitis C… that’s what. Ok. Point taken. And here I am, sans-tetanus shot! Dang it!!! But still… I could have my picture taken by it! But no. The hubs is always cautious around rednecks, possible mobile meth labs and fields as far as the eye could see, so we continued on. I pouted a little… maybe a lot. *sigh*
Well, he might damper my fun, but I won’t let him deny you guys. Since I was so shocked that I couldn’t find my camera on the way down, I thought I would try to remember on the way back. Then on the way back I was in a Dramamine fog/sleep/high and missed it… again. So you’ll just have to take my word on it. It was a thing of beauty.
But I won’t be deterred. I couldn’t deny you the amazement…. I decided to draw you a picture of it… using my mad drawin’ skillz, yo!
P.S. Oh. And we had a wonderful time, ate amazing food, saw the Broadway show Memphis! (it was excellent), and overall had an awesome weekend… of course the mobile tattoo parlor was the best…but what could top a mobile tattoo parlor?