This post is long, long overdue. I blame the Army and the bastards at the several moving ‘companies’ who have mangled my property. I also blame Verizon, because even though I have a thing called ‘FiOS,’ apparently that means ‘no landline telephone that actually works.’ These all sound like excuses, but in reality they’re distractions that suck the life from my humor gland and sap my energy in trying to deal with. For that matter, I blame anyone named Kardashian, because why should they be rich and famous for a sex tape while I’m notionally taking up the poop chute and still sweating the bills every month?
The good news here is, the physical relocation went well. The drive started in Kansas and paused in Illinois for some great food. After that, the drive resumed as my new-formed family navigated half the country, or at least a big chunk of half. Because I was involved, shit had to get bizarre. At least I had witnesses in tow.
The first event of weirdness happened in Indianapolis. You might not know this, but there is exactly one Dunkin Donuts in Indianapolis. Because my SO’s preferences are important, a quick stop seemed in order. Little did I know that every single policeman in the state had gathered for what had to be an important event for them. For criminals, it was probably Free Burn and Pillage Day, but luckily we were merely passing through.
Then of course, there was Ohio. Did you know that a town of about 20,000 that has no fewer than eight major motels and is located in God’s Armpit could be completely sold out? Answer: it can, and they were. Apparently the International Association of Pottery Enthusiasts seized the one town we planned on stopping for the night.
There was this inexplicable but hilarious gem. We stopped at some random service area for food upload and water download. Just as I fired up the Blazer (yes, it’s still running), I noticed this:
I assumed the preponderance of Air Force bases in the area explained this… erection. I thanked my Android for its adequate camera just so I could share it with you.
The next day came and went in a blur. I’ll tell you to never outright trust Google Maps, because we passed through some backwoods Pennsylvania roads that would put a roller coaster or two to shame. If you try it, make it extra-fun by being trapped behind a local driving at just over the speed of farts. We rejoined the regular freeway in Maryland, where I discovered the No Gas For Sale Zone. At least not for sale within a quarter mile of the highway.
The journey concluded in Virginia, and in my new home. The greatest stroke of luck happened to be my new landlord doing some yardwork ahead of my arrival, so the house was open and ready to occupy.
With that, I am now officially back in The South.