As promised, I've decided to write the next chapter of this blog on the subject of our trip to Memphis. Nominally, it's a nine hour drive down there, cutting across almost the entire state of Missouri before even getting near Tennessee.
However, with a pregnant lady and prone-to-seizure dog in the car, the rules change slightly. Under doctor's orders we had to stop every two hours and Carly had to walk around the car three times minimum. As we left our little home, our spirits were as high as Lily. Sadly, things were about to take a turn for the worst.
We stopped in St. Joseph for some breakfast at the local Perkins and had our first required pit stop. We left Lily in the car with the windows cracked and a cup of water. The dark cloud that followed us into the restaurant foretold of the horrors to come. Our first indication of trouble came when the hostess decided to seat me and my PREGNANT wife near the smoking section. Now, I'm no genius (truthfully, I'm more of a super-genius... Jon West- Super-Genius), but even I know that that is a monumentally bad seating idea. But, I suppose our choices must have been between that or sitting right next to the leaking radioactive missile near the kitchen. And, now that I think about it, if I'm so concerned about my wife's health, why are we eating at Perkins?
In other news, some restaurants still have smoking sections.
Then, Carly orders two eggs cooked over medium and dry toast. At this point, I'd like to say that my culinary knowledge when it comes to eggs is limited to two settings: "scrambled" and "burnt to a crisp". So, it should come as no big shock that I have no idea what "over-medium" means. Thus, when the eggs arrive and Carly takes a look at them at says, "do these look undercooked to you?", my response is to look at them, then her with my most knowledgeable face on and very suavely say, "I dunno, maybe."
This put us at a crossroads. On the one hand, it's a very bad idea to eat undercooked eggs. Especially if you're pregnant. If you do, you might as well just go ahead and inject salmonella right into your belly while singing "What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor" at the top of your lungs (or your choice of favorite sea shanty. Yes, sea shanties work best for that sort of thing. No, I do not have personal experience in this. Oh, the things you can learn on those interwebs).
On the other hand, if we send it back, the odds increase dramatically that it will return to us with extra spit. And who knows what song to sing while eating spit covered eggs?
We opted for the second choice. If the eggs were befouled, there was no trace of it. Luckily, my Mammoth Muffin was awfully tasty.
We head out to the car, the dark cloud following us, and fall upon what can best be described as a massacre. Bits of the victims lay strewn about the crime scene like pieces of broken glass. The grizzly evidence before us told the story of the horrific events that happened. Carly and I were at a loss for words over the gruesome scene.
Lily had found the treats we packed for her. An entire weeks worth of dog treats, snarfed up by one fat little dog. And she's just sitting there like the Queen of the World.
The heavy metaphorical cudgel I've been using to bludgeon you called the dark cloud following us turns into the real thing as we hit the road again. It starts to rain on us and we need to roll the window up. So, we try. And try. And try again. Carly's window won't go up! Stupid car! My theory is that Lily's big fat bottom shorted out the electrical system in her mad dash to engorge herself on ill-gotten gains.
The rain pelted down and as it got worse Carly was getting soaked. And then, during the worst part of the rain, I decided to try the window one more time and.... IT WORKED. For no good reason, the darn thing rolled up, saving Carly from 9 more hours of drenching ickyness. Someone was looking out for us...
I also learned that my mutant power is making the rain stop for short periods of time. Of course, it really only works when we pass under an overpass, but every power has limitations.
Lily was banished to the back seat for most of the trip.
In our next episode: Vegans, burgers, and flip-flops! It's Episode 5!
We stopped in St. Joseph for some breakfast at the local Perkins and had our first required pit stop. We left Lily in the car with the windows cracked and a cup of water. The dark cloud that followed us into the restaurant foretold of the horrors to come. Our first indication of trouble came when the hostess decided to seat me and my PREGNANT wife near the smoking section. Now, I'm no genius (truthfully, I'm more of a super-genius... Jon West- Super-Genius), but even I know that that is a monumentally bad seating idea. But, I suppose our choices must have been between that or sitting right next to the leaking radioactive missile near the kitchen. And, now that I think about it, if I'm so concerned about my wife's health, why are we eating at Perkins?
In other news, some restaurants still have smoking sections.
Then, Carly orders two eggs cooked over medium and dry toast. At this point, I'd like to say that my culinary knowledge when it comes to eggs is limited to two settings: "scrambled" and "burnt to a crisp". So, it should come as no big shock that I have no idea what "over-medium" means. Thus, when the eggs arrive and Carly takes a look at them at says, "do these look undercooked to you?", my response is to look at them, then her with my most knowledgeable face on and very suavely say, "I dunno, maybe."
This put us at a crossroads. On the one hand, it's a very bad idea to eat undercooked eggs. Especially if you're pregnant. If you do, you might as well just go ahead and inject salmonella right into your belly while singing "What Do You Do With A Drunken Sailor" at the top of your lungs (or your choice of favorite sea shanty. Yes, sea shanties work best for that sort of thing. No, I do not have personal experience in this. Oh, the things you can learn on those interwebs).
On the other hand, if we send it back, the odds increase dramatically that it will return to us with extra spit. And who knows what song to sing while eating spit covered eggs?
We opted for the second choice. If the eggs were befouled, there was no trace of it. Luckily, my Mammoth Muffin was awfully tasty.
We head out to the car, the dark cloud following us, and fall upon what can best be described as a massacre. Bits of the victims lay strewn about the crime scene like pieces of broken glass. The grizzly evidence before us told the story of the horrific events that happened. Carly and I were at a loss for words over the gruesome scene.
Lily had found the treats we packed for her. An entire weeks worth of dog treats, snarfed up by one fat little dog. And she's just sitting there like the Queen of the World.
The heavy metaphorical cudgel I've been using to bludgeon you called the dark cloud following us turns into the real thing as we hit the road again. It starts to rain on us and we need to roll the window up. So, we try. And try. And try again. Carly's window won't go up! Stupid car! My theory is that Lily's big fat bottom shorted out the electrical system in her mad dash to engorge herself on ill-gotten gains.
The rain pelted down and as it got worse Carly was getting soaked. And then, during the worst part of the rain, I decided to try the window one more time and.... IT WORKED. For no good reason, the darn thing rolled up, saving Carly from 9 more hours of drenching ickyness. Someone was looking out for us...
I also learned that my mutant power is making the rain stop for short periods of time. Of course, it really only works when we pass under an overpass, but every power has limitations.
Lily was banished to the back seat for most of the trip.
In our next episode: Vegans, burgers, and flip-flops! It's Episode 5!
Good teaser for the next episode and excellent use of sea shanties. All in all I give this episode two thumbs up!
ReplyDeleteYou forgot to mention that it promptly stopped raining when the window went up and we didn't have to drive through any more rain after that.
ReplyDeleteI hope the vegan part is awesome. I just read an article in my Cosmo that says young vegetarians are more likely to be bulimic than meat eaters.
ReplyDelete