01 June 2012

Council VA to Lookout KY 43 miles  (TransAm 589)

Liquor in the grocery stores. Apparently most Washingtonians have never been in a California supermarket for it’s Top Story today that you can now buy your tequila at the local QFC. It is such big news that it was all the barista at the in-store Starbucks could talk about when I stopped in for a tall drip, my reward for getting my bum out of bed on a FRIDAY for a morning jog. “How’s your day so far?” she asked me kindly, to which I replied “Oh, just fine, and yours?” Open up the flood gates, there’s a wave of liquor stories to be told. And, mind you, it’s only 7:15 am. That’s AM. “It’s been sooo busy,” she said, “everyone’s been coming in to look at the liquor shelves.” Ballard is one boozy community, I guess, ready to load up on $2 off bottles, allowing you to recoup about 0.3% of that 20.5% tax plus $4 per-liter fee that get added onto your bill at the checkout stand. Hmm … all this talk about liquor is making me thirsty. Might be time to walk back over to the QFC – Harvey Wallbanger anyone?

Gina, as far as I know, wasn’t drinking today, although it would have been right in line with her arrival in southeastern Kentucky, where moonshine and bourbon are part of the fabric of days gone by and, for some, days still here. In fact, I’d be inclined to say these kids look like maybe they have been having a little Spring Break fun of their own in whiskey country:

Or, maybe they’ve just been cycling out in the pouring rain all day. Welcome to the Bluegrass State, now let us christen your arrival with buckets of water from the heavens above. But before you lose all faith, we’ll put Henry and Patricia in your path, providing you some most welcome southern hospitality in the form of dry towels and a pot of hot coffee over which to converse while you wait out the storm.

So, Kentucky. Beyond the narrow, shoulder-less roads, beside the massive passing coal and gravel trucks, and behind the sheets of rain is, sadly, a scene of poverty, this southeastern corner of the state littered with run-down trailer homes, rusted-out cars abandoned in overgrown yards, and boarded-up buildings … an existence pretty far removed from that which most of us know. Apparently Gina was getting close, though, with last night’s local gym accommodations. It seems she needed to, once again, erect the spider free zone indoors:

I could have used that the other day in the shower.