The vacation did not begin as most of our vacations do. Normally we wake up at 4 or 5am, pack it up, and hit the road early with the intention of getting over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge (William Preston Lane Memorial Bridge to be exact) before the weekend traffic. However, we were leaving on a Sunday rather than a Saturday, so we weren't fighting the gunners afraid of coming in last (thank you Dirks Bentley).
We also did a fantastic job packing this year. We forgot the stroller. We didn't ask to borrow the turtle top from my friend as my wife insisted we wouldn't need it. And we forgot my oldest daughter. Actually, she spent the previous week in the Outer Banks with the family of one of her friends. Do you know how to spot the out-of-towners in the Outer Banks? They are the ones with OBX stickers on their bumpers and rear windows. Do you ever hear of people advertising where they live? Do you ever see DLK stickers? Or BLT stickers? Of course not.
We made it to Ocean City in decent time - a little under 3 hours. We couldn't check in until 4pm, so we walked the boardwalk for a bit and determined that we weren't actually in Maryland, we were in El Salvador. Or South Bronx. Lots of cussing. Lots of Yankee gear. Lots of in-your-face attitude. The Dew Tour was also in town, so we watched them erecting the stadium on the beach. It was fairly massive. We were then advised to stay away from the boardwalk for the rest of the week because it was going to attract some freaks and weirdos. More than were already there???
Ocean City advertising their Dew Tour on the water tower.
I left my son and wife to play on the beach and took my youngest daughter with me (as she was ready for a nap) to go to Salisbury to pick up my oldest daughter who was being dropped off en route from Corolla, which she said the locals pronounced 'CORE-a-lah', not 'core-OL-lah' as everyone does.
We finally got back to Ocean City, hon, and were ready to check in. And carry all 5 tons of vacation junk that I was able to cram into 12 cubic feet of my rockin' Honda.
After we settled in we headed up to a texican restaurant that was recommended to us by a friend called Tequila Mockingbird (the restaurant was called Tequila Mockingbird, not our friend). Not only does it have a really clever name, but the food was great. I'm not sure if Harper Lee has ever eaten there, but some drunk New Jersey chick with no inside voice has. Several patrons asked her to settle down and the bartender even told her to hush, but to no avail. She got drunker and louder. Most of her sentences began with, "Oh, my god!" and contained "like", and ended with 'seriously'.
In addition to Tequila Mockingbird, there were some other places in this shopping center with unique names. Here they are.
Hey lady, you have bodacious buckets!
I think I saw this place on Liberty Heights Avenue.
Prince has nothing on 1795.
That is all for now. I'm too tired and used up all of clever and piffy nuances to entertain you any more tonight.
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