1,250 Miles Back Home

So after lunch we started our drive back home.  We stopped at a local SUBWAY for the usual $5 footlong and took in the Florida Suburb Sights.....

Ah.  That was enough....

We loved the billboard's phone number "866-VAS-TIME"

Makes for a catchy phrase.  Like the commercial would be a man who just got his GF pregnant for the 6th time...camera zooms in...he rolls over in bed...they both look at each other...while nodding their heads they simultaneously say, "It's Vas-Time" as a smile lights their faces.  Cut away to the Vasectomy doctor in the office...blah blah blah...

Soon thereafter, K got sleepy and rocked his signature Park Bench Style Blanket...

9 times out of 10 you will find K sleeping in the Blaze adorned with a variety of newspapers.  This meant we had to make a pit stop and get him some kind of gross energy drink or something.  We were surprised to find out that in Florida, the whole No Shirt, No Service rule doesn't apply...

We took bets on what K would walk out of there with...Monster...Red Bull.....Sparks....but he totally surprised us with a Pepsi Max for Men.

Now Pat was out $5......this meant K had to deal with one of his favorite "games."  It's called, "The Lock-The-Door-And-When-K-Takes-Out-His-Key-To-Unlock-The Door-I-Lock-It-Again-But-He-Doesn't-See-Me-Doing-It-So-He-Tries-To-Unlock-The-Door-Again-Thinking-He-Turned-The-Key-The-Wrong-Way-Until-After-3-Tries-He-Realizes-I-Keep-Locking-The-Door Game."

Back on the road and we thought of our trusty computer, Cecil, as we passed exit 350...

Now the sun's starting to set....

It's one of those picturesque landscapes.  Driving down the open road at dusk with green grass and tall trees on either side of you...the wind is flying through your hair  (or over your head)....the smell of nature filling your nostrils as you take a deep breath.....

...then some huge insect smacks into your windshield and explodes.  Time to pull over at the next gas station to clean this lifeless blood off our glass.....can barely see!  

While we stopped K thought it a good idea to buy a little snack.  Namely this Pickle in a Bag thing....

...that idea turned out to be a bad one.  But couldn't ANY ONE OF US have told him that??  Seriously.  It's gross.  COME'on K.

Zac took the wheel while Pat and Cecil had a little "screening" party.  (We threw some OG Rap on in the blaze and eventually put a Dew-Rag on Cecil.)

 K's daughter, Sola, loves presents from the road so as we passed through South Carolina what better place to stop then....

South of the Border!

Anyone who's driven through South Carolina has at SOME point in their life been here.  It's the chochki MECCA of the U.S.  We've been hearing SOOOOOO much about all the parties, hot girls, spontaneous nudity, excessive drinking, and gambling that goes on at South of the Border that we decided to cut loose and get a little crazy.  It's basically an east coast Las Vegas!

...or at least it was in 1954.

Guess sunday nights at 4am isn't the best time to hang  :(

Thanks for nothing.

D