I think it was the spider nest at our first hotel that nearly broke my resolve. We took off after work, driving to the outskirts of Pittsburgh, where we’d be stopping for the night.
Have you ever seen one of those horror movies, where the night is dark and the couple pull up to a hotel that just doesn’t look right? Not the country road ivy-covered rotting building type but the black-as-night city with the modern, concrete block, deserted kind of building?
There was a well-lit lobby in the hotel, but as soon as you left the island of light, there were plastic sheet-covered walls and painter’s tape and drywall-dust-covered floors. The plastic sheets wavered as moved past them.
Once we hit the end of the hallway, we were guessing out loud the state of our room…and then I saw the spider’s lair…up there, about a foot across, with spider and bug victims. Yes, I nearly lost my “hey, this is an adventure, let’s make the best of it” resolve.
Road Trip
We’d planned what we called a “Fall family reunion” with my West-coast family, but it was truly just a thinly-veiled all-adult Mouse-worshiping trip to Disney World in Orlando.
My husband Joe and I would be leaving behind our lazy Saturday routine of leather armchair movie-watching and TV-show binging to fly in from Toronto. Or…would we?
My husband Joe loves cars. LOVES cars. He can tell you trivia about new cars or his favourite muscle cars from the 70’s until your head has nodded so much you can no longer nod. He identifies, out loud, the make, model and year of cars as he drives. So he did not want to fly. He wanted to drive. Drive all the way to Florida. Miles and miles and miles.
I, on the other hand, dislike long car rides. And when I travel, I want to just get there. The experience of travel is to be in the place I want to explore. And I was thrilled to be visiting the Mouse House. So to keep my stick-shifting car-loving husband happy, I agreed to a drive.
As soon as our neighbour heard about this, his head popped over the fence and he explained to Joe and me that he’d just drive through overnight and had done the 20-plus hour drive in a minimum of hours with only 1 stop.
No. No, no, no. I was not falling for our friend’s reco. It sounded like a caffeine-hopped-up bum-numbing endless view of road. This drive would put me over the edge within the first 4 hours, and I’d be reading random store signs and billboards out loud in a sing-song way like the ancient William Hickey in “Forget Paris.”
Planning
Picturing this kicked me into quick action. Preparation was key. Not only was I stocking the car with great tunes but because we were trying to limit data roaming on our phones, I updated our car’s GPS with the most recent US map files.
Now, funny enough, while the GPS was helpful, there were times when we’d be on a road but the GPS showed us “flying” across a field and we had to turn off the voice urging us to turn.
Foodie on the Go
While some people look at familiar chain restaurants as comforting, my foodie self craves the unique, the local, the best. Thus, more importantly, I planned for places along our route which had been featured in Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives or were well-recommended on Yelp.
To make up for the hotel disaster, we found Einstein’s bagels in Pittsburgh. They make pretzel bagels and specialize in a flavoured cream cheese SHMEAR.
We also stopped at Rita’s for an ice custard in Pennsylvania. The real difference between ice custard and ice cream is the egg yolk added to the custard. Choose this or an authentic Italian Ice and it’s well worth the stop.
I found a little tapas place called 13 Gypsies in Jacksonville, Florida which touted itself as “a peasant kitchen”. They make their own bread, sausage, cheeses and pickled vegetables, all served on little plates in the Spanish tradition.
One of the best restaurants we found was Dish, a home-cooking restaurant in Charlotte, North Carolina. From our first fried green tomatoes to the slow-cooked pot roast, collard greens, smashed potatoes with bits of hamhock to the final banana pudding parfait topped with a giant dollop of whipped cream, we were in heaven.
Along the way we stumbled on a tourist office that offered a walk-in butterfly experience and fresh-roasted Virginia peanuts.
The most memorable experience, though? On the border of Georgia, we found a trio of birdlike tourism ladies who excitedly chirped at us about an upcoming shrimp and grits festival on Jekyll Island, sponsored by Southern Living magazine. Now, if you’re at all familiar with Southern Living, you’ll know its quality. For the rest of you, envision a mix of House & Home with Canadian Living. So I plopped the details into my calendar for the trip back and boy was it an adventure!
You access Jekyll island across a causeway. Once you’ve circled the island, you park on the airport strip. A bus takes you through the neighborhoods and the many trees dripping Spanish moss.
At the entrance I talked to a farmer and bought his giant hand-picked apple dipped in caramel. We made our way through the artisan tents, got to the centre where local boys were playing country music while the locals danced and 10 booths fought for our attention with unique recipes for shrimp and grits.
I promised to drive back so Joe could enjoy the beer tent. While I won’t get into details, did you know it’s terrifying to drive across a 2-lane causeway with water on either side of you on a pitch-black night in a thunderstorm?
We make a great couple when we travel, because neither one of us are too strict about plans and can take it as it comes. This works in our favour as we have what I like to call “adventures.”
After all, life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you could miss it.
