The Coffee Bitch heads north

Not only has FOTL1 flown the nest, she has also flown the state. She has left God’s own country and now resides in Maryland. Back in the jolly old UK a person of somewhat effete mannerisms is known as a Mary so it is a constant source of amusement to me that the limp wristed have a whole state named after them. Of course the state could have been named by suck up colonists after some old queen but I think that you will agree my hypothesis is vastly more amusing.

The only thing that FOTL1 could not get up to the land of French poodles was her car (she was driving the U Haul) so it fell to me to chauffer her ancient but much revered Tonka toy 4 wheel drive the bone shaking 276 miles north. Thus it came to pass that at 6:00 on a Saturday we headed north with the boss following in the truck. I really am the worst morning person in the world so it is a mystery to me as to why I am always out of bed before 6:00. The highlight of the trip (and brilliantly planned by me) was a stop at exit 243, specifically for the purposes of breakfasting at the Waffle House. I tell you, if I am on the road and in need of a breakfast the only food that will hit the spot is the Waffle House All Star breakfast and a gallon of coffee. Just typing this sets me off like one of Pavlov’s dogs. I still have not worked out why I am so addicted as they really are fly blown health hazards (hence the family name Waffle Fly) but I love the places. I have this theory that they are all delivered on trailers and even brand new they are delivered with cracked tiles, fingerprints on the glassware and restrooms 2 inches deep in urine. Next time that you are in a Waffle Fly check it out and you will see what I mean. Talking of the restrooms I have a theory on why they are always flooded. You see the first guy misses the pan and leaves a small dribble on the floor. The next guy decided that he doesn’t want his shoelaces dragging through the yellow river so he hangs back a foot or so and misses even more. This goes on through the day until by about late afternoon the Waffle Fly clients are standing by the main door and urinating into the restaurant in the general direction of the bogs. FOTL1’s fiancé, Slugger, says that this is why he will only use a Waffle Fly late at night after many pints of beer. In this way he can’t focus on the dirt and squalor but can still taste the food. Everyone to his or her own but I say a little e coli is a small price to pay for a slap up breakfast.

As you can imagine the rest of the journey was a bit of an anticlimax until we hit the Capitol beltway, where there really should be a sign saying “Please check your brain before entering”. I had already told the Boss that under no circumstances was she to leave more than a one-inch space between the Tonka toy and the truck, and for most of the way all I could see in my mirror was that huge Ram emblem. Then she temporarily lost concentration and let the gap grow to two inches, which of course was the cue for some Maryland moron to switch lanes. All I could see was 4 tons of Dodge standing on its front wheels to avoid bringing certain death and destruction to manicured cretin in a Honda Civic. As a slight aside, here in God’s own country, you don’t actually need insurance, all you have to do is give a $500 bond to the DMV and you are legal. It is my intention therefore to buy a real old clonker SUV and weld Armco to all four sides. I shall them cruise the beltway and give no quarter. As soon as some vegetable rips the side off his BMW I shall stop on the shoulder and explain why I have no insurance and wish him the most pleasant of days. I reckon that within 6 months I will have creamed about 1000 cars. I wonder if a local body shop might like to sponsor me and make this project pay.
Cutting a long story short we eventually arrived and several beers later the beltway was just a vague memory. The astute reader will doubtless recall that I used to live in northern Virginia but in just a year I had forgotten what a lunatic asylum the DC Metro area is. Thousands of people all wanting to share my space, parking spaces that are the exact width of a small car (let alone a man’s truck) and no, and I mean no, green spaces. Still the hospitality of FOTL1 and Slugger was top notch and they even gave up their bed, kindly ignoring the inevitable beer/bladder related incident.

The next morning we headed south again, hitting the beltway at 10:00 on a Sunday morning and yes it was once again like race day at Daytona. It rained all the way home but it was sunny in my heart for I was heading back to the mountains where a man can breathe without choking on the fumes of a thousand Mary’s cologne.

Now to get this mattress to the land fill before the Boss notices.