Apocolypse, now.

Day Three

We are the first to awake. We tip toe down stairs to find that coffee has already been made. Soon, Lach is up, followed by the others, and in no time the house smells like bacon frying. As breakfast is made, the Pirate and I pack our things. Feeling much better this morning, I am reluctant to leave such good company. With promises to reconnect when our trip is over, wishes for safe travels and grand adventures, we are sent off on our journey with full bellies and hearts.

This part of Virginia is really very beautiful. Tidy farms and rolling hills make up most of the landscape. We scoot through Floyd heading north, trying our best to stay on secondary roads. All is well until West Virginia.

In West Virginia, we are reminded that sometimes “the process” sucks. All of the secondary are roads are winding and laborious, though beautiful. We choose to take 77, a busy interstate full of truckers and people riding from Florida to Ohio, it seems. Though we are making good time, it's no fun. The highway is hot and exposed. Plus, that little storm last night in Floyd was actually a big, far reaching storm that has knocked all the power out of the entire state of WV. Seriously. It's mayhem. No traffic lights work. The gas stations that are able to function are wrapped in lines of pissed off people reminiscent of a Toys R Us in the 80's when the Cabbage Patch shipment came in.

We are some of these people. I am impatient, it's genetic. Before long, I have made my way to the front of the line to discover an old lady who, bless her heart, is holding up our line out of either politeness or fear. I start directing traffic. It works, until a lady and her daughter pull up to fill up not only their car, but four 5 gallon tanks. Once I realize that some of their fuel is portable, I offer to buy 2 gallons off them in cash. In no time flat, the Girl is full, the lady and her daughter are handsomely rewarded for being hoarders, and we are unfairly on our way. I blame it on The Sopranos marathon we've been on. Bada bing.

We make our goal of getting to Ohio, only to discover that there is no power here either. Every traffic light is out, the restaurants are closed and the hotels are dark. This sucks, because we are warn slap out. The Pirate, using the force as always, pulls us into a Hampton Inn. The manager greets us in the darkened entry with a warm, pun intended, welcome. It's brutally hot, and they have no electricity either. She assures us that they do have plenty of rooms, a pool and they will make us hotdogs for dinner, since all of the restaurants and grocery stores within 30 miles are closed. She even offers us bottled water and a banana while we sit and think it over.

We decide to go for it, even though it will still be expensive. We reason that we are both still under the weather, we've had a long day already, and it will be nice to have a bed. No sooner than the Pirate had payed the discounted rate, the electricity came on! We go from being the only guests in the hotel to being the first guests in a sold out hotel. They made good on their promise to make hotdogs, except that the Pirate ended up making them. Who are we kidding anyway, like the Pirate can stand aside and let someone else man the grill. He made 40 hotdogs on the hotel's gas grill in their entry way. Pretty cute.