If traveling’s the white horse, I’m the evening cotton shooter chasing the dragon…
TSA Agent: “Are you traveling alone today?
Me: “No; it should be a full flight.”
Thank you so much for that delicious meal. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to finish them all. I recommend smaller bags of peanuts.
Who wouldn’t want to sit next to this?
Touchdown in Phoenix, AZ
December 1st recap: Today, I learned that travelers are retarded, that my body doesn’t have enough ethnic genes to gracious accept soul food, and that 40 year old drug addicted alcoholics should probably sleep with their blinds pulled closed. The day began at 0500 hours in beautiful Newark. More specifically, Terminal A, the projects of Liberty International Airport. As I sat on the weathered leather chair, slowing sinking into the 16 inch duct tapped tear, it dawned on me: people either travel or they don’t. Is there really any acceptable excuse why a college aged male is still walking through the body scanner for the fourth attempt while still wearing a belt and a watch? Why is that lady walking through security with a large cup of java, after being told no liquids? Yes, you really do have to take your iPad out of your bad. No, you are not the only person traveling today, but you are the biggest asshole at the airport. Why are people still running down the Tarmac when 2/3 of the plane is still boarding? Why can’t TSA agents give clear and concise instructions. “Sir, you can either go in this line or the other because one is going to be faster than the other.” “So which do you want me to go in? What’s faster.” “Either one you pick is fine, or you can stay where you are. Your choice.” “So I can stay here?” “Yes, or go over there or there (pointing)”. Why is that family of three trying to fit 6 suitcases, 3 carry-on bags, a few jackets and a purse in the overhead bins when you can check your bags for free? Are we really that inconsiderate or just that naive? But I digress.
The airport in Phoenix is incredible and efficient. It took 17 minutes to get off the plane, gather our bags, ride the shuttle, and rent a car from Enterprise. Very clean airport but the people are over-friendly. While waiting for our car we met a kid, Anthony, who had just moved here from upstate New York. We asked for a local place to eat. He was adamant that THEEE place to eat around here was Lo-Lo chicken and Waffles. We laughed a bit, agreed, and drive there. We pulled up to the run-down business, located off South Central Avenue and wedged between and vacant warehouse and a Baptist church (should have been our first guess) and parked in the street. Although the offer from a couple guys to “valet” park our cars in a chained fenced lot for $5 was tempting, we generously denied. Upon entering the chicken shack, we were enthusiastically met by a young girl wearing a black shirt that read, “ghetto rich”, the other greater had a shirt which read, “hangover helper”. “How many in your party?” Is what she probably asked, but with the younger ring and pierced lip, all that we got was “y’all tay?”. Did you ever have a feeling that you are being watched or looked at funny? As we looked into the restaurant, we soon realized we were the skinniest and whites customers. Apparently, this is a local hangout and guests or outsiders are infrequent. Regardless, feeling an appetite for southern soul food, we sat down, ordered the three (3) piece fried chicken, two (2) double waffles and the quart sized mason jar filled with cherry Kool Aid from tap! While eating it, it was one of the greatest tasting meals I’ve eaten in my life. As a matter of fact, 5 hours after eating it, I still taste it with every acidic burp! At the same time, this was the worst a d unhealthiest meal I’ve ever eaten in my life. The butter alone was enough for me to gain 5 pounds, let alone the deep fried food or the sugar induced water.
We ended in Flagstaff, Arizona at the time of this post. Tomorrow the plan is to go north to the Grand Canyon for half the day, then make our way to Las Vegas who,e traveling along historic Route 66. We will end in a casino somewhere in Vegas; one free of street walkers slinging hillbilly heroin. More to come tomorrow.