This weekend we went to visit my in-laws in DC before they evacuate the east coast and head toward the Midwest and a better job for my father-in-law. Which meant Nick and I made the drive up I 95 again. Which also meant that for, like, the umpteenth million time in my life we passed this.
I can't tell you why but I have always had a love for roadside attractions and the like. (Need me to talk more on that? Check out this OLD post from way back in the fetal days of this blog....I promise it is worth your time. Or you can ask anyone on my college speech team that was with me when I coerced our coach to take us to the "World's Largest Frying Pan.") So naturally every one of those umpteen times Nick and I have passed "South of the Border" I have begged to go. No dice.
I don't know what was different about this time. Maybe Nick felt like since his parents were moving we may not make this same trip again soon. Maybe it was because we was rewarding me like a 3 year old for getting up in the morning and actually leaving the apartment before 8 AM. Maybe he just thought I looked super cute while sleeping with my mouth hanging open in the car (as per usual). All I know is after a nice snooze I was roused by the sensation that we were pulling off 95 and onto an exit, and I opened my eyes to pure joy.
I honestly can't tell you the last time I have been so giddy. Nick said I looked like a kid on Christmas morning which I totally believe. Rubbed my eyes, grinning ear to ear, bouncing up and down in my seat and talking about 2 octaves higher than normal, "Oh my gosh really, really? You aren't joking? Are we really going?" So without further ado, some pictures from "South of the Border":
That's me standing between that mariachi's legs.
Look how excited I am!