We broke out of DC in the early AM of Tuesday, jetting down the 95 and 85 toward Atlanta, where a bowl of stew and a glass of Duvel awaited us at Brickstore in Decatur. Along the way, Erick's flatulence attacked the car , causing an unhealthy amount of cussing at our pudgy pledge bro's inability to control his damn self.
And, as with everything that comes in vapor form, the farts came to an end shortly after getting on the road. Don't get me wrong, the frequent Safeties made it feel like Chinese water torture, but I was thanking the gods of the road our lives could resume with normal breathing. My nose, forever scarred.
Thank them also for GPS and my new Blackcherry. Together, they've trumped faith in the Bible belt, and despite what the waitress at Bill Spoon's BBQ in Charlotte said about faith and how some dude in Florida was able to see through his glass eye because of a revival, I'll take the GPS unit.
Bill Spoon passed away recently, but his 40+ yr old restaurant was inherited by his grandson, who is successfully making this Eastern North Carolina BBQ place a continuance of food loving. Even though we were initially treated with first-time-to-see-an-Oriental stares, the staff quickly warmed up to us as we tag teamed them with pi class charm.
But you know, the Alabama BBQ that came along our way from Atlanta to New Orleans kicked the smoked pork in the pig-tailed pants. Tack on the sweet service of a southern belle who could sell pollution to Atlanta, plus the creepy as Boo Radley exterior of the Brick Pit, the entire experience was Revelational.
So enlightening and paradigm-shifting was the experience that Marion got a paradigm shifter of his own and decided to relearn driving stick and contribute to Asiamericana. We pulled over in a broke down palace of a gas station to train Mooch-Marion, but before we got back on the road, Erick had to put in a liquid deposit. Look at this picture. Can you find Bashful Erick?
It took about seven hours to get from Atlanta to New Orleans, and even though we had a surprise bash at Brickstore, with the Jason, the Janice, the Tina, the Carol, the Julia, and the Hsiao, we knew this latest stop would be a a crowd-pleaser. Yes, I'll take an order of fun and a side of debauchery. To go.
We broke out of DC in the early AM of Tuesday, jetting down the 95 and 85 toward Atlanta, where a bowl of stew and a glass of Duvel awaited us at Brickstore in Decatur. Along the way, Erick's flatulence attacked the car , causing an unhealthy amount of cussing at our pudgy pledge bro's inability to control his damn self.
And, as with everything that comes in vapor form, the farts came to an end shortly after getting on the road. Don't get me wrong, the frequent Safeties made it feel like Chinese water torture, but I was thanking the gods of the road our lives could resume with normal breathing. My nose, forever scarred.
Thank them also for GPS and my new Blackcherry. Together, they've trumped faith in the Bible belt, and despite what the waitress at Bill Spoon's BBQ in Charlotte said about faith and how some dude in Florida was able to see through his glass eye because of a revival, I'll take the GPS unit.
Bill Spoon passed away recently, but his 40+ yr old restaurant was inherited by his grandson, who is successfully making this Eastern North Carolina BBQ place a continuance of food loving. Even though we were initially treated with first-time-to-see-an-Oriental stares, the staff quickly warmed up to us as we tag teamed them with pi class charm.
But you know, the Alabama BBQ that came along our way from Atlanta to New Orleans kicked the smoked pork in the pig-tailed pants. Tack on the sweet service of a southern belle who could sell pollution to Atlanta, plus the creepy as Boo Radley exterior of the Brick Pit, the entire experience was Revelational.
So enlightening and paradigm-shifting was the experience that Marion got a paradigm shifter of his own and decided to relearn driving stick and contribute to Asiamericana. We pulled over in a broke down palace of a gas station to train Mooch-Marion, but before we got back on the road, Erick had to put in a liquid deposit. Look at this picture. Can you find Bashful Erick?
It took about seven hours to get from Atlanta to New Orleans, and even though we had a surprise bash at Brickstore, with the Jason, the Janice, the Tina, the Carol, the Julia, and the Hsiao, we knew this latest stop would be a a crowd-pleaser. Yes, I'll take an order of fun and a side of debauchery. To go.
No comments:
Post a Comment