Monday, December 20, 2004


We’ve arrived in Dallas after a leisurely drive out from the ATL. “Leisurely” means splitting the trip into two manageable seven-hour chunks instead of doing it in one long, screaming, adrenaline-fueled press. So we left mid-day Sunday, which allowed me to go daven with the Minyan Boyz and for She Who Must Be Obeyed to get the house straightened up. It also allowed us to pack, which we almost always leave for the Last Possible Minute.

We knew it was time to get the hell out of town when it started snowing as we were packing the car. Fortunately, this sketchy weather only persisted until we got halfway though Alabama.

Ah, Alabama. Ya gotta love Alabama. For us, Alabama is more than just the place where we turn the clock back an hour. It’s where we stop to have the first Road Meal. And Road Food is, well...Road Food.

This time, we attempted to enjoy a Road Luncheon at Cracker Barrel. You’re familiar with Cracker Barrel if you’ve driven on almost any interstate highway in the last twenty years. CB is a combination Olde-Tyme Country Store (selling Olde-Tyme Country Crappe) and southern-fried restaurant. And, if you can get past the Kitscho-Gag factor, it's not all that bad. The food is honest and plain, even if you sometimes want to find the guy that wrote the menu and kick him right in his Grandpa McCoy nutsack. Hey, it beats Stuckey’s (“Home of the Pecan frickin’ Logroll”).

And CB gives you Amusing Crap To Do While You Wait For Your Food. That stupid game with the golf tees and the triangular block of wood. You start with fourteen tees, each in its little hole, plus one empty hole. You jump the tees over one another, removing the tees as you jump over them. The objective is to finish with only one tee (“genius!”). Last time we ate at CB, the Mistress of Sarcasm finished her game with only two tees (“pretty damn smart!”). I finished with five - count ’em - five tees left (“fucktard!”). Nice.

But this was lunchtime, and there was no room at the inn. The wait was thirty minutes, and there was No Way In Hell we were going to wait half an hour for a seat at CB.

As the Mistress of Sarcasm put it, “The only reason anyone should ever wait a half-hour to eat at ‘Crapper Barrel’ is if there’s not a speck of food left on the planet. Or if one is in dire need of Fried Iced Tea.”

So off we went to Zaxby’s, home of the Insane XXX Hot Buffalo Chicken Finger Platter. The perfect food for a long car trip.

Provided, of course, you like to ride with the windows open.

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