Gulf Trip Summary

I made it back to Wilmington in just enough time to eat dinner, watch a terrible movie, and go to work. God Bless America.

I hope you have enjoyed my travels, and I will continue to post here, but my next big trip won’t be until Feb. 13th when I head to Music City. Just as a teaser, I WILL be purchasing a pair of custom made boots. Call me White Earp. (My partner in crime is Jew Wayne, but that’s for another blog post).

First, I want it to be known that songs are not meant to be lived, but rather written and then enjoyed. I won’t elaborate, but not everything people write is true and/or shouldn’t be replicated. I’ll leave it at that.

Secondly, I had a blast on this trip. I found adventure on the high seas…I mean roads, and had fun in the ports along the way, while causing minimal trouble. (So far I’m not wanted anywhere, which is good in the grand scheme of things).

Thirdly…OK I’m not sure that’s a word. I know tertiary is. So…tertiarily? I shouldn’t have gone there. Anyway, I must say that no matter where you go, every small town is the same. At a gas station you’ll see the same faces, just different names and different expressions, but they are all the same. All I’ve found is that the more of the world you find, the smaller it gets, and really, you aren’t anything special. As Ben Folds says, “There’s always someone cooler than you.” So stay humble, mostly because I’m cooler than you. See how that works?

To complete the Smokey and the Bandit theme of this trip, I stopped into a choke and puke somewhere on a two-lane in South Cackilacka. After I almost did both, I decided is was time to lay the hammer down, and put the metal to the thingy.

Lastly, I must comment about the horrible movie I watched this evening. It was called the Takers, and was a horrible one-off of the classic movie Heat. In this incredibly horrible and uninteresting movie, the plot was similar to Heat, but boring enough to where I was checking Facebook on my phone and went, “Oh, I was watching a movie. I forgot.” In contrast to Heat, the all-star line-up of Pacino, DeNiro, and Kilmer was replaced with Paul Walker, T.I., and Matt Dillon. Must I say more? If you’re thinking about Red Boxing it, save the dollar. You can buy a double cheeseburger with it, and they will probably both take the same amount of time off your life.

2 Days, Deep Thoughts, and a Shrimp or Two

Wednesday. Went early to visit the Captain’s hotel. A beautiful property on the bay, multiple swimming pools, pretty close to paradise. For the rest of the afternoon I loafed around the pier, visited the Margaritaville there, and made a roast beef sandwich. It was a good day.

As far as Margaritavilles go, I have now been to the ones in: Key West, Charleston, Myrtle Beach, and Panama City. I plan on visiting them all, just a warning.

The late afternoon was spent using Comcast’s On-Demand and watching the entire 6th season of Weeds. Great show, hilarious, and not a bad way to pass the time until dinner. Speaking of which, dinner was tasty.

So far this trip, I had some bar food at Moon River Brewery in Savannah, and many gas station meals consisting of chips and a drink. Like Subway, just without the sandwich. Monday night I had the largest chicken sandwich perhaps ever made. The thing covered and entire bun, and could have literally been cut in half, and placed on an entirely separate bun. It was intimidating to say the least, but I love chicken. I elaborated on Tuesday night’s meal, so now to Wednesday. We ate at Montego Bay and I had a delectable gulf coast shrimp basket. Aside from chicken, I also love shrimp. It’s highly underrated and unfortunately often overpriced, but fantastic nonetheless. If you’ve been around me enough, you might have tasted my variations of: Beer battered, bacon wrapped, crabbed stuffed, scampi, alfredo, or plain ol’ boiled shrimp. At the risk of sounding like Bubba from Forrest Gump, I’ll stop there, but you get the point.

Thursday. It was time to depart Panama City Beach and head back to Savannah. The 6 hour ride wasn’t exactly enjoyable, and I had a lot on my mind, but thanks to Sirius radio, I survived. Georgia does, however, need to pick a speed limit and stick with it. Today, on the same road, I went from 25 MPH to 65 MPH, and every conceivable combination in between. Can’t we pick a happy medium? Why do we even have school zones anymore anyway? When was the last time you drove by a school and saw a kid? They are too busy playing video games inside to be anywhere near your barreling vehicle. Besides, I think if you hit a kid at 25 MPH or 65 MPH, the poor guy isn’t going to stand a chance. Isn’t 25 MPH also perfect cruising speed for child abductors? Let’s petition to raise school zone speed limits to at least 55 MPH. That way predators will have to yell, “Do you want some candy?” as they speed by. It’s for the kids, after all.

Well, enough of that absurdity. I’m safely in Savannah and dinner is calling my name.

I’ll leave you with another Buffett line that spoke to me in the car today. I passed a sign that said ‘Meridian Road’ and I think it was a literal and figurative sign.

“It’s time to see the world
It’s time to kiss a girl
It’s time to cross the wild meridian
Grab your bag and take a chance
Time to learn a Cajun dance
Kid you’re gonna see the morning sun
On the Pascagoula run”-JB

Gulf Day #2

It was a rainy morning, so I lounged on the couch and watched 2 Fast, 2 Furious. Such a fantastic movie. Paul Walker should have won an Oscar for that performance.

The Cap’n got off work just after lunch, so we headed up, (I guess over), to Destin. There’s an outlet mall there, and I did some roaming around. Found a nice shirt at Brooks Brothers, and found that Ralph Lauren’s new style is for the more flamboyant of men. That however, is a whole other story.

Finally made it back to the homestead in time to make a pre-dinner snack. It would be a few hours, so I opted for some nachos. The snack of champions.

A few hours later, it was finally time to fire up the grill for some rib eye steaks. To complete the entrée, we made some cheddar mashed potatoes and grilled asparagus. Add a glass of red wine and you have a worthy meal.

An uneventful and relaxing day it was. The time change is kicking my butt. Until tomorrow.

Gulf Day #1

“Yeah now the sun goes slidin’ ‘cross the water. Sailboats they go searchin’ for the breeze. Salty air ain’t thin, it’ll stick right to your skin and makes you feel fine.” -Tin Cup Chalice, Jimmy Buffett.

Today (Monday), I drove forever across the great state of Georgia. Of the six hours I was in the car, 5 were spent on two-lane highways. If I had a case of Coors in the trunk, it would have been a scene right out of Smokey and the Bandit. I was west bound and down, loaded up and trucking. I even drove over Big Alligator Creek, which looked like a great place to dump a body and I sure never wanted to find myself there.

During this time, I made a few discoveries:
1) There are only a few city names, and Americans just reuse them.. There’s Hoboken, GA, Greenville, GA, and Greensboro, FL just to name a few. I just love creativity.
2) My GPS, (recently named Carmen), is smarter than I am. Not only did she direct me down the most obscure roads I have ever traveled, but she knew of the time difference. After departing from Savannah, my ETA was 17:00. I thought to myself, hey, 5 hours, that’s not too bad. At roughly 15:30 I realized there was no way I was going to make it and that’s when it hit me, she was saying 17:00 Central time. Technology always amazes me. They just don’t dance like Carmen no more.

When I arrived, I had time to kill, so I headed straight to the Gulf. That’s when I discovered something, I have a nautical soul. There’s a certain connection I have with the sea, always have. I happened to arrive at sunset, and you’ve seen the pictures already. I locked eyes with Mother, Mother Ocean and felt right at home. Later in the day, I received an email from my Grandmother who told me that my Great-grandmother was born in Tampa. I already knew my Grandmother had lived in Beaufort, SC growing up, so the SEA is in my DNA. It explains a lot.

If a picture paints a thousand words…

My day in photos

A Walkabout

In the words of Crocodile Dundee, I just took a ‘walkabout’. Some would call it getting lost, but it was an adventure through the dark alleys and homeless population of Savannah. Anyone who knows me would know that I have a great sense of direction, and wondered around downtown all evening without a hitch. But after a few of the mircrobrews, I suppose my innate sense of direction was overrode. The good news is, I made it back safely.

The bad news is, Savannah Smiles has new hours, of which they are closed on Sundays. How much of a bummer is that? I guess I will just have to go there Thursday night when I am back in town. Due to this, my evening is now much less eventful and I suppose it’s time to get some sleep. Oh how boring.

Day 1 in review: Football and Lesbians

I know you’re reading the title going, “WHAT????” Well let me explain. Today has been quite the first day and I’m glad to report that I have stories to tell, and it’s only 9 PM. I will be heading to Savannah Smiles shortly, which is a dualing piano bar, and if it’s as eventful as I expect, I’ll report about it tomorrow.

Today though, is why I’m writing. First of all, how about them Steelers? It’s only near the end of the 3rd quarter and there’s much to play, but so far so good. Who isn’t happy about this? My very masculine waitress at Moon River Brewery.

At first I thought I had ruined my evening. As she asked for my beverage order, I ended with “thank you ma’am.” As soon as the words left my mouth I went, “Oh crap, she is a woman, right?” I’m 99.9% sure that’s the case, but I could forsee my night being very rough. Luckily for me, I have a charming gene which worked for the rest of my time at Moon River Brewery. She was pulling for the Jets, which made sense, and we made fun of the rivalry. I guess I can literally make friends anywhere.

As far as Moon River Brewery goes, I must make a quick review while it’s on my mind. First of all, the English Pale Ale they had, (of which I can’t remember the name), was horrible. (I googled it and it’s the “Apparition Ale”). Perhaps that’s why I can’t remember the name. It was terribly malty, and a borderline rhy ale which in my opinion, is a terrible beer. I was giving up hope until their IPA, “Swamp Fox IPA.” This was a nice, hoppy, yet almost citrus-y IPA. It wasn’t amazing, but a solid brew of which I would order again. Then, to the suggestion of my manly bartender, I tried their Golden Ale. This brew was entitled “Nick’s Balls of Gold” and was surely the concoction of much balls. I’m not sure what that means, but it was a solid beer. I enjoyed one and then my new favorite words left the lips of my masculine waitress.

“Would you like one to go?” What? I responded, “Oh, do you bottle your beers?” No, that’s not the case. Apparently Georgia has fantastic open container laws which allowed me to take a fine microbrew on the road. This was one of the most amazing moments of my 23 years. A beer to go? How fast can I say, “yes ma’am’?”

Aside from my brews and lesbians, I also experienced a few fun points today. Apparently Hannah, SC is the home of Josh Turner, a “famous Country Music star.” I have barely heard of him but he has a sign in the woods in the middle of nowhere that indicates his point of origin. Please his heart.

Lastly, I must note the line in the Billy Currington song, “God is great, Beer is good, and people are crazy.” He rhymes obituary with millionary, which is quite amazing. I make that noteworthy because it is pure lyrical genius. Up there with Aerosmith’s “pink, it’s like red but not quite” lyric. Oh the simple things in life.

Until tomorrow, the Captain is out.

“Warm beer and bread, they said could raise the dead. Well it reminds me of the menu at a Holiday Inn. Times change for sailors these days. When I’m in port I get what I get. No just havanas or bananas or daquiris, but that Amiercan creation on which I feed. Cheeseburgers in paradise.” -Jimmy Buffett

Savannah Daydreamin’

I have finally arrived at destination number 1: Savannah, GA. This is the ‘half-way’ point on my way to Florida.  Now I must nap, then awake in time for some Jets-Steelers action.

As a side note, upon arrival I realized that I’ve stayed at this hotel before. It seems like a past life at this point, and as I walked the halls, viewed the courtyard, and rode the elevator, ghosts of years past came rushing back, uninvited. I guess it’s all fitting with this whole new perspective on life. Your past can’t really be forgotten or hidden, you just have to embrace it as another chapter in your memoir. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. And I tell the ghosts to go fly a kite, except my language is a bit more flowery. It is not cool in the least bit to be haunted. I guess this will be the beginnings of a song. Good idea Kev. Let’s see, I shall call it ‘Haunted Hotel’.

Settlin’ in on a sunny afternoon
Another 400 miles and a night without sleep
A hotel memory comes rushing from the past
An old friend, her ghost no longer hidden deep

I get on the elevator but not alone
The button lights up for the 2nd floor
But it won’t budge and take me up
She’s just holding the open door

So I walk the halls, just to find a way
To say the words, I need to say
But I turn around, and she’s gone again
I’m left with just her haunting grin

More to come later…

Pre flight check

The pre-flight checklist is going well. Suitcase: check. Guitar: check. Tire pressure, oil and gas: check. My ship is ready to go when the hour approaches.

I can’t help but think of how much cooler the pre-flight checklist would be of a pirate’s ship. Main sails: check. Food supplies: check. Rum: check. How great it would be to be preparing for the unexpecting open ocean. Jimmy Buffet writes that although the respects the open water, he doesn’t fear it. I’m the same way with the open road. After numerous 400 miles treks between Asheville and wilmington, the road is a necessity. Yet here I am exploring uncharted territory. Hundreds of miles of pavement just waiting for me. At 07:00 I will depart for a new land. What awaits me, I’m not quite sure. What I do know is that I’m ready for what I find. Yo ho ho.

Travel Blog

Welcome to post #1 of my new travel blog. I prefer to think of it as the beginning chapters of my adventure-filled memoirs. Why wait until you’re old to write everything down? I’ve procrastinated too much in life as it is, so it’s about time to get a jumpstart on something.

First things first, it’s time to pack. Only 36 hours until departure and I’m, as always, over packing. I’d never survive backpacking through Europe because I can’t even fit my essentials in multiple suitcases. Oh well, Semper Paratus, which means ‘always prepared’ in Latin. Good thing 3 years of Latin payed off.

I can hear my mother in my head right now telling me what to pack just like the old family vacations. Underwear: check. Socks: check. Shirts and pants: check. Toothbrush and deodorant are in standby mode to be packed last minute. Ok, enough of the mundane, it’s time for the fun stuff.

Laptop and charger, (for more writing and occasional Netflix watching): check. I need a new laptop but that’s another story. Passport, cash, and Rachel (my 9mm Ruger): check. I have a nifty OS box (Oh Sh**) box I keep these in. You never know when armageddon, zombies, 2012, or confused drug smugglers will strike. It’s a nice Perdomo cigar box and it’s like my MasterCard, I never leave home without it. Or is that Amex? I can never remember. It actually doesn’t matter because you can insert ‘accepted everywhere’ or any other catchy slogan and it will be applicable.

Next I need some reading material. A Pirate Looks at Fifty and A Salty Piece of Land will be my paradise-themed companions both authored by my hero, Jimmy Buffett. As Kelly McGuire puts it, “Blame it on Buffett.” I also blame my cowboy and pirate ancestors. I have an affinity for open water, seafood, beer, and the occasional inappropriate word. But I do it with charm, so it works.

Lastly, let’s grab la guitara. If you don’t know already, I speak broken Spanish. Just enough to order Mexican food (sine no lechuga) and a frio cerveza. Anyway, my guitar is now a must. I plan on writing, playing, and serenading women on this voyage. Lock up your daughters. Let’s be honest, it will most likely be me singing alone after a few cervezas, but it sounds more cowboy-ish the other way. If only pirates had guitars…yet they only had swords. Oh well, as David Lee Roth said, that’s life. (I know Sinatra said it first, but DLR never gets quoted enough.)

That should do it for now. Until then my friends.