Road Wrap Up
As much as I’d like to say this concludes my final trip here before I get off to my new digs in Afghanistan, I’m going to avoid that and not piss of Karma. When I do that, she seems to take that as a sign that I require fucking with.
What I can say is that there’s a lot to be said for hanging out within fifty miles of the ocean if you like sea food. Two of three dinners here I commmitted to local seafood joints, and that was a total win. On night one, I had to ask for help out of the booth and then struggled to walk with the gutful of fried – hell, everything – they brought me. Deviled crab – who woulda thought.
Interesting fact about my place of duty: It is one of the few Army garrisons in the South not named for a Confederate general, though it is a homonym for one.
Night two was another place featuring all you can eat steamed oysters. Up front here, I’ll add that I did also order a salad, so the meal did in fact vaguely resemble something balanced. That said, I suspect I was beginning to piss off the other diners around me with the loud crash of oyster shells I kept tossing in the pail at a steady clip. You really, really have to love a place that brings you a bucket to toss your finished shit into. So by the second bucket people were staring. Not that I particularly registered anything on my give-a-fuck meter. Now if I can just find a rib place that does that…
Interesting fact about where I am: this county has more trailers registered than actual houses. Based on my forays to the two local seafood shovelling stations, I’d agree.
Sadly, the gastronomic portions of the trip are the most memorable. After well over twenty such trips, they tend to all start seeming the same, and so the main impression I have of this trip was doing a lot of talking about stuff and not much more.
At least airports are more manageable on weekends.