I don’t know what I was thinking when I thought that West Virginia was on the way to South Carolina. Maybe if I was coming from Canada …
We planned our cross country trip with the idea to take our time to “see the sights”. My apologies to middle America, but there really isn’t all that much I want to see between Colorado and the Carolinas. Gentle readers, feel free to disabuse me.
I’m sure it’s just my ignorance but it led me to think that stopping in West Virginia was a good idea, even though it was eight hours out of the way. That’s 16 more hours to get where we want to go, BTW.
Driving 25 hours in one stint can warp one’s perception of “a long way” and looking at the map, that extra inch to the north didn’t seem like that big of a deal … until now when we’re hoofing it to our next destination and I realize that eight hours is indeed quite far, but at least we’re seeing the sights. In West Virginia.
Seeing the sights with kids is a fucking waste of time, FYI. We crossed the longest single span bridge IN AMERICA, doubled back and pulled off at the visitor center to take in the majesty and marvel at the engineering.
The kids took one look and were like, “Meh. That’s not so big.”
And I’m like, LOOK! IT SAYS RIGHT HERE, THIS IS THE LONGEST SINGLE SPAN EXPANSION BRIDGE IN THE UNITED STATES! YOU CAN STACK THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT AND TWO STATUES OF LIBERTY ON TOP OF EACH OTHER UNDER IT. GAH! WHY DO I EVEN BOTHER!
We took Blue out stretch his legs and go tinkle. Of course everyone when berzerk over him and I was like, “Ain’t you never seen a freakishly large dog before?”
I’m sure the parents of the gawking kids were equally annoyed. LOOK AT THE BRIDGE, NOT THE STUPID DOG! COME ON, CULTURE!
As an aside, do you like talking to every single person you meet about your dog? Do you like horse jokes? Then you should definitely get a Great Dane.
Well then why did you get a Great Dane if you didn’t want to talk about him ad nauseum?
Fair question. I didn’t. His breed was actually the biggest strike against him. Zeb himself said, “I don’t want to have to talk to everyone I pass by.” But the big dummy was so sad and pathetic looking, we decided to overlook this shortcoming (heheh). We need a good comeback to the inevitable “put a saddle on him” comment. I’m open to suggestions.
Anyway, the extra eight plus hours gives me ample opportunity to balance more stuff on Blue’s head and take dumb pictures.
He’s a great travel dog, I’ll say it again. Unless we are staying somewhere with scary floors. Here’s a picture of him stuck at Uncle Scrotus’s house, he’s afraid of the stairs.
The stress of being away from his people was greater than his fear of uncarpeted surfaces and he finally followed us in after circling the house about fifty times.
Anyway, Blue was on high-alert last night, being in a new place and all. Every sound he heard – even Zeb just tapping on the table – elicited The Woof, or a growl with impressive basso profundo. How can a dog be such a pussy yet menacing all at the same time?
We recently crossed the border to North Carolina and since I ate a WHOLE BAG of salad greens from Uncle Scrote’s garden patch, I think I deserve some friend chicken and mashed potatoes. I’m in Rome, y’all!