Finishing The Voyage 6/22

Day two began leisurely. After waking from a dead sleep in a panic because I didn't know when my checkout time was, I found a paper that said they wouldn't kick me out until around noon.  I got myself together and was out of the hotel around 11:00AM. I have come to realize that my Garmin GPS (who I have lovingly nicknamed "Garmy" or "Skank" for when I get particularly mad) is a dirty, rotten liar. Finding a gas station in Charleston was like attempting to find a needle in a haystack. Garmy told me that there were three gas stations within one tenth of a mile around me. This couldn't have been further from the truth. I eventually found one in the parking lot of a grocery store called "Food-a-lot" (only in West Virginia...) the store should probably have been renamed "Sketchy-R-Us". After fueling up I was on the road and only about 200 miles from Berea. 

I've always heard that the further you go south, the nicer people are supposed to be. However, Kentucky must have missed that memo. Even though I am from Maryland, I live South of the Mason Dixon Line. I would not consider myself a northern or a "yankee". We're just kind of floating in limbo. Of course my license plate does not explicitly state this and therefore I have been labelled a "Damn Yankee". 

At first I wasn't sure what to make of my new title. I was first introduced to it when I stopped at a Starbucks in Hurricane, West Virginia. After ordering my drink I took a seat and an elderly gentleman walked in. He ordered his drink and proceeded to stand so I got up and offered him my chair. When I opened my mouth to speak, he immediately knew I was not from the area and asked where I was from. When I said that I was from Baltimore, Maryland, he said, "We'll you're the nicest damn yankee I've ever met. Yer parents should be proud!" Look at that mom and dad, next time I don't do the dishes, think about that one. 

Not knowing exactly how to react, I soon found out that my new nickname was not necessarily a positive thing. You see, in WV and KY the speed limit is typically set at around 70 mph. However, the speed that this actually means for those who live around here is between 85 and 90 mph. Being from out of state and not wanting to have to go to jail for being "brassy" with a police officer, I chose to abide by the 70 mph speed limit and stay in the right hand lane. This seemed to work out quite well until I crossed the state line into Kentucky. 

Being from Maryland, I am used to people having some serious road rage. I-95 and 695 traffic is no piece of cake. However, if someone is usually unhappy with the way that you are driving they go around you and it is over with. In Kentucky, things are a little bit different. First of all, there is no admissions testing in Kentucky. This means that I passed everything from men on motorcycles going 95 mph with no helmets, bumpers falling off and dragging on the ground, break lights were considered optional, and who knew hand signals were still used instead of a functional blinker? In Kentucky, if you are not driving up to par with other people's expectations, you will be cursed at, honked at, flipped off, etc. This will last, not just while the people pass you, but for the next five miles up the road while you are still in the sites of their rearview mirror.  My highlight of this included a small child hanging out the window of his parents mini-van shaking his fist at me and screaming "Go home ya damn yankee!" while his mother in the drivers seat flipped me off. Keepin' it classy, Kentucky. 

When I finally made it to Dr. Zook's house, I was greeted by Susan (her partner and a dear friend of mine) and a crew of workers. Dr. Z's house is currently under renovations so I was immediately put to work. After helping the Doc cook dinner, I served some botulism watermelon. You know that watermelon that you cut up and it smells a little weird but you taste it and it's fine then once you serve it, it seems to have completely rotted through? No? Yep.... this just happens to me. 

After doing some odds and ends around the house and helping out as much as I could. I found out that I apparently am the incredible hulk of sandbox lifting. It was a great first day and I can't wait to see what the rest of the weekend brings. I'm getting a dual internship in medicine and construction whether I wanted it or not! To be honest, it's pretty bangin'. 

Until Next Time,

~Wacko Jacko~