11:31 PM |
Today's day is dedicated to my BFF Susie. There are two things she wanted me to go on my trip and today I will do both. Hampton Inn breakfast stays open until 10. That lets me sleep until 9:30. I've figured out that I can take a quick shower and leave all my stuff in the room while I eat breakfast. Helps me get that crucial extra half hour of sleep. I never noticed before, but the hotel do not disturb signs have been replaced with something like getting well deserved/needed sleep so keep it down and don't even think of rapping with your key and shouting Housekeeping! Hampton Inn orange juice tastes like cardboard. They do have "robust" coffee which tastes great except it is about one part coffee to 3 parts water. Had melty danish. We used to have good danish, the kind you got at the bakery after school for your father tomorrow except your mother got a prune one too and ate it in the car on the way home. It was ok because you got a half a pound of cookies that included the pink and green ones, some with half a candied cherry on top (and not maraschino cherries, but maybe the green ones which tasted gross just because they were green). Now danish comes on a plastic tray from the grocery store. The cellophane makes it certain to be kinda gooey instead of flaky. Even croissants aren't flaky anymore. I hold Burger King and the Croissandwich responsible for that.
I am going to Irondale. It is only 45 minutes away because I had to drive so dastardly long last night. There is only one thing in Irondale that I care about. It is the Irondale Cafe. You may know it as The Whistle Stop Cafe, as in Fried Green Tomatoes At The Whistle Stop Cafe written by Fannie Flagg. It was a movie too. They have fried green tomatoes there. Susie loves fried green tomatoes. So do I.
The road into Irondale is very, very small. The police are on your left and the train is straight ahead. If you turn left, the world's smallest historical museum is on your right. You have to turn left most of the time because it goes around the train and you can't get to the Irondale Cafe from this side.
I stopped on the backside of the train platform. As usual, Woody attracted a bit of attention.
This is Steve. He works for AT&T. I told him I need more bars. He has lived here all his life and loves it. Well, not in Irondale, in a town a little ways away. Steve has three kids, 38, 34 and 27, and four grandkids. I was about to congratulate him for getting them all out of the house when he said the 27 year old one and her baby are living with him. This seems like a big trend at least in the part of the country I've visited. This is Mike. He works for AT&T too. He is always working. Mike is much better looking than the always working picture here. When I left Steve and I hugged it out.
Outside the Cafe, a group of soldiers, including a girl, are taking pictures. I thank them for their service, as always. They appreciate the support. I still start to cry every time I say this. They are so young. The next store over is A-1 K-9 Pet Grooming. Beats Cutie Petuties that I saw later. This is a five store front town. Literally.
It is a very good thing I got to the Irondale Cafe early. There were only five people in line ahead of me. It's a sort of cafeteria thing where you take your tray and tell them what you want from the pans (not like taking plates already made up like in museum cafeterias).
The desserts are first. I ask which pie is best. I like lemon dessert so the lemonade pie looks mighty inviting. Of course the lady said they are all good. She either has to say that or they are. I think they are. She shifted her weight and looked square at me. We only make the coconut cake sometimes. We have the pie all the time. Coconut cake it is. And fried chicken. And fried okra (I tried growing it one year and the pods got to be 18"long before I noticed them). And fried green tomatoes. The tomatoes weren't even green. They were very light pink. I guess if they're not red they qualify as green.
The chicken was amazing. The dark meat was white (in a good way), but you almost order it for the crispy part and the actual chicken be damned. The okra was amazing. The fried green tomatoes, well, were okay. Everything was wonderfully salty and greasy. They have paper towels on the table because one napkin would never be enough.
The knives and forks come in little paper packets. The guy at the cashier's desk tossed me another packet for my cake. The cake looked like birthday cakes that you get at the supermarkets, but instead of polyester it has real whipped cream. Too bad I couldn't finish it. The Coke is in 8 oz. glass bottles. There is a sign saying you need to put your Coke on its side on your tray. When you get to the end of the line, they put a real bottle opener on your tray. You sit down at tables with black and white vinyl tablecloths. There are several more rooms, I understand, but I am wearing blinders and pretend that this is the only room and I am in the Whistle Stop Cafe.
This is the owner of the Irondale Cafe. I forget his first name but his last name is Dolan. He is the owner and he is the guy wiping off the tables and he is the one taking money and he is the one who tossed me the extra silverware.There are a lot of appreciative plaques from the Knights of Columbus on the wall. You can only see part of him because he is moving so darn fast. I see you are busy. He says We're gratetful we all have jobs to go to. Grateful. You don't here that much anymore. I bought a fried green tomatoes cap for Susie.
While I was eating, I notice a woman struggling with two small children in a wagon. I asked Honey, can I watch them for you. I have been in the south for weeks so I am calling people honey when I want to be nice. She's okay. Then again, she's not. I have responsibility for the most beautiful little girls. It's a good thing because such sweet kids would be scooped away if nobody paid attention. I couldn't catch the name of the bigger one, but the baby is Maggie. I love that. I love it even though baby Maggie is on the Simpsons. The larger girl (although she is still quite small) has a pretty big brown bow in her hair and it coordinates with some of the flowers on her shirt as do her aqua shoes. No father is dressing these kids. After we talk for awhile, she runs her tiny fingers over my hand. It is so precious. There truly is nothing like the touch of a small child. I clapped with Maggie. I asked the bigger one if they come here a lot. They come to the track. She's not my mother, she's my grandmother. She is getting me okra and macaroni. This child has good taste already. Grandma came back and I helped her get the wagon outside.
When I finished my lunch, I saw the girls and their grandmother on a picnic table under the pavillion next to the railroad tracks. I really wanted to take a picture. The grandmother's name is Nan. Maggie is Margaret Nan. I am guessing that Nan is not short for Nancy. It is just Nan. Other other girl is Lila Rae. What a delectable southern name that is. The only Lila I have ever heard of is that pretty girl on Friday Night Lights whose dad is the car dealer who gives a lot of money to the Dillon Panthers and is a big fan. If I have a daughter I will name her Lila Rae. Oops, no uterus. So my imaginary boyfriend and I are having an imaginary baby named Lila Rae. Happy birthday, Lila Rae!
Nan is a very bright, articulate woman. She has a cap that says something like Art In Motion. It was from a fundraiser they did for the place that autistic adults go to make art. They raised $50,000 last year. Some of the paintings went for $10,000. She pointed out the white house where Fannie Flagg grew up. Her aunt owned the Irondale Cafe. Nan used to live in Ironwood, but now lives down on the lake. She told me that several times and I am guessing that living down on the lake is better than living in Irondale. She watches the girls two days a week. The girls live over the single track. We are on the double track. The roundhouse is just down the track a bit. That's why trains are constantly going back and forth here. Nan doesn't know if there are any railroad jobs here. She brings Maggie and Lila Rae over the single track and has lunch until the trains leave the double track and they can go back over. The girls know to cover their ears when the trains come by. Nan takes photos sometimes and got her first digital SLR at the unclaimed baggage place. They have a lot of cameras. Jewelry too. I tell Nan I am heading there next. For Susie.
Off I go. I need a drink because 8 oz of Coke doesn't do it with an all fried foods lunch. And Woody needs a bath. Stop for gas. See Cheerwine. See Double Cola. Buy them. On my way out, see case of Grapico. I need to taste these. Chattanooga is the birthplace of Double Cola and Krystal and Little Debbie. I found this out when I was stuck back at Monteagle an eon ago. Cheerwine tastes like Dr. Pepper or Mr. Pibb. I bet it's the original. I love Dr. Pepper. When you hit the south, the vending machines even have Diet Dr. Pepper. Life is good. Don't leave the website open, though, because the bubbles will drive you nuts. Alternatively, you will observe your breath and go to the spa with the whale noises on the CD. Cheerwine is from the Carolinas so it wasn't founded in Chattanooga. Wikipedia says they make ice cream and sherbet in Cheerwine flavors. And get this. There was limited edition Cheerwine Krispy Kreme. Be still my heart. Double Cola is well cola. Grapico is caffeine-free. I sometimes need that. It is owned by another southern company founded in 1917 (see, I'm getting really good at looking things out). There is also Orangico. I still have the Cheerwine site open and it really is kind of soothing. It has what sounds like ocean waves and seagulls and these guys are saying random things in a nice low tone. Maybe I'll always keep it open. Well, at least while my sister's on the phone. I cannot find a self-do-it carwash no matter how many times I ask.
I am going to Irondale. It is only 45 minutes away because I had to drive so dastardly long last night. There is only one thing in Irondale that I care about. It is the Irondale Cafe. You may know it as The Whistle Stop Cafe, as in Fried Green Tomatoes At The Whistle Stop Cafe written by Fannie Flagg. It was a movie too. They have fried green tomatoes there. Susie loves fried green tomatoes. So do I.
The road into Irondale is very, very small. The police are on your left and the train is straight ahead. If you turn left, the world's smallest historical museum is on your right. You have to turn left most of the time because it goes around the train and you can't get to the Irondale Cafe from this side.I stopped on the backside of the train platform. As usual, Woody attracted a bit of attention.
This is Steve. He works for AT&T. I told him I need more bars. He has lived here all his life and loves it. Well, not in Irondale, in a town a little ways away. Steve has three kids, 38, 34 and 27, and four grandkids. I was about to congratulate him for getting them all out of the house when he said the 27 year old one and her baby are living with him. This seems like a big trend at least in the part of the country I've visited. This is Mike. He works for AT&T too. He is always working. Mike is much better looking than the always working picture here. When I left Steve and I hugged it out.
Outside the Cafe, a group of soldiers, including a girl, are taking pictures. I thank them for their service, as always. They appreciate the support. I still start to cry every time I say this. They are so young. The next store over is A-1 K-9 Pet Grooming. Beats Cutie Petuties that I saw later. This is a five store front town. Literally.It is a very good thing I got to the Irondale Cafe early. There were only five people in line ahead of me. It's a sort of cafeteria thing where you take your tray and tell them what you want from the pans (not like taking plates already made up like in museum cafeterias).
The desserts are first. I ask which pie is best. I like lemon dessert so the lemonade pie looks mighty inviting. Of course the lady said they are all good. She either has to say that or they are. I think they are. She shifted her weight and looked square at me. We only make the coconut cake sometimes. We have the pie all the time. Coconut cake it is. And fried chicken. And fried okra (I tried growing it one year and the pods got to be 18"long before I noticed them). And fried green tomatoes. The tomatoes weren't even green. They were very light pink. I guess if they're not red they qualify as green.
The chicken was amazing. The dark meat was white (in a good way), but you almost order it for the crispy part and the actual chicken be damned. The okra was amazing. The fried green tomatoes, well, were okay. Everything was wonderfully salty and greasy. They have paper towels on the table because one napkin would never be enough.
The knives and forks come in little paper packets. The guy at the cashier's desk tossed me another packet for my cake. The cake looked like birthday cakes that you get at the supermarkets, but instead of polyester it has real whipped cream. Too bad I couldn't finish it. The Coke is in 8 oz. glass bottles. There is a sign saying you need to put your Coke on its side on your tray. When you get to the end of the line, they put a real bottle opener on your tray. You sit down at tables with black and white vinyl tablecloths. There are several more rooms, I understand, but I am wearing blinders and pretend that this is the only room and I am in the Whistle Stop Cafe.
This is the owner of the Irondale Cafe. I forget his first name but his last name is Dolan. He is the owner and he is the guy wiping off the tables and he is the one taking money and he is the one who tossed me the extra silverware.There are a lot of appreciative plaques from the Knights of Columbus on the wall. You can only see part of him because he is moving so darn fast. I see you are busy. He says We're gratetful we all have jobs to go to. Grateful. You don't here that much anymore. I bought a fried green tomatoes cap for Susie.While I was eating, I notice a woman struggling with two small children in a wagon. I asked Honey, can I watch them for you. I have been in the south for weeks so I am calling people honey when I want to be nice. She's okay. Then again, she's not. I have responsibility for the most beautiful little girls. It's a good thing because such sweet kids would be scooped away if nobody paid attention. I couldn't catch the name of the bigger one, but the baby is Maggie. I love that. I love it even though baby Maggie is on the Simpsons. The larger girl (although she is still quite small) has a pretty big brown bow in her hair and it coordinates with some of the flowers on her shirt as do her aqua shoes. No father is dressing these kids. After we talk for awhile, she runs her tiny fingers over my hand. It is so precious. There truly is nothing like the touch of a small child. I clapped with Maggie. I asked the bigger one if they come here a lot. They come to the track. She's not my mother, she's my grandmother. She is getting me okra and macaroni. This child has good taste already. Grandma came back and I helped her get the wagon outside.
When I finished my lunch, I saw the girls and their grandmother on a picnic table under the pavillion next to the railroad tracks. I really wanted to take a picture. The grandmother's name is Nan. Maggie is Margaret Nan. I am guessing that Nan is not short for Nancy. It is just Nan. Other other girl is Lila Rae. What a delectable southern name that is. The only Lila I have ever heard of is that pretty girl on Friday Night Lights whose dad is the car dealer who gives a lot of money to the Dillon Panthers and is a big fan. If I have a daughter I will name her Lila Rae. Oops, no uterus. So my imaginary boyfriend and I are having an imaginary baby named Lila Rae. Happy birthday, Lila Rae!Nan is a very bright, articulate woman. She has a cap that says something like Art In Motion. It was from a fundraiser they did for the place that autistic adults go to make art. They raised $50,000 last year. Some of the paintings went for $10,000. She pointed out the white house where Fannie Flagg grew up. Her aunt owned the Irondale Cafe. Nan used to live in Ironwood, but now lives down on the lake. She told me that several times and I am guessing that living down on the lake is better than living in Irondale. She watches the girls two days a week. The girls live over the single track. We are on the double track. The roundhouse is just down the track a bit. That's why trains are constantly going back and forth here. Nan doesn't know if there are any railroad jobs here. She brings Maggie and Lila Rae over the single track and has lunch until the trains leave the double track and they can go back over. The girls know to cover their ears when the trains come by. Nan takes photos sometimes and got her first digital SLR at the unclaimed baggage place. They have a lot of cameras. Jewelry too. I tell Nan I am heading there next. For Susie.
Off I go. I need a drink because 8 oz of Coke doesn't do it with an all fried foods lunch. And Woody needs a bath. Stop for gas. See Cheerwine. See Double Cola. Buy them. On my way out, see case of Grapico. I need to taste these. Chattanooga is the birthplace of Double Cola and Krystal and Little Debbie. I found this out when I was stuck back at Monteagle an eon ago. Cheerwine tastes like Dr. Pepper or Mr. Pibb. I bet it's the original. I love Dr. Pepper. When you hit the south, the vending machines even have Diet Dr. Pepper. Life is good. Don't leave the website open, though, because the bubbles will drive you nuts. Alternatively, you will observe your breath and go to the spa with the whale noises on the CD. Cheerwine is from the Carolinas so it wasn't founded in Chattanooga. Wikipedia says they make ice cream and sherbet in Cheerwine flavors. And get this. There was limited edition Cheerwine Krispy Kreme. Be still my heart. Double Cola is well cola. Grapico is caffeine-free. I sometimes need that. It is owned by another southern company founded in 1917 (see, I'm getting really good at looking things out). There is also Orangico. I still have the Cheerwine site open and it really is kind of soothing. It has what sounds like ocean waves and seagulls and these guys are saying random things in a nice low tone. Maybe I'll always keep it open. Well, at least while my sister's on the phone. I cannot find a self-do-it carwash no matter how many times I ask.I am a bit weary of driving and my GPS power is unreliable. I look at the number of miles until my next turn and subtract them to the current mile marker so that I can find the right exit even with the GPS off and me not paying attention. Damn. Woody is stuttering again. I hope it's just the ethanol. Some of these stations cheat and put more than 10% ethanol in. Pull off at next exit. Woody was just speaking to me. Empty road. Car wash. The first bay ate my money. I put it in and it spit the quarters back but kept four in the slot jammed together. Moved to next bay. A-OK. They have a high pressure rinse. I swear if you're holding the wand and you squeeze the handle you're blown back three feet. And it keeps on pushing you for the six minutes and 30 seconds you have left. At least Woody is sufficiently salt- and pollen-free.
Every now and again I flip the GPS on for a couple of seconds to check if I'm on the right track. I have missed my exit by only 3.3 miles! This is very good for me. I deserve a small trophy like the ones your kid gets for showing up to youth soccer for the whole season. The directions to the unclaimed baggage place say to turn left at the fourth traffic light. My GPS says 24 miles. This has never stopped me before and as you may remember I once missed my exit by150 miles.
STOP RIGHT NOW. DO NOT OPEN CHEERWINE SITE. The soothing wave noises keep on going, even after you close your browser. I don't know how they do that but bad, Cheerwine, bad.
Well, I'll be damned. The road goes through 24 miles of Taco Bells and Loews and Shell stations and Team Wear stores and has only 4 traffic lights. Toward the end of my journey, I passed over the most beautiful lake. I bet this road is marked with the green dots denoting scenic on the map. And here it is. Unclaimed Baggage. Several bikers greet me. It seems odd to see bikers at a thrift store (which is what this is, essentially). They have Starbucks. They have cameras. They have laptops. They have sleeping bags. They have clothes, hats, shoes and accessories for women, men and children. And jewelry. I bought a nice ring for my son's 18th. I don't care for rings on men, but he likes them and he is a big boy now. And then, Bingo! There is a Vacheron and Constantin watch with a woven white gold bracelet. It is so thin you could cut butter with it. This is a $20,000 watch. They are selling it for $7,900. If I hadn't gone on this trip, I would have $7,900. I am madly thinking of ways to get my hands on $7,900. I have to breathe. I have to get all this stuff out of my head. So I looked at shoes. I found five pairs of Stephen Bonanno sandals, the ones Jack Rogers ripped off. Jackie O made navajo sandals famous and the lousy jolly rogers made off with the design. Those pirates. Anyhow, these sandals are about $100 bucks a pair. I have the Emma monogram in tan and pink. They were $160. I found five pairs IN MY SIZE, brand new, for $19 apiece. Score!
And I found a pair of brand new topsiders for my son. I agonized about the Manolo Blanik sandals that say they are my size but don't really fit. They are $119 here and $650 at Neiman Marcus. I finally pass. The sales ladies tell me that the concierge (yes, Unclaimed Baggage has a concierge) can help me find a place to stay because they start adding new things at 6 a.m. The jewelry goes fast. Damn, where can I get $7,900? I leave at sunset.
Head out to find the next Holiday Inn Express. Hello, baby! This is Jeremiah. His mother, Barbara, is the head of student life at Sewanee. How about that? Jeremiah is a good recommendation giver. He sent me to the Mt. Vernon Restaurant. Sweeny's BBQ closes at 8. It's before 8. Nope, back on eastern time. Jeremiah said he told Sweeny's to keep open until 9 because of this problem. Jeremiah took out a little map and a coupon for me. He said to go under the railroad pass and then under another one and it's on my left. He drew the route and put a star where the restaurant is. I drove. And drove. And was reassured when I found the underpass. But then the road goes in two directions, both of them straight up. Woody does not like straight up, particularly in the dark. But we did it anyway. It was twisty and turny and had no shoulder just like back in the Appa-latch-ans (thank you Jim, curator). I was feeling another chainsaw store coming on. But heck it's Tennessee not West Virginia. Went straight down. Remarkably enough, there was the Mt. Vernon Restaurant. It has great southern food. Not country food, but great southern food.
Jazmyn (she apologized for her mother's "creativity", but I told her about Tiffeny and Tiffiany) is the hostess. She loves me. She loves the road trip. And when she finds out about him, she loves Woody too. Brandon was my server. You know, in all the time that I've been traveling, I only at ate one fast food joint, but that didn't count because it was in the middle of the six inches of freezing sleet/snow marathon drive. None of my servers told me their names. They are waiters and waitresses. Note to self: Don't go to restaurants with servers. Run if they tell you their names. Brandon and Jazmyn told me they'd entertain me. They did.
Since I had my coupon, I could have fried green tomatoes for free. I just couldn't. I am oozing Crisco. Brandon coaxed me into the home-made onion rings. But wait. My coupon has a little map with the location of the restaurant. We are at Lookout Mountain! I had no idea. I want to go to Lookout Mountain. This is a very good omen. I bet this place is in Roadfood. I'll have to check. I threatened Brandon not to pour me any more sweet tea or I'll be up all night.
I had a fried chicken breast with cream gravy. It's what we call chicken-fried chicken. That's because we have chicken-fried steak. (I'm using the southern royal we now). Chicken-fried steak is steak that is breaded like you would fried chicken and tossed into the skillet the same way as chicken. It is served with cream gravy (bechamel sauce for you northerners) with a lot of black pepper. Now when you have fried chicken with cream gravy you have chicken-fried chicken. Makes sense to me. Anyhow, I also had green beans and cheese grits. It was all terrific. The owner called Jazmyn to see if they had any late guests. That would be me. Make sure you treat them well (!!!). They closed the restaurant once for two weeks and Jazmyn wanted to go on a road trip but when she figured it all out she didn't have the money. Jazmyn told her boss that I am her favorite person of the day. I could here this because it was just Jaz, Brandon and myself occupying the place. The Mt. Vernon Restaurant has been in business for 50 years. I can see why.
STOP RIGHT NOW. DO NOT OPEN CHEERWINE SITE. The soothing wave noises keep on going, even after you close your browser. I don't know how they do that but bad, Cheerwine, bad.
Well, I'll be damned. The road goes through 24 miles of Taco Bells and Loews and Shell stations and Team Wear stores and has only 4 traffic lights. Toward the end of my journey, I passed over the most beautiful lake. I bet this road is marked with the green dots denoting scenic on the map. And here it is. Unclaimed Baggage. Several bikers greet me. It seems odd to see bikers at a thrift store (which is what this is, essentially). They have Starbucks. They have cameras. They have laptops. They have sleeping bags. They have clothes, hats, shoes and accessories for women, men and children. And jewelry. I bought a nice ring for my son's 18th. I don't care for rings on men, but he likes them and he is a big boy now. And then, Bingo! There is a Vacheron and Constantin watch with a woven white gold bracelet. It is so thin you could cut butter with it. This is a $20,000 watch. They are selling it for $7,900. If I hadn't gone on this trip, I would have $7,900. I am madly thinking of ways to get my hands on $7,900. I have to breathe. I have to get all this stuff out of my head. So I looked at shoes. I found five pairs of Stephen Bonanno sandals, the ones Jack Rogers ripped off. Jackie O made navajo sandals famous and the lousy jolly rogers made off with the design. Those pirates. Anyhow, these sandals are about $100 bucks a pair. I have the Emma monogram in tan and pink. They were $160. I found five pairs IN MY SIZE, brand new, for $19 apiece. Score!
And I found a pair of brand new topsiders for my son. I agonized about the Manolo Blanik sandals that say they are my size but don't really fit. They are $119 here and $650 at Neiman Marcus. I finally pass. The sales ladies tell me that the concierge (yes, Unclaimed Baggage has a concierge) can help me find a place to stay because they start adding new things at 6 a.m. The jewelry goes fast. Damn, where can I get $7,900? I leave at sunset.
Head out to find the next Holiday Inn Express. Hello, baby! This is Jeremiah. His mother, Barbara, is the head of student life at Sewanee. How about that? Jeremiah is a good recommendation giver. He sent me to the Mt. Vernon Restaurant. Sweeny's BBQ closes at 8. It's before 8. Nope, back on eastern time. Jeremiah said he told Sweeny's to keep open until 9 because of this problem. Jeremiah took out a little map and a coupon for me. He said to go under the railroad pass and then under another one and it's on my left. He drew the route and put a star where the restaurant is. I drove. And drove. And was reassured when I found the underpass. But then the road goes in two directions, both of them straight up. Woody does not like straight up, particularly in the dark. But we did it anyway. It was twisty and turny and had no shoulder just like back in the Appa-latch-ans (thank you Jim, curator). I was feeling another chainsaw store coming on. But heck it's Tennessee not West Virginia. Went straight down. Remarkably enough, there was the Mt. Vernon Restaurant. It has great southern food. Not country food, but great southern food.
Jazmyn (she apologized for her mother's "creativity", but I told her about Tiffeny and Tiffiany) is the hostess. She loves me. She loves the road trip. And when she finds out about him, she loves Woody too. Brandon was my server. You know, in all the time that I've been traveling, I only at ate one fast food joint, but that didn't count because it was in the middle of the six inches of freezing sleet/snow marathon drive. None of my servers told me their names. They are waiters and waitresses. Note to self: Don't go to restaurants with servers. Run if they tell you their names. Brandon and Jazmyn told me they'd entertain me. They did.
Since I had my coupon, I could have fried green tomatoes for free. I just couldn't. I am oozing Crisco. Brandon coaxed me into the home-made onion rings. But wait. My coupon has a little map with the location of the restaurant. We are at Lookout Mountain! I had no idea. I want to go to Lookout Mountain. This is a very good omen. I bet this place is in Roadfood. I'll have to check. I threatened Brandon not to pour me any more sweet tea or I'll be up all night.
I had a fried chicken breast with cream gravy. It's what we call chicken-fried chicken. That's because we have chicken-fried steak. (I'm using the southern royal we now). Chicken-fried steak is steak that is breaded like you would fried chicken and tossed into the skillet the same way as chicken. It is served with cream gravy (bechamel sauce for you northerners) with a lot of black pepper. Now when you have fried chicken with cream gravy you have chicken-fried chicken. Makes sense to me. Anyhow, I also had green beans and cheese grits. It was all terrific. The owner called Jazmyn to see if they had any late guests. That would be me. Make sure you treat them well (!!!). They closed the restaurant once for two weeks and Jazmyn wanted to go on a road trip but when she figured it all out she didn't have the money. Jazmyn told her boss that I am her favorite person of the day. I could here this because it was just Jaz, Brandon and myself occupying the place. The Mt. Vernon Restaurant has been in business for 50 years. I can see why.I needed another way back to the Holiday Inn Express. I will not go on those straight up and straight down twisty roads in the dark again. Jaz and Brandon gave me good directions to get back on I-whatever and back to the hotel. I went. Turns out that Mt. Vernon is three whole exits after the Holiday Inn Express. Never would have known. Holiday Inn Express is as good as usual. Unplugged the refrigerator as usual. This one has a recliner. I've never seen a recliner in a hotel room before. You can pop a Bud and watch NASCAR here. Smart Coffee and plastic cups to use for Cheerwine or brushing your teeth, as well as the styrofoam cups I hate. Internet is blindingly fast. I am content.
Susie, ya done good.
Hah, Mr. Blogger! You tried to eat my post, but as soon as you got flaky, I quickly cut and pasted it to Word then pasted it back after you got over your bad mood. I win.