Homeward Bound Day 3 (6/15)

Woke up pretty early and took off from Pup's place when he took off to go to work. HA! Some people still have jobs [yeah, I'm all talk. Ask about the conference call I had yesterday on one of the cases I used to work on at my old firm. That's right - I quit 3 weeks ago, and still had to spend 1/2 hour on the phone with some asshole partner from another firm basically accusing me of not doing my job].

I just drove, yo. Stopped for breakfast at a Waffle House. My first WH of the trip, believe it or not. Considering it's one of my favorite places on Earth, that's shocking. This particular WH was in Blue Springs, MO. Had my waffle, Hash Browns scattered & smothered, and coke - my regular WH meal. God it's good. And then, back on the road. Not a whole lot interesting happened.

Decided to stop for lunch in Vandalia, IL. Apparently, it's IL's historic former state capital. Though I didn't discern any capital-like characteristics at the Sonic where I chose to eat. It was my first trip ever to a Sonic. And it showed, when I tried to go inside to order. Apparently, that's not OK. So a nice chick on Roller Skates pointed me in the direction of the walk-up drive-thru like board thingamajiggy, and I placed my order. I know Sonic is best known for their burgers (and their "tots," ebruce, I know), but I thought I'd do the responsible thing and order a grilled chicken sandwich. Responsible and prudent. Because my stomach, I thought, would be much more likely to react negatively to unfamiliar burger than to unfamiliar grilled chicken. I apparently didn't take into account the unfamiliar mayo-based sauce on the grilled chicken factor. After eating, I filled up with gas [pun not initially intended, but now that I see it, holy shit, that's pretty funny!]. While at the pump, I overheard a conversation between two women also refueling, in which the words "taters" and "bedclothes" were both used entirely seriously, without the slightest hint of facetiousness or irony or anything like that. Jesus, people! Chicago is in this state - come on!!

Hey, remember the Sonic sauce?? There is a truck stop in Cloverdale, IN that will never be the same. My long haul rig-driving friends: I apologize profusely.

For literally hundreds of miles along the highway, there are signs for America's # 1 RV Dealer. I guess if I were in the market for an RV, it might make me feel better to purchase it from the # 1 dealer in the country. Except that his name is TOM RAPER! And it's in huge letters like that on every sign. Raper?? "Ma'am, this is one of the finest models around. Just come on here in the back and let me show you the bedroom . . . ."

I was still feeling the effects of the Sonic sauce, and decided to call it quits around Columbus. I did, without shitting my pants, manage to make it to the far suburbs, and stayed at a Red Roof Inn in Reynoldsburg, OH. After destroying the bathroom there, I walked across the parking lot to pick up dinner at a Tim Horton's, which is apparently a Canadian inspired sandwich and donut shop. I had a turkey sandwich and a Toffee-flavored donut, in honor of one of the random girls from Texas who drank beer in our pool cabana in Vegas, who swore that her name was actually Toffe (one e, I believe).

Almost home, folks.