Bridges, lessons learned, and other random adventures

Now that I have mostly caught up on my sleep and have wasted literally hours on facebork, I'll get back to telling you about my road trip.

First, Skippy. (Dammit, where is my camera??) Drats, I can't find my camera. I want to take a new, close-up pic of Skippy. Oh well, here's one of him showing off the little gift package I got when I checked into the hotel in Connecticut. As I mentioned in my last post, I got him at a little shop on the Blue Ridge Parkway (BRP) on my way north.

Before I got on the BRP I stopped to eat at a Waffle House (WH), knowing that I'd soon travel beyond the range of that purveyor of comestibles. One thing I've noticed about Waffle Houses recently is that their employees seem to have better teeth. The old joke no longer applies. (That baby has more teeth than the entire third shift at Waffle House.)

There was a new guy working the WH the day I visited. He's a manager trainee, but evidently very new and that day he was learning the basics of waiting tables and calling out orders. Thankfully the crowd was light in the mid afternoon. All the gals working with him had to tell him how to call the orders to the cook. There is a protocol for that, you know. He was making a mess of it. His coworkers were very patient with him. The fact that he was young and cute might have influenced their attitudes. He was of average height, fit build without being either bulky or skinny, and had his blond hair in a buzz cut. I estimate his age to be 25. And he had red cheeks and the sweetest smile that made his eyes twinkle. He was very good natured about the whole fiasco. Really, the other gals carried the work very well as he stumbled along so it wasn't a fiasco at all. They called him Skippy. He did not wait on me, but I sat at the high counter with a front row seat to the show. I never saw his name tag clearly, but I think it said "Skip." So a couple of hours later when I bought my little black bear, his name had to be Skippy.

That happened at the beginning of the trip. From here I'm going to relate my experiences in reverse chronological order (mostly), mainly because I need to tell you about my night at the campground in New Jersey.

New Jersey is an odd place. For one thing, they don't sell maps of all of New Jersey on one map. I found an atlas (book) of every New Jersey county but that exceeds my NJ information needs. I was over halfway through NJ before I found a map I could use. The NJ roads and highways are different from what I'm used to. Busier, more commercial enterprises along the road. It was one long long long long series of strip malls from north of Trenton to Camden. I got off the Garden State Parkway where it intersects the NJ Turnpike and followed US-1 to US-130 which took me down the western part of the state. I got on a little two lane county road at one point that was quite pleasant. Otherwise, too much traffic. I had the address and directions to a campground in Clarksboro, but laws-a-mercy it was nigh unto impossible to find! I circled around, narrowing my spiral until I had to stop for directions. I hate doing that. But I finally found it! I felt so accomplished!

I was on the road for approximately 11 hours that day driving from Southington, CT to Clarksboro, NJ. The date was June 22, 2013, the day after the first day of summer, ergo sunlight stayed around late. I got to the campground at 8:00, maybe 8:30 and had plenty of light to set up my Conestoga. That was also the night of the supermoon (as near as I could tell) and I wanted to sleep outside that night.

As is typical of most campgrounds now, this place caters primarily to camper trailers and RVs. There were two tent camping sites beside a small cabin in a somewhat remote area away from any other campers. Shortly after I arrived a trio of young people, twenty-somethings, came to the cabin. One young man and two women. I didn't catch the guy's age, but the girls were 20 and 25.

They came to party. Oooh boy. Miss 20 yr old got an early start with hard liquor. The others were mostly drinking beer. They invited me to join them, which I did. Two other young men friends of theirs, Joe and Andrew (both HOT!!) joined them a bit later. I took a six pack over (because it's proper to take booze to a booze party, right?) and stuck to beer all night. Had my first taste of Bud Light Lime. Meh, OK but not spectacular. I had been drinking Third Shift lager, which I prefer. We were sitting around the fire ring in front of the cabin shooting the breeze and chillin' out. 'Twas quite enjoyable. Miss 20 yr old and the first guy went into the cabin (where the little refrigerator with the beer lived), turned out the lights, and got loudly frisky. Odd, but whatever. Afterward she kept drinking the hard stuff, and eventually became belligerent. First guy tried to calm her down, but she got violent with him. Joe and Andrew were getting uncomfortable, saying they were going to leave. They'd planned to stay the night.

And here's where I get stupid. (You see what's coming, right?) I don't have a lot of experience (OK, none) with violent drunks, but I can usually help sober people when they get out of hand. So I tried to calm down this little Miss 20 yr old. And she was little, probably weighs less than half what I do. I'm big, but not very strong. She was little, drunk, and very strong. With strong healthy teeth and good muscular jaws. Yep, I got beat up. The bitch bit me (broke the skin) in at least three places- my right side, right bicep, and left ring finger. She punched me in the chest above the right breast and in the back of my head. That happened a week ago, Saturday night last week. My finger and arm are still a little bit oozy and sore. The bruises all over have faded to a sickly yellow. Oh, she also got me in the jaw but not hard enough to bruise, thankfully. I bit my lip and cheek in the process, and that was sore for a few days. That's better now.

Lesson well and truly learned: stay away from angry drunk people.

After Joe and Andrew put bandages on my cuts they left and I went to my truck to sleep. After I minced to the bathroom. You know a person only rents beer. It gave the old kidneys a good workout. (Probably the liver, too.) I got to sleep pretty easily, but some time later was awakened by some noise and lights coming from the cabin. I peeked through my curtains and saw a law enforcement cruiser and two officers with flashlights at the cabin. Then I heard her yelling curses and insults. One of the officers said "Alright, now you're under arrest," to which she cursed some more. And low and behold if I didn't have to pee again. So I got up and made my way to the bathroom. On the way back I got a flashlight in my eyes, but no discussions ensued. When I woke up at 7:00 Sunday morning everyone was gone. So I packed up and went south.

I drove over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge (not the bridge-tunnel from the Norfolk area) which I've heard can be kinda scary for people with bridge allergies. Gephyrophobia. Bridges used to make me uncomfortable, but not so much anymore. Oh, I also crossed over the Tappan-Zee Bridge into New York (or was it New Jersey there?) That was fun. Of course on the way from South Carolina to Pennsylvania I crossed the New River Gorge Bridge, one of my faves. It was a bridge crossing trip. Sean and Jeffrey took me across the Hudson River a lot when I visited Breen Acres.

Sunday I drove to Richmond, VA to my cousin's house. She had a little baby girl two months ago and I wanted to hold someone else's baby, which I did. I also got to play with her precious two-year-old son.  I did not want her to know about by violent encounter, and thankfully the shirt I wore covered all my injuries except the deep cut (bite) on my finger, and that was easily explained as a camping incident. You know, I pinched my finger (between some bitch's teeth). I was exhausted and not up to extensive visiting, so I didn't contact any of my lovely blogger friends in the Richmond area. Sorry guys. Maybe next time. When I went to bed Sunday night I told my cousin not to worry about keeping the kids quiet, that I'd wake up whenever I needed to. I hoped to get a fairly early start on my trip back to South Carolina, but did not set any alarms or anything. And I slept until 11:00! Woah! I was tired! It made the trip home seem longer and hotter, getting that late a start, but I don't mind. If I was tired enough to sleep that long (at least 12 hours), I needed the sleep more than I needed to get home early.

I am back in The South(TM). It's hot and humid, just like summer in The South(TM). I hate it, but I'll try not to complain too much. There is baseball and air conditioning, so it's OK. I didn't watch Braves baseball the whole 2.5 weeks I was away. They did well without my supervision.

And that's all I have to say about that.