The Road Trip and The Boobie Bungalow
Salacious title, and I will get to it; but this is a story about a road trip.
After X-Mass we had planned to go see my wife’s father (He lives in south-Central Tennessee, about 250 miles from us if you go by expressway) the day after Christmas, but with the snow and ice on the roads neither he nor we felt it would be safe – so we delayed it by a week.
For the first time I was able to rent a car for the trip (usually I don’t have enough money – this time luck was on my side and I had a little extra). So for the weekend we rented a 2009 Kia Rondo with full insurance. It’s a nice, comfortable car with seats that sit up like you are in a truck, excellent visibility, and a pretty good bit of zoom for a 4-cylinder. It made for a pleasant trip. My wife, my youngest, and myself would follow my oldest, my brother-in-law, and my eldest’s fiancée in her car. Here I have to state that, despite the apparent testicular requirements that the man be the driver I was not. As it happens (and please don’t report this to the ‘I’ve Got Huge Balls’ consortium as I think they might take offense against the MAN CODE) my wife is a better driver than I am (while I am a better navigator than she it).
The plan was to hit the road by 8AM, drive the slightly over 4 hours to his house, eat lunch and spend some time, then drive back that afternoon. This is pretty much what we did, save our travelling companions took about an hour after they left home to eat some breakfast, fuel up, and actually hit the expressway.
I love to see the places and names of places when on a trip; I especially love to see them in the Southeast as you never know what to expect. We have cities and places with Amer-Indian, English, and Spanish names aplenty; plus you get a smattering of strange ones. The Tallapoosa, Coosa, and Tennessee Rivers (plus such notables as the Lower Duck River Watershed), towns like Warrior, Pulaski (which I found out later is the home of the KKK, though the town really hates that association – cannot blame them at all), Frankewing, and all of the villes, bergs, and dales along the way.
And the names of the businesses and parks, OMG I love them. I often hate the homogenization of the nation, the fact that there is a McDonalds at every damn exit; but I understand them to a point. I wouldn’t do away with those icons of standardized Americana, but I wish there were fewer of them. I know that the local mom & pop shops were often of dubious quality, but I think I would brave a few of them (others, no way).
Anyway the trip was fun, we had a good time. We ate a nice lunch with my wife’s father, let the kids play on their Wii (my youngest and my wife’s father’s wife got into a bowling dual – she had to keep playing until she could beat him a few times. She’s pretty good once she hit her stride, but I think maybe my youngest missed a few on purpose). The ride home was nice, we stopped by the Saturn IB at the rest stop juts inside Alabama on I65 south (we have been to it before, but it’s great to see one of the smallest Saturn’s up close. Have I ever mentioned I am a GEEK?)
So about the Salacious title – well just north of Huntsville and right across the Tennessee state line we saw some signs for “Show Girls”, which I figured must be nude dancers. I do not know if Alabama has changed their laws (Someone could chime in and let me know – frankly I am interested but not enough to look into it myself), but when I worked their in the early 1990’s there was no nude dancing in the state; the best they had were GoGo dancing clubs (I kid you not!). Now I have never understood why anyone would want to go to a strip club, not really. Intellectually I know males are extremely visual and that we/they like to see naked females; I also know that by serving alcohol the clubs lower their inhibitions and get them to spend more money. I just don’t understand why anyone would want to get all hot and bothered and be able to do nothing about it? If you touch one of the girls (at least officially, I am quite sure a lot of prostitution and sex goes on off the books and unofficially) you will quickly be escorted by Mongo into the parking lot where he will show you the new dents all over your car made when he slams your face into it (or rather when you repeatedly slip and fall quite forcefully onto the finder, hood, trunk, roof, doors, and side mirrors – you clumsy oaf).
Anyway as we finally passed the correct exit we saw two signs – one for “Show Girls” and the other for “The Boobie Bungalow”. I do not know if there were two clubs, or if The Boobie Bungalow had Show Girls (Don’t know, don’t really care). My youngest said he would have thought they would have come up with a classier name, to which I said class wants what they were aiming for. I then had a thought, and as with most meme’s that invade my mind I had to spread it. So I will end my blog this week by infecting you all with this horrible thought:
The girls who dance nude do so for money, and they get more money in larger cities. Thus the prettier girls will be in the larger cities while in places like this, where the nearest city of size is Huntsville, Alabama and that is over 20 miles distant, will be less attractive in general. So in “The Boobie Bungalow” it would not surprise me to know the following phase has been uttered quite a bit: “I cannot wait to seem some hot… Grandma, what the hell are you doing? Put your clothes back on!”
Sorry about that. I am evil after all.DrC.