Vacation Memories

Vacation Memories
 

(the ones that don't make it to Facebook)

I’ll admit it: I’m a sucker for tourist-trap roadside attractions. 

As a kid, our family road trips often took us down I-10 in Arizona where The Thing? lived. Those giant yellow billboards sucked me in every time. They started slow, appearing several miles apart, but rapidly increased until they practically screamed at you.

Each trip, I’d think this had to be the time we’d stop. I mean, how could anyone drive right by “The Mystery of the Desert” without pausing to check it out. Sadly though, each time, my practical parents zoomed right by The Thing? as if the billboards didn’t even exist.

At some point – after Al Gore invented the Internet – I finally learned the secret of The Thing? and have even seen pictures. I’ve still never actually stopped though, as my road trips these days don’t often take me in that direction.

My husband and I did stop at another roadside mystery from my childhood -- The Hole in the Rock in Utah. We paid way too much money to tour a house hacked out of rock that would have bored me to tears as a child. It was mildly interesting as an adult but nothing close to what years of hype had made it out to be in my mind.

Disappointment doesn’t stop me, though. I still get sucked in by screaming billboards. And, with the perk of adulthood, I now actually get to decide to stop.

When I saw the first billboard for Georgia Peach World, I gave it a quick glance, not realizing more were coming. The second one was more interesting and by the third one, I was hooked. I had to stop. I couldn’t live another day without seeing the wonder that was Georgia Peach World.

 “Let’s stop,” I said.

Bill sighed. He knew my obsession. 

“Next exit,” I said.

“We can only stop if there’s a place to park,” he said.

“Sure, sure,” I answered with confidence. I mean Georgia Peach World had to be as big as Costo. At least. Acres of asphalt for the parking lot. A restaurant. Maybe even some sort of arcade.

 “We can’t stay long,” Bill cautioned.

“Fine,” I said, drumming my fingers against my leg in anticipation. Once he saw how cool it was, time wouldn’t matter.

We pulled off the interstate at the right exit and I whipped my head back and forth looking for the giant building I’d seen in my head. Instead, Bill and Callie burst out laughing as we pulled into Georgia Peach World and stared.

We filled the parking lot, the store not much bigger than the RV. I didn’t even want to get out but the laughter of my family was giving me a headache.

Callie tumbled out behind me and stuck her smiling head in the hole of the picture sign to ensure we’d remember our Georgia Peach World experience forever. Then, she dragged me inside and we perused the single aisle. The dude behind the counter was friendly enough and we did suck down our free peach slushies, but otherwise decided – in all of the world of Georgia peaches, we really didn’t need anything.

Bill still hadn’t stopped laughing when we climbed back in.

“You could have stayed longer,” he gasped between chuckles.

When I didn’t reply, he gave Callie a high five. “I’m glad we stopped. Definitely worth it.”

In spite of my disappointment, Bill loved Georgia Peach World. It’s a memory we won’t forget and, honestly, it won’t stop me from being sucked into the next roadside attraction. I mean, Kansas Corn World might be the best thing ever and I won’t know if I don’t stop.

But, it was time for better fun. We quickly moved from peaches to the beach.

Callie and I love the beach and couldn’t wait to hit the sand and the water. Beach food is Bill’s thing, more than the actual beach or ocean. Shrimp, oysters, clams, even a real Dippin’ Dots store. And he didn’t have to drive. He seemed happy enough. We should have left it alone. But, we didn’t.

 “Don’t you want to get in the water?”

“I’m not the top of the food chain in the ocean,” was his logical reply.

“How about a walk on the beach?”

“It’s just a bunch of hot sand.”

After a couple of days, though, we wore him down. He agreed to jet skiing. 

As he walked down to the beach, I noticed his footwear.

“Why are you wearing socks to the beach?”

“I forgot beach shoes.”

He walked faster so I dropped it. I stayed with the shoes as he and Callie took off on a jet ski. They were all smiles when they returned, until it was time to put back on the non-beach-friendly shoes.

We hung out until the line at the water water spigot cleared. I rinsed my feet and started to move on.

“Hang on,” Bill said.

Turns out putting socks over wet feet isn’t fun.

I slowly turned back and hissed, “Just leave the socks off.”

 “Then I’d get my shoes wet. Let me lean on you while I dry my feet off.”

I looked around pretending he was talking to someone else. People awkwardly scooted around us, giving wary eyes to the crazy guy, standing on one dripping foot, a sock in his hand.

“Give me the towel.”

I had to do it, just to shut him up and get out of there. But then it got worse.

“Your turn, Callie,” he called out.

I tried inching away a small bit at a time as the line waiting for the water faucet grew. Bill, intent on getting every speck of sand off Callie’s feet before she could slip back on her sandals, didn’t seem to notice.

As he dried each toe individually, an exasperated woman asked, “Does she have an injury or something?”

He smiled at her, totally oblivious to the insanity of it all. “No. I’m just getting her feet clean. Can’t have sand in the RV, you know.”

At that point, I did walk away. 

When they caught up a few minutes later, Callie had one of those “why am I an only child?” looks on her face. Bill, happy his beach ordeal was over, asked. “What’s for dinner? Perhaps something from Georgia Peach World?”