Taking the wrong exit

It’s Friday night and I’m sick, so I’m staying in. There’s nothing to really post about the O’s at the moment. I’m taking a self-imposed break of talking about the following:

-Erik Bedard trade rumors

-Brian Robers trade rumors

-The Seattle Mariners

-The Chicago Cubs

If something legit comes up then I’ll break it.

I try to stick to talking about the O’s and baseball on here. I don’t like diluting it by going off topic, but I did think this merited meaning because it was so absurd.

In December, me and my sister went to Missouri to see our Grandma and the rest of relatives. It’s not an easy drive. If you leave at night like we did, you can do the 800 mile drive in 12 hours (that’s with the time change). The trip out there was uneventful except for hitting snow in the North Carolina mountains and seeing mile after mile of interstate. The trip itself was good. Nothing to complain about except for not enough time.

On the way back, we were going to meet up with some relatives in Tennessee and eat dinner with them. Maybe about an hour and something outside of Nashville I needed to stop. We took my sister’s car out there because it has a better track record than my car. Since I do have the bad habit of smoking, I needed (or rather wanted) a cigarette. I didn’t want to smoke in front of my relatives, so I wanted to do it before hand. Since it was her car, she didn’t want me stinking up her car. That’s understandable and I’d be the same way if I didn’t.

We got off on the exit for Bucksnort. Great town name. Should have took that as a sign right there. There was this gas station that we would stop at for a few minutes and then be on our way. It was dark at this point. Maybe around seven o’clock. As we pull in, I see this rather stereotypical bunch gathered around the back of a pickup truck. Thinking I was smarter than them, I pulled around to the other side of the gas station. I parked in the far end of the parking lot. Away from the pumps and away from everyone else. I was still congratulating myself as I got a drink out of the ice chest and lit me one up. So I was standing there and I see these two guys in their 40’s standing near the front of the store. One of them had his shirt pulled up exposing a rather large beer gut. He was pointing to something. I assumed it was a knife wound or maybe a tatoo of Elvis (Graceland is in Tennessee). Feeling replused at the sight, I turned the other way.

I looked behind me and what I saw was much worse. The building beside it was painted bright red and had the huge words on the side ‘adult bookstore.’ That’s great” I thought. It wasn’t that replused me. There’s plenty of those around, but it was what else was ajoined to it. Apparently, It was a perfect trifecta business or a rather unforunate locations. I think it was the trifecta. It was the bookstore, a hotel, and an all you can eat catfish buffet. For a minute I laughed. They were so close together that I think they were all connected. It was dark, so I didn’t get a great look. After a quick laugh, I was replused. You can understand why and I’ll leave it at that. I looked across the street and saw a bar called ‘Country Hooters.’ Besides their clever name, they had a clever slogan; which was ‘good food, brew, and babes.’ I believe they would be correct only on the fact that they have brew. I doubt from the looks of it that there’d be good food in there and I seriously doubt that that place has any babes there. At this point, I get in the car and tell my sister “let’s get far away from here.”

We met my relatives and I was at one table with some of my cousins and she was at the other with our aunt, uncle, and another cousin. Unknowingly,We both told the same story and they all said the same thing ‘Oh…you stopped at Bucksnort’ and laughed.

I’m not stopping at Bucksnort again, not even if I’m really craving some catfish.

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