Yesterday, my husband and I decided to make a agonizingly long trip without working DVD screens and two irritable children little drive to the Whistle Stop Cafe.
I had been there years ago when his family dragged me to one of the dozens of family reunions they go to every year. Back then, I had not learned which ones to go to and which ones to avoid. I remember that I was in college when we went, because I took a huge stack of books along with me to study for finals on the way.
My son loves to watch the movie Fried Green Tomatoes, so I thought he’d really get a kick out of actually being in the place where it was filmed. He did. He did NOT get a kick out of actually eating the fried green tomatoes, in fact, he hated them. My daughter, picky eater extraordinaire, absolutely loved them. After lunch, (during which I totally stuffed myself silly with a BLT, Freedom Fries, and the best apple pie ever) we walked around and visited a few of the shops. Before leaving for home, we walked around an old motorcycle museum…this is just about the only way my poor husband get near them usually.
The trip home was a bit better, since miraculously the DVD player started working again. It was a peaceful drive for the most part, until my hubby started picking on me. This guy driving a Crossfire apparently kept speeding up and passing us in the next lane, then slowing down, getting behind us, and then repeating it all over again. Not that I noticed half of this happening…hubby did, because every time the car drove past us the guy would turn his head and look at me. I looked up once to see the car passing us, and I saw the guy look at me, but I certainly didn’t think anything of it. The only reason I remember the name of the car is because I made a comment that I’d never seen one of those before. I saw the whole process happen again about ten minutes later. JB asked me if I knew him, but I assured him that I have no clue who the dude was. It was just…weird.
All weirdness aside, it was a fun day…although the next day trip I plan will be a little closer to home.