"I need to go potty."
"How many more hours 'til we get there?"
"I really need to go potty!"
"Now how many hours 'til we get there?"
"Are we almost there?"
As much as I myself would like to scream out, "Are we there yet?" on any given road trip, there is one thing I always look forward to on this drive. There is a small town smack in the middle of Middle-of-Nowhere, Alabama, called Eufaula. Really it looks like any small town in the middle of Middle-of-Nowhere, Alabama, except for a 1/2-mile stretch of the main road. This 4-lane stretch is lined by beautiful, mature hardwoods, which shade charming plantation-style homes. It is a lane straight from the movies, and when we make our way down this lane, I can't help but say a few
hundred times, "I really want to live here" knowing full well that I would go absolutely insane if I planted roots in Middle-of-Nowhere, Alabama.
I think I may have scared Alex a little today when I threatened to pack the U-Haul and head to Eufaula because she stated emphatically that she did not want to move to Eufaula because, "this place is in the middle of nowhere!" (I think she must have consulted the map.) Strange thing about her--she shares my desire to live in a place where things are moving and shaking; however, she did not inherit my wandering gene. She would be content to live in the same town in Suburbia, Atlanta, for the rest of her life and thinks we're crazy for putting the house on the market.
That said, I think her tongue was in her cheek when, upon arriving in Panama City Beach, she asked, "So, Mom, do you want to live here?" Well, I can honestly say that I do not, nor have I ever had any desire whatsoever to live in Panama City. I enjoy vacationing here, but I've seen Spring Break here and am currently enduring the last day of "Thunder Beach", so I can assure you I will pass.
We were warned about Thunder Beach this time. One past year we ended up sharing our entire vacation with a hundred thousand dudes and dudettes on loud motorcyles quite by accident. Due to Hurricane Ivan, we were forced to reschedule our vacation by a week, a week that just happened to be Thunder Beach Week. This time we decided to go ahead and show up for the last day of the roaring festivities so we can get a good start on our vacation when they all clear out. Even on the 22nd floor, these motorcycles are incredibly, thunderously, and obnoxiously loud. Tomorrow, hopefully all we'll hear is the crashing of the waves below.