Hello Virginia! And Our, Er, Quirky Trip Thus Far

Virigina. Called the Mother of Presidents. Home of Richmond, capital of the Confederacy. During the Civil War, more battles were fought here than other state. Birthplace of Dave Matthews Band. This state is awash in groundbreaking, historical moments.

As my Post-a-Day Idea hasn't worked out (I had this idea, I would post each day we were on vacation- you get the gist) due to circumstances I'm about to explain, so here's a quick Our-First-Two-Days-in-VA synopsis:

Sat, 9am- Deliver the dogs to the kennel. We go in the Civic.




(Do not try this at home.)

Sat 1pm- Leave the house. Whoo-hoo vacation!

Sat 1:08pm- Return to the house for knitting bag.

Sat 1:10pm- Vacation. Whoo.

We take Hwy 29N the whole trip.




Beautiful.

Great seats for DMB's Bristow performance.

Cameras aren't allowed, but a brief description is as follows:

Balmy, breezy weather- a real shift from our onr hundred and three degrees home state. For the first half of the concert our row is fairly empty, allowing The Hubba and I plenty of room to move like the smooth, graceful dancers we are (note: we were stone cold sober; it didn't help the dancing). An hour in, drunken tailgaters outside realize the concert has started. Our row fills up. This does not help during Too Much when we do The Robot, a dance ritual started by our DMB-expert friends.

Sat 11pm- Concert ends. We take our time walking back to the car, as there are now about 28,000 people exiting the pavilion and at least half of them are legally (and some not so legally) under the influence of something.

For the next hour, as we wait in our car, we come up with nicknames for the people around us. We had a Harry Belafonte look-alike, Industrious Girl (who set up a grill and cooked hamburgers for her friends), Brown-Dress Girl (friend of Industrious Girl, who, in the whole hour, got up only to a) get a cigarette from her purse and b) stand up, so her boyfriend could sit and she could then sit in his lap), and Peralta, the Traffic Director (young man in a jersey that said "Peralta" who spent the hour climbing up on top of his truck to check out the miles of stand-still traffic, then got down to inform the neighboring cars of it, and then got back in his car after being screamed at by irrriated drivers who just wanted him to move only to repeat the whole dance moments later). Surprisingly enjoyable hour.

Sun 12:16am- Traffic finally starts moving. We're off!

Sun 1:30am- Brief directions debacle, when crucial interstate sign is not noticed. Back on the right track after 25 miles driven in wrong direction (and, subsequently, 25 miles driven back to starting point). Following conversation calmly ensues:
The Hubba: I am not placing blame here, but I am only one man. I cannot be captain and navigator.
Me: There is a song by Rihanna called 'Shut Up and Drive' and if I knew any of the words, I would sing it to you.

Sun 2:00am- Stop for hotel room. You see, we had this brilliant plan that, instead of staying in Bristow, we would head out after concert, get a little bit down the road to our next destination, Virginia Beach, and then stop for the night.

Sun 2:04am- Days Inn has a room. For $120 a night. We are convinced we can find cheaper.

Sun 2:08am- Hampton Inn is full.

Sun 2:10am- Ditto HoJo.

Sun 2:12am- Back on the interstate. No worries. We're tired, but temperaments still cheerful from concert, even with 50 miles debacle.

Sun 2:40am- Stop again, somewhere around Ashland, VA.

Sun 2:42am- Comfort Inn full.

Sun 2:47am- Super 8 full.

Sun 2:52am- Ditto HoJo. Am told there is "some kind of sporting thing going on. All the hotels are booked."

Sun 3:00am- Back on interstate. We're both getting sleepy. Inexplicably, I decide it's my job to stay awake and keep The Hubba up with my witty chatter.

Sun 3:40am- Nearing Williamsburg, VA. Get off exit, only to read "Lodgings" sign and see the nearest hotel is 2.1 miles away. After earlier problems, realize there is no guarantee of room.

Sun 3:41am- Back on interstate.

Sun 3:50am- Even I'm tired of me saying "You alright?" every five minutes, like dim-witted parrot.

Sun 4:00am- Williamsburg exit. Pull off, read "Lodgings" sign and see nearest hotel is now 2.5 miles away. Brief and energetic discussion about "what is with this *#$*@!& state?" Can't see how to get back on the interstate. Make a left.

Sun 4:02am- End up at military base. Manage to make U-Turn before anyone opens fire.

Sun 4:05am- Back on interstate. The Hubba, by sheer will, decides he can power through the last 40 miles to Virigina Beach, where we will check into the hotel we've already book early.

Sun 4:30am- I offer to drive. Not well received by The Hubba, who I might have asked, only five minutes earlier, if he was also "seeing those funny gold lights?"

Sun 4:46am- Passing through Norfolk, discover a tunnel we'll take that is two miles long and goes under the ocean. The Hubba, and his irrational fear of drowning, is not happy.

Sun 4:58am- Thank God, gods, Vishnu, Buddha, Allah, and anyone in a white robe, we are at our hotel. The Hubba goes to check us in.

Sun 5:01am- They are booked solid. Can't check in until three.

Sun 5:05am- Last ditch effort. Drive across the street to the Days Inn, the only hotel nearby. Night manager says he does have a room, it is a single, smoking room available until noon that day for $139. Problematic only in that: there are two of us, we don't smoke, and that is $139 for less than seven hours.

Sun 5:07am- Nothing left to be done. We drive back to our hotel and park. We're sleeping in the car. Not the Expedition, sadly, but the Civic. After a bit of Girl Scout-esque utility, I dig out our beach towels to use for pillows and blankets. We recline the seats as far back as we can. And finally, finally, almost twenty-two hours from when I last woke up, we sleep...

Day Two

Sun 6:45am- For almost two hours. Problem with being a woman and having no toilet to call your own for 25 hours is having your bladder stuck in the land of convenience and opportunity. Bladder will stand for this no more.

Sun 6:50am- The Hubba wakes up from my staring. I say, in small voice, "I have to pee." He brings his seat back to upright position, starts the car and sees the clock. He drops his forehead to the steering wheel.

Sun 8am- In true Knitter household fashion, we have rallied and spirits, while not what I would descibe as "high" are certainly better. Yes, we are working on only two hours poor sleep after a fairly hectic day. Yes, we are sore. Yes, we are slightly smelly. But we're at the beach. We've been to a DMB concert. We have another concert in three days. We have each other. Unconciously, we both seem to have realized this is a time that will either unite or divide us. We unite. We are alright.

Sun 9am- After a lovely walk on the beach- the temperature is amazing by the way, breezy and not quite eighty- we set up camp. Due to the early hour, we've found a primo parking space. Yes! Yes! It's all on the upswing now. Bring on the surf and sun.

Sun 9:15am- We are both asleep in our beach chairs.

Asleep off and on for the next four hours. Play in the ocean. It's a beautiful day, not really hot, perfect for sitting/sleeping.




Sun 2:45pm- Check into our hotel.

Sun 2:47pm- Brief scuffle for first shower. I win.

Sun 4:00pm- Am bathed, in clean clothes, have brushed teeth twice, The Hubba is same. We are both thrilled with the fancy trappings of our hotel, i.e. pillows, blankets, chairs to sit on, running water. (Sidenote: We would, both of us, have been toast in the days of old.)

Sun 4:50pm- Ask The Hubba what time it is.

Sun 7:30pm- Wake up. Have both fallen into dead sleep. Wake The Hubba.

Sun 8:30pm- Delicious beers and sandwiches at Keagan's, Irish pub-style place.

Sun 10:00pm- Back in hotel. Finding Nemo on TV. Find the whole thing vaguely comforting.

Sun 10:25pm- Nemo ends. We're in a room, with a bed, air conditioning, pillows and a bathroom whenever we like. All is back on track.

And we enter Day Three...