The Adventures of I-95

Oh hello there!  I am officially a resident of the Washington D.C. metro area!  Well, I'm technically a resident of Florida, but I live in Virginia now.  Actually, I am a permanent house guest in Virginia... Whatever, however you want to explain it, I now reside in a suburb of my dream city, beginning an amazing job.

On Sunday, I made the 15 hour drive up here.  By myself.  With a Ford Explorer packed to the brim.  At least I had a lot of country music and some great weather.

iPhone might as well have said "drive forever". 

My little driving companion.

It was hard saying goodbye to my family, friends, and boyfriend, and I'm sure the next couple of months will be difficult to adjust to, but I tried to entertain myself with the road trip to keep my mind off the heavy stuff.  If you've never driven around the North-South-Carolinas border, well, you should.  For about 200 miles (not even exaggerating here) I kept seeing billboards advertising "Pedro's Ice Cream!" and "Reptile Lagoon" and "Hot Tamale Restaurant!" and "Pedro's Carnival Rides!"  I'm not even kidding, all of these billboards advertised practically everything under the sun, and all had a "South of the Border" logo on it.  I was intrigued, and looking to see the ridiculous advertisements made that 200 miles pass a lot faster.  

By the time I saw "Last Chance! South of the Border!" I had to stop.  I changed lanes like a maniac and made the exit, and as I pulled off the highway I realized I was in the most hilarious town.  It was so politically incorrect.  Leave it to some southerners to make money off of a Hispanic stereotype.  The roofs of buildings were sombreros, and everything was "Perdo's."  Pedro's Ice Cream and Pedro's Reptile Lagoon.  And there were statues of "Pedro" all over the little town.  And by town, I mean a couple of blocks down a single street.  

Get it?  South of the North Carolina border? haha

Good ole Pedro's Ice Cream and the Hot Tamale restaurant. 

I went into Pedro's Tee-Shirt Shop and bought my boyfriend a key chain of a little Mexican man in a sombrero.  The obnoxious place was definitely the highlight of my trip.  

I also stopped at my first real truck stop.  Unintentionally.  I was looking for a Shell gas station, and it wasn't until I pulled up that I saw the sign.  

I believe those were the Big Boys themselves sitting outside. 

I'd never been to a truck stop before.  It was like any other interstate gas station, except it had a diner attached and a lot of people just hanging out, and a field, and the restrooms had showers in them.  They were a little ambitious in calling it a travel "plaza," unless two establishments qualifies for a plaza.  I would have called it a gas station, but I guess I'm not the only one that exaggerates a bit.  

The remainder of my trip was your typical 15-hour drive through five states.  I drove on Interstate 95 the entire time, which I'm pretty sure must have been built in 1895 and then repaved back in 1995.  Another ambitious label, calling it an "interstate."  I was thinking more like "Path of Potholes."  Poor Dora the Explorer is going to need another re-alignment.  

Anyways, I'm finally here, and after a stack of paperwork that felt a mile high today, I finally start my first real day of work tomorrow.  I know you'll be dying to hear about it... have no fear, I'll be updating... I just can't blog at work anymore.  Oh the woes of big-girl life.  

Love,

N