I spent Thanksgiving day in Washington, D.C with my friends Tracy (girl) and Casey (boy). We celebrated as any other person in their mid-twenties does when they live on the opposite coast as their families: watched football, drank beer (wine with dinner), and got the turkey for 3 from boston market. Tracy bumped us up a notch by making scalloped corn and three-bean casserole, but admittedly none of us is quite ready to baste a bird all morning or whip up some gravy during halftime. This was my first endeavor with Boston Market and let me tell you - I was impressed. Granted the corn bread could have been a little more crumbly, but all in all it was a meal well done.
Friday morning we set out for the Shenandoah Mtns. Casey rented a cabin for a few nights and the three of us were spending the first night by ourselves before 5 others joined us for the second night in the wilderness.
Hour 1, day 1, we're on our way out of D.C. We stop for gas in a town called Manassus. While Casey's inside the station, we notice a truck parked about 2 spaces away from us with three men hanging outside of it. Presumably, the three friends are on their way back from hunting. Orange hats. Cammo pants. A gun sitting shotgun outside their monster truck. There's a sticker on the back passenger window, "Southern-style", depicting an extremely flexible woman on all fours, covered by a confederate flag. Real porn enthusiast stuff. The guy closest to us has blood on his pants from his knees to his ankles. Just before they leave, Casey sees them drop a bag of deer entrails in the garbage. They hop into the truck, tear out of the parking lot, squealing their tires as they pull away. Welcome to appalachia.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment