Elysium (even without a military discount)

Today we drove from Charleston to Macon to Tuscaloosa - roughly 500 miles. It felt much longer than yesterday, perhaps this is due to the fact that the road wasn't quite as interesting [but there are some gems...]

It turns out that pilgrims on a journey to BBQ are in desparate need of touristy sustinence. We stopped along the way at a roadside stand selling various types of cider (peach, cherry, etc...) where we purchased some southern delectables (pecan syrup, anyone?) and ate some boiled peanuts. For those of you living in the north who have no idea what I'm talking about you just need to get a literal translation in your head of peanuts in their shell boiled in water with some spices (salt or cajun or other) to the point where they no longer have any crunch left. You tear (rather than crack) open the shells to find the boiled peanuts which are now the consistency of lima beans and, on first bite, taste a little like potatoes. The flavor begins to grow on you (it grew so much that we at them all despite the fact that we knew we would be eating BBQ in less than two hours). Later, after leaving Macon, we purchased some pork rinds. They were...appropriate. And that's all I have to say about that.

Macon, Georgia is a bit bigger than we thought it would be, but it was still easy to find "White Lightening". We were hoping that this title would mean that the place would have some white sauce; it turns out that the owner [a woman, very rare in the BBQ world] is a huge fan of the 1973 film of the same name starring the multi-talented Burt Reynolds. There are several versions of the movie poster hanging on the wall as a testament to this nugget of information. There are, of course, some elvis pictures, a small stereo playing some of the crappiest country music [as if there is any other kind] the radio station has to offer, a caricature of Jimmy Carter [GA native] and - strangely, a copy of John Stewert's "America" book. The building is new and all the benches are identical. The sheet metal paneling on the walls is a nice touch.

The restaurant is in close proximity to the hospital, which explains the fact that half the clientele were in scrubs. Also, quite interestingly, there was some vanilla spice softsoap in the bathroom (give you three guesses why this might be...) [an aside - WHY THE HELL ARE YOU IN PUBLIC IN SCRUBS? Don't you wear them as some sort of shield against all the gross things that can potentially come out of sick humans?]

The careful reader will notice that I'm writing a bunch about the restaurant and not the food. The food is sort of nondescript and and a huge letdown from the previous day. The basics: we ordered the 1/2 chicken plate and the rib plate. Each comes with cole slaw, brunswick stew, and your choice of fries [strange] or chips. Let's start with what is right with the food - the chicken really is quite good. Josh seems to think it is better than Melvins, I'm not so sure. The tie-breaker might be that the chicken is moist all the way through; Melvin's chicken breast was pretty dry and flavorless [maybe it is the woman's touch, men really never know what to do with breasts]. Also right at white lightening (I keep thinking of white lion's "When the Children Cry" when saying the name of this place, AWESOME SLOW DANCE SONG!!!!) is the cole slaw. Slightly creamy, large chunks of vegetables, more carrots than normal, and a mild flavor. Things that are okay: the brunswick stew is more like a chili. Things that are wrong. The rib plate was quite descriptive - it should be called the "two rib plate". The ribs were tough - I don't even know how that is possible - and the sauce was forgettable, sort of vinegar based with very little heat. Quite disappointing - good thing human's weren't made from these, we would be like the walking melanomas that inhabit Miami Beach. The pulled pork was also subpar - somehow, despite being drenched in sauce, it was dry and chewy. Pork is not the specialty of White Lightening. But, they can get better.

Things we saw on the road today:In addition to those mentioned by Dr. Nickerson, we also saw a swamp - a real, bona fide swamp, which we are sure the sovereign state of South Carolina is doing its best to drain and develop.

We saw a number of strange vehicles.

As if telling us we were heading in the right direction, we saw a truck pulling a smoker.

We also saw a compact pickup pulling a load [probably 15] of old electric stoves.

We came upon an oversize load of a semi pulling a giant crate bound with large chains. We can only surmise that it was King Kong.

We saw some strange things

A sign that referred to a landscaping company called the "Sodfather"

I cannot describe the shear number of 100% depressing trailer parks here in the south. I am not averse to trailers in anyway. My grandpa lived in one for most of my life; Josh grew up in one in MT. However...these parks...the land is taking back some of them. I would describe them as "tornado bait".

I saw Josh dart across the grounds of the Alabama welcome center after drinking strawberry, no calorie poweraid. Strawberry - later he played with my little pony while complaining about how ucky boys are. Seriously, who drinks strawberry anything once they are old enough to add and subtract. [Colleen Harris is a notable exception here.]

We saw two earwigs and a spider in our hotel bathroom. Needless to say, I will stuff cotton in my ears tonight.

And we saw this:

Still dreaming of Dreamland.

It can't be this good. It has a strange name. It has a billboard. It has multiple locations.

However, to original location of Dreamland is everything that a BBQ place should be - and that is all about the food. Everything else in the restaurant is designed to facilitate you eating the best BBQ Alabama (or maybe the universe) has to offer. The pit isn't fancy, it is authentic. The chairs aren't new or aesthetic, they are functional. They provide a nice cushion for you as you prepare to dip your white bread in Dreamland's spicy/sweet/vinegar sauce and mow down on some ribs - however, to call them ribs would be to group them with all the other ribs cooked in the south...pure heresy. A sweet tea that even Josh could drink (hint: if you squeeze the lemon you have something quite close to that which would satisfy a deity) and banana pudding that is thick, rich, and satisfying...but somehow a perfect accompaniment to slow cooked meats. This experience was truly spiritual for me. As many of you know, I'm not a particularly religious person...but...and I'm being serious here, there was something meaningful about eating in that shack across from mobile homes out from Tuscaloosa proper. A calm settled on me such that to even evaluate the cooking would be condescending and, frankly, unnecessary. As we left, I noticed that a number of other churches populated Jug Factory Road. Dreamland may look different, but its ability to supplement life with meaning is as powerful.

Jackson, you have a BIG job tomorrow.

Today's list of quotes [from us]

"I made a mistake by wearing a belt today" - Chris

"I am NOT drinking another gallon of sweet tea" - Josh

"That has to be the biggest bass center in the world. In the world." - Josh

Chris: "This is Jug Factory Lane, not road." Josh: "It's probably it. I mean, really, how many other roads can be named 'Jug Factory' anyway?"

The answer is, in fact, more than one.

Josh here. From White Lightning is was westward towards Alabama. Back to the Prius. It was previously difficult for me to fathom settlers traveling the grass sea in wagons moving at oxen's pace for months. I say previously because after the first few hours of the afternoon slipped away I almost felt as though I could smell bags of flour and spare wagon wheels in the trunk and was waiting for little Mary to come down with typhoid. That was the pace we seemed to set as we skirted Atlanta by taking a "scenic route" through semi-rural (as opposed to cosmopolitan) Georgia. At one point we were following a truck pulling a trailer with a clearly homemade smoker on a trailer behind it. The device was something like a combination of pot-bellied stove and locomotive engine. We also passed a truck hauling A LOAD OF WATERMELONS half in the ditch with either a flat tire or perhaps a broken axle. While I suggested we pull over and take a picture, the driver did not look in the mood to pose. In a small hamlet we passed a car also stuck with a flat donut tire. Not regular tire, but the backup. And there was no third string to put in. We eventually reached the highway again. And it was a good thing...

Did you know that there is a calorie-free form of PowerAide? I didn't. But now I do. I also know why sucralose does not cause any calories to be absorbed. Because it goes straight to the kidneys. And what does it do in the kidneys you might ask? Well, let me tell you. It draws every drop of fluid in and propels it like a jet drive into your bladder. Within perhaps 20 minutes of drinking the bottle, I was nearly crawling through the window as we pulled into the welcome center for Alabama.

Why else did we feel welcome in Alabama? How could we not with the signs along the way to Birmingham!

"Liquor Outlet- Military Discount!" this was followed closely by:

"Divorce Lawyers- Here for You" and then as if telling a story:

"Hong Kong Spa and Massage Parlor" located in a truck stop.

There was also the massive "Discount Fireworks" and "Smoke Shop" offerings. Not sure how those fit in temporally with the first three, but I am sure they are just fuel to the fire. At last we pulled into Tuscaloosa. Home of the legendary Dreamland BBQ, the first true Shrine of the journey. In preparation we checked into the hotel. Well, I should say I stood on the curb while Chris went to get the hotel employee to unlock our room since the lock mechanism had been disassembled as some point. A quick two sets of tennis to minimally offset the impending calorie fest, and we were ready.

I would tell you to close your eyes and envision the following, but that wouldn't work very well, would it. So do it afterwards. Passing our hotel we are beset on all sides by Title Loan stores, pawn shops, smoke shops, etc. We drive on, up a hill past construction equipment and empty warehouses. Are we lost? This doesn't look like where a restaurant should be! We drive on. Past two churches made from steel prefabricated buildings. We pass a dilapitated trailer court. Is this right? 15th St. A turn. And out of the evening haze it rises. Little more than a shack behind a worn red painted wooden fence, the stone and mortar smoke stack billowing with a sweet pungent smell. The cars in the parking lot fill a larger area than the building itself. It is a place seemingly untouched by time or technology. A sign proclaims: "Dreamland." The door is unmarked. Inside it is filled with the sounds of pilgrims to this promised land receiving the sacrement. The walls are covered with license plates from the length of the nation, including a 7 plate from MT (Kalispell) and a 4 plate (Missoula). It is as though they were there to welcome us. We sit. Sweet tea is placed and we order. There are but three options. Ribs, Rib Sandwich, Sausage. There are no sides. We order a slab and sausage. First to arrive is a tray of white bread and sauce. Then the sausage and ribs. The RIBS and SAUSAGE. I am nearly at a loss for words. If I have ever had better of either... well...I haven't. In fact, I have never even had anything close. It is almost surreal as I write this only an hour later. The memory is hazy and the colors blur. The tastes and smells blend into a cacophany of ecstasy. I must process this longer- I can write no more on the subject.