After being touristas at the White House (and, incidentally, NOT seeing the snipers staked out around it, because they are good at their jobs) and learning firsthand that people who live in Washington DC are not very nice, we hit the road again towards Nashville, aka we drove through Virginia all the livelong day. Fun facts about Virginia: 1. It is for lovers 2. The speed on the highways is monitored by aircraft, which, by the way, is about as prevalent as the White House snipers. We also saw a few Super Churches and our first too-legit-to quit Confederate flag.
Speaking of Confederates, let's just talk about a lovely little dining establishment known as The Cracker Barrel. I'd seen a couple of them in New England but oh man they are a dime a dozen down here so three hours into our 10+ hour journey we figured we should stop to eat at one because Eleanor really loves it and at the time we didn't know that there'd be a Cracker Barrel for every exit on the highway. Here is where we experience first of what I can only assume will end up being many sub Mason-Dixon culture shocks: a considerate sign informing us that all people, regardless of race, gender, and religion were welcome to patronize the Cracker Barrel. Liz was the first to see the logistics: In former Confederate states, such a sign is necessary so that everyone knows that the name "Cracker Barrel" does not mean that it is a Barrel that only Crackers are allowed into. So that was nice. Our waiter was a sweet little boy who thought we were Martians and everything was literally dripping with grease, a la Paula Dean, aka awesome.
Then we drove all night a la Celine, and by we I mean Natalie, who finished the last leg of the trek and, four minutes after getting behind the wheel, promptly got pulled over on the Virginia/Tennessee border for doing 80 in a 65. Here's how that went:
Cop: Is there a reason why you are driving 80 in a 65?
Natalie: We're just heading to Nashville and I guess I got a little gas heavy, HOO HAH, I'M CUH-RAZY!!
Cop: Uhhh okay. Have a ticket.
Three hours later, the speed limit got jacked up to 70 for awhile so Natalie was good to go, racing the dashboard Widget, shaving minutes off of our approximated destination time. Then it got docked back down to 65 but she maintained a steady speed of 80 only to get pulled over again in Tennessee. This time Liz had a minute to prepare Natalie a more desperate, less Southern party animal response, so we were good until the cop threw us for a couple of loops, the most important one being a little lesson in regional dialects: People in Tennessee do not speak English.
Cop 2: Hugga bugga de deup delagay fuer the sugupt?
Blank stares.
Liz: (Translating) Natalie, here's the car registration and where's your license?
Cop 2: (In Tennessee) Where are you girls headed at 80 MPH?
Natalie: We're just trying to get to a hotel before it gets too dark, we've been traveling all day, I'm precious, I thought the speed limit was still 70, we're just a bunch of freedom loving Americans on a little road trip, etc. etc.
Cop 2: Alright, drive safely, the speed limit goes back up to 70 in a couple of miles.
Natalie: But not 80, right?!!
Laughs galore, crisis averted.
ALSO, we passed from Eastern Standard into Central Time. Driving through time zones is a lot less climactic in real life than it is in my head, shocker. I imagine time zones to be separated by shimmery, iridescent forcefields that you pass through and go back into time. Turns out, you don't even notice at all. Cell phones automatically readjust and driving into the past is only spectacular in theory.
So, bottom line, we've made it to Tennessee in four respective, individual pieces and are now ordering the cheapest room service I have ever seen in my life from this hotel we're staying in. It's only a little bit questionable, mainly because of a mysterious dark stain on the carpet that we initially thought was blood but Eleanor CSI-ed it and determined that it's merely iodine used to clean and disinfect the floor after the blood was shed. This road trip is giving me plenty of examples of states other than Massachusetts to compare California to, which is definitely excellent for my perspective.
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